ng at him now, looking him full in the face while a
great storm was surging in her mind. "I can't obey my father," she was
saying to herself, I can't! It's too hard--too hard! The old man
mistook her silence for the rejection of his prayer and slowly turned
to go. The shrinking figure, the concentrated misery, the hopeless
expression on his face, the tears in his eyes, the pathetic woebegone
listlessness in his walk were too much for her; she could resist no
longer.

"Herr Von Barwig," she cried, her voice ringing out in clear strong
tones, "I don't believe it, I don't believe it!" He turned with a
slight look of inquiry on his face and gazed at her through his
tear-bedimmed eyes. "I don't believe that you ever did a dishonourable
action in all your life," she cried. "My father is mistaken, mistaken!
I'm sure of it."

"Your father?" There was no hesitation in his voice now. "Your
father," he repeated, his voice rising higher. "Ah!" and a flood of
light came in upon him. "When you left me a few moments ago, you went
to him, and then, on your return--you--you sent me away; is it not so?
Tell me," he demanded, "is it not so?"

Gone was the hopeless misery, gone were the shambling gait, the
pathetic smile, the helplessness of resignation to overwhelming
conditions. Gone, too, were the tears, the pleading look, and in their
place stood Anton Von Barwig, erect and strong, his eyes glittering
with fire, the fire of righteous indignation, his voice strong and
clear. Helene looked at him in amazement. She could not understand
the transformation.

"Your father!" repeated Von Barwig in a loud, stern voice. "So! the
time has come! I think perhaps I see your father. It is time we met;
a little explanation is due. Miss Stanton, I shall see--your--father."

"Yes, you shall see him!" said the girl. "I'll--I'll speak to him for
you; I am sure you can explain."

"Yes, I can explain," said Von Barwig with a low, hard laugh. "Where
is he?"

"In the library," replied Helene.

"Ah? Then I go there and see him," said Von Barwig in a decided tone.
This new mental attitude of the music master amazed her. The little
low, shambling figure was transformed into an overwhelming force.

"Perhaps I had better see him first," suggested Helene.

"No," said Von Barwig. "I see him." His tone was almost commanding.
Helene looked at him in astonishment. She was pleased; at least these
were not signs of guilt on his part