in,
found himself again in his room. He disarranged his bed that his
sleepless night might not excite comment. He was just a little ashamed
that his loss of poise had been so complete and overwhelming.

When he came downstairs he paused at the door. Harriet was playing and
singing again, and the soft tones of her voice were healing. He walked
gently to the door of the music-room, leaned against the panel, and
watched and listened.

She played, not as a schoolgirl practising a lesson, but with a
lingering touch of joy in her work caressing each note. The thrill of
hope and faith in her voice was soothing. It soothed the wounded soul
and slowly brought a smile to his face.

At last she stopped reluctantly, tipped her golden head sideways in a
coquettish little triumphant movement, and in the quaintest imitation
of a man's voice said:

"I congratulate you, Miss Harriet--I like that very much!"

"Do you, professor? Oh, I'm so glad to please you!"

She shook her curls with genuine delight, and played out the little
dialogue with vivid imaginary touches.

Stuart laughed.

The girl leaped to her feet, blushing scarlet, rushed to his side and
seized his hand.

"Did you see me, Jim? Was I very foolish?"

"Certainly not. I quite agree with the professor. You will some day
sing before kings and queens, little girl. You sing as the birds,
because it's in your soul. And I want to thank you, too. You've helped
me again. I had a hard day's work before me, and you've made it easy."

"Then I shall be very happy all day, Jim!"

"Thank you, little pal--_au revoir_----"

He left her waving and smiling to him from the steps. He walked with
new vigour and a deepening sense of gratitude.

Strange what a gracious influence the child had over him. She was
always a ray of sunlight. This morning the touch of her hand and the
thrill of her voice had brought his dead soul back to life again. His
breath deepened and his step grew firm and swift.

He would fight for his own! He would go straight to Nan and laugh at
this announcement. He would compel her to hear him. It was an absurd
hour to call, but all the better. The more absurd, the deeper
impression he would make and the more certain would be his success. He
had written a note before--she had easily returned it unopened. She
would find it a difficult undertaking to get him out of the house!

Mrs. Primrose's greeting was so cordial, so genuinely friendly, that
for a moment he