if I've seemed unreasonable," was the low answer.

"But you will think it over, won't you? just for my sake--just because
I ask it--won't you?"

"Just because you ask it--yes, I will, dearest!"

He kissed her tenderly and walked home with a great sickening fear
slowly creeping into his heart.

CHAPTER IV

MR. BIVENS CALLS

Stuart waked next morning with a sense of hopeless depression. He had
intended to make an engagement with Nan to visit the little home. It
was impossible to suggest it in the mood he had found her. What strange
madness had come over the woman he loved? They had never discussed
money before. Bivens was the only explanation.

He dressed himself mechanically and went down stairs. A letter was on
the hall rack which had been sent by a messenger. He broke the seal
with nervous haste. It was from Bivens asking him to call his office
telephone at eleven o'clock.

He tore the note into tiny pieces, stepped into the parlour and threw
them into the grate. He stood for a moment gazing into the glowing
coals in brooding anger. Slowly he became conscious of music. Some one
was playing an old-fashioned Southern melody, and the tenderest voice
accompanied the piano. He walked to the door of the music-room.

It was Harriet.

As he listened, the frown died from his face and the anger melted out
from his heart. The music ceased. Harriet looked up with a start.

"Oh, Jim, I didn't know you were there!"

"It was beautiful, little pal."

"Yes, I knew you'd like that piece. I heard you humming it one day.
That's why I got it."

"What a sweet voice you have, child, so clear, so deep and rich and
full of feeling. I didn't know you could sing."

"I didn't either until I tried."

"You must study music," he said, with enthusiasm.

The girl clapped her hands and leaped to her feet, exclaiming:

"Will you be proud of me, Jim, if I can sing?"

"Indeed I will," was the earnest answer.

The laughing eyes grew serious as she slowly said:

"Then, I'll do my level best. I'm off--good-bye."

With a wave of her hand she was gone, and Stuart hurried to his office,
whistling the old tune she had just sung.

What curious, sensitive things--these souls of ours! An idea enters and
blackens the sky, makes sick the body, kills hope and faith. The soft
strains of an old piece of music steals into the darkened spirit, the
shadows lift, the sun shines, the heart beats with life and the world
is new again.

O