t went out and left the key in the
lock. Franz entered with the evening worshippers. A nameless feeling
seized him. Urged on by the sudden impulse, he mounted the stairs. He
did not dream of playing, he only thought of the organ as his father's
friend; and to seat himself on the stool where his father had so often
sat was all he aimed to do. A moment, and he spied the key; would
there be any harm in raising the lid and playing himself? Herr Von
Stein had never denied him. He grew courageous. A few chords and Franz
forgot that his father would be expecting him; piece after piece was
played till his memory could serve him no longer, and then he began to
improvise.

All at once heavy shadows were cast over the keys: he looked down
into the church, it was dark and still. A strange awe seized him, he
felt that it was night; and the great doors locked. Hastily as his
trembling limbs would allow, he crept down the stairs. Darkness
shrouded the aisles. He reached the doors, they were barred and
bolted. What would his father say? and Nanette, would she think where
he was, and rouse the old door-keeper?

High up through the tower-window he caught sight of a star; and the
moon poured her silver radiance full on the face of the organ.
Creeping up the stairs, he once more opened the instrument. Surely
some one would hear him if he played, and Nanette he knew would not
leave him to stay in the old cathedral alone.

Hours passed: the full moon cast her splendor on a sweet child-face
bent over the keys in the organ-loft of the old cathedral, a smile
still played about his lips, and his light brown hair lay in rings on
his broad, white forehead. Franz was asleep, and while asleep he
dreamed.

* * * * *

A beautiful lady, he thought, came to the cottage; she had a sweet,
lovely face, but so sad that Franz wondered what sorrow could have
come to one so rich and beautiful. The lady caught the expression of
his eye, and slipping her arm around him, drew him still nearer.

"You think because I am rich that I must be happy. Learn then, my
child, that wealth does not bring happiness; neither does beauty win
lasting favor. To be good is to be rich, and it also makes us
beautiful. The power that we have in ourselves is far superior to the
outward circumstances that surround us."

"My father had this power," replied Franz. "You see it did not profit
him; for when he thought himself secure as kappelmeister,