s girl I had scarcely known. I studied hotel
registers, old play-bills, and always old books. I had not thought of
her for years and now I desired more than anything else in life to see
once more her dancing blue eyes and hear again her laughter.

BUT it was all in vain that I scanned faces in the streets, in railway
stations, in passing cabs. I could find no trace of Victoria O'Fallon.

* * * * *

YEARS passed.

I WAS travelling one dull English day from London to Glasgow. In the
railway carriage toward night I fell into desultory talk with a sad
uneasy looking man who shared the compartment with me. At some turn in
the conversation he told me his name was O'Fallon.

THE worn copy of Browning seemed almost to take form in my hand--and
Victoria--her dream, her hair, her enchanting laugh.

FOR moments I was too dazed to speak. Then I managed to ask if by any
chance he was related to a girl Victoria O'Fallon. He stared at me in
silence, while a look of hatred and despair distorted his face.

FINALLY in a choked voice he breathed rather than spoke--

I AM just out of prison because of Victoria O'Fallon--she was my niece.
I sent her to Paris. She was on the stage, just one night--I struck
her--she fell on a chair--her back. She's dead now.

HE gazed vaguely out into the gathering darkness.

THEN he seemed to remember me.

THERE was a French Count he began, but his voice sank into silence.

I SAT as if I had been turned to stone.

A NEAPOLITAN STREET SONG

ALONE--

A CITY full of lights, of pleasure. The sea singing to itself as it
rolled quietly into the harbor. A glow of light on distant Vesuvius. Gay
throngs of people passing to and fro in the summer evening. Alone. For
the first time in her life.

A HEAVY heart--there was no joy.

THEY had come to Naples on their wedding journey. Her brief happiness
had been taken--torn from her.

ASHES.
He--cold--rigid--lay in the adjoining room.

TWO candles burned. A nun prayed. Monica leaned out of the window.

THROUGH her tears she saw a star shining in the night.

A STAR of sorrow.

THE sea--they had gone together on its blue waves to Capri--to
Sorrento--

WAS it some terrible nightmare--would she awaken and find him near.

FROM a distant street came the sound of music--gay--lively--a Neapolitan
street song.

HOW could there be joy. The sound was agony. An organ might have
soothed.

HAD there ever been a time