ons done quickly and without needing to be
reminded, and then regularly disappeared in his own quarters, and she
had her private hopes and expectations.

Nor were they disappointed. What cannot be done with patience and
cheerfulness? Those three weeks had seen more progress made than the
three months before, and Basil's eyes danced with pleasure when he left
off playing and stood waiting to hear what his mother would say.

She said nothing, but she drew him to her and kissed him tenderly, and
Basil, peeping up half shyly--for somehow, as he told Blanche
afterwards, "mother's _pleased_ kisses" always made him feel a little
shy--saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"You _are_ pleased, mother?" he whispered, and another kiss was the
answer. Then the young stranger came forward.

"Herr Wildermann, I must thank you for all the trouble you have taken. I
am more than pleased," said Lady Iltyd warmly. "How have you succeeded
so well? You have taught him more than his music--you have taught him to
persevere, and to keep up heart in spite of difficulties."

"He has taught himself, madame," said Ulric eagerly, his face flushing.
"It was his kind heart that gave him what he needed. Ah, Master Basil,"
he went on, turning to his little pupil, "I must now tell the whole, and
then it will be to say if you are still to continue your lessons."

"The whole" was soon told, and it is easy to understand that it did not
lessen Lady Iltyd's pleasure. She had been glad to find her boy capable
of real effort and determination--she was still more glad to find that
the new motive which had prompted these was unselfish sympathy and
kindness.

"I thank you _again_, Herr Wildermann," she said, when the young man had
told her all, "you have, as I said, taught Basil more lessons than you
knew. And your mother is happy to have so good a son."

Better days began for the young music-master. Thanks to Basil's mother
and to Basil himself, for the boy became a pupil who would have done
credit to any master, Herr Wildermann gradually made his way in the
neighbourhood he had chosen for his new home, and his old mother's later
days were passed in peace and comfort. He always counted Tarnworth his
home, though as time went on he came to be well known as one of the
first violinists of the day, in London and others of the great capitals
of Europe.

But sometimes when his success and popularity were at the highest, he
would turn to the friend who had been