eir lips met for a moment as
purely and silently as the twilight meets the night;--these were
pictures that would not fade and dissolve. There was something
unforgettable about them.

Was it the spirit of place that possessed them with a unique
loveliness; or was it that they were illuminated by the charm of a
companionship in which two hearts had tasted together the sweetest cup
in the world, the royal chalice of the pure, uncalculating,
inexplicable joy of living?

Be that as it may, the fact remains that while the boy and the girl
went away from each other, and grew separately to manhood and
womanhood, and had other experiences and joys and troubles, that
summer stayed with them both as something rare and unequalled, set
apart in its delectable perfection, a standard by which,
unconsciously, they measured all happiness and all beauty.

The effect of such an inward standard is peculiar. It is apt to give a
certain detachment, a touch of isolation, to the person who possesses
it. And whether that is a good thing or a bad thing depends upon the
tone which is given to it by an unknown quantity, the way in which the
secret will of the spirit chooses to take and use it.

To Carola Brune it was like the possession of something very precious,
which she had found and which she felt she could never lose. She
followed the path which was marked out for her as a student of music
with tranquil enthusiasm and cheerful industry; she made friends
everywhere by her serene and wholesome loveliness; and she did her
work at the piano so well that when she went to Paris, at the end of
the second year, to continue her studies, she found no difficulty in
being received as a pupil by the great Alberti.

"You have a very happy touch, mademoiselle," said the little gray man
one day at the end of a lesson. He gave his moustache that fierce
upward turn with which he accompanied his rare compliments, and
frowned at her benignly while he went on. "I suppose you know that you
really play better than you know how to play. What right have you to
do that?"

She smiled as she turned around to him, for she had learned to
understand his abrupt ways. "No right, dear master," she said, "only
perhaps it is because I happen to know a little of the meaning of
happiness."

"But you play the sad music too," he continued, "and you let it all
come out."

"That is because I am not afraid of sadness," she answered, with her
clear brown eyes looking quie