of an artist, into your soul. But you are
a man who means a lot to me. If you didn't I shouldn't be writing
this letter. I believe you know what I know, what the audience knew
to-night, that the work you gave them is spurious, unworthy. It no
more represents you than the mud and the water that cover a lode of
gold represent what the miner is seeking for. I'm pretty sure you
must know.

"Perhaps you'll say: 'Then why have the impertinence to tell me?'

"It's because I've seen a little bit of the gold shining. The other
night, after I dined with you--you remember? Gold it was, that's
certain. We Americans know something about precious metal, or the
world belies us. After that night I was looking to write a great
article on you. And I'll do it yet. But I can't do it to-night.
That's my trouble. And it's a heavy one, heavier than I've had this
season. I've got to sit right down and say out the truth. I hate to
do it. And yet--do I altogether? I don't want to show up as
conceited, yet now, as I'm covering this bit of paper, I've begun
to think to myself: Shan't I, perhaps, while I'm doing my article,
be helping to clear away a little of the water and the mud that
cover the lode? Shan't I, perhaps, be getting the gold a bit nearer
to the light of the day, and the gaze of the world? Or, better
still, to the hand of the miner? Well, anyhow, I've got to go
ahead. I can't do anything else.

"But I remember the other night. And if I believe there's music
worth having in any man of our day I believe it's in you.--Your
very sincere friend, and your admirer,
"ALFRED VAN BRINEN."

Charmian read this letter slowly, not missing a word. As she read she
bent her head lower and lower; she almost crouched over the letter. When
she had finished it she sat quite still without raising her eyes for a
long time. The letter had vanished from her sight. And how much else
had vanished! In that moment little or nothing seemed left.

At last, as she did not move, Claude said, "You've finished?"

* * * * *

"You've finished the letter?"

"Yes."

"May I have it, then?"

She knew he was holding out his hand. She made a great effort, lifted
her hand, and gave him Van Brinen's letter without looking at him. She
heard the thin paper rustle as