hat sheltering his face.

"I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem:
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?"

The well-placed voice and accent were those of an educated man. The
words of the old song, delivered clearly with true musical feeling, were
touched with a thrill of passion.

The thread of the melody was abruptly cut off by a sudden mad clatter of
hoofs. A carriage dashed wildly along and swerved round the corner. The
singer dropped his instrument and sprang at the horse's bridle. A
moment's struggle, and he fell by the curb-stone dazed and shaken, but
the runaway was checked and the footman was down at his head, while the
coachman tightened his rein.

The singer struggled to his feet. The brougham window was lowered, and a
clear-cut feminine face leaned forward.

"Thank you very much," said a cool, level voice, in a tone suitable to
the recovery of some fallen trifle.

"Williamson"--to the coachman--"give this man half a crown, and drive
on."

While Williamson fumbled in his pocket for the money, the singer gave
one glance at the proud, cold face framed by the carriage window, then
turned hurriedly away.

"Hey, David!" called the coachman to the groom. "Give her her head and
jump up. She'll be all right now. Whoa--whoa, old girl. That chap's
gone--half-crowns ain't seemingly in his line. Steady, old girl!" And
the carriage disappeared into the night.

The singer picked up his guitar and leant on the railings. He was shaken
and faint. Something seemed amiss with his left hand. He laid his
forehead against the cool iron and drew a deep breath, muttering--

"It was she! When I heard her cold, cruel voice I thanked God I am as I
am. Thank God for my child and a sacred memory----"

"Are you hurt?" asked a friendly voice.

The singer looked up to see a man standing hatless above him on the
steps of the house. He strove to reply, but his tongue refused to act;
he swayed while rolli