d those
who loved it. As he listened to it, Maurice fancied he could hear the
breathing of the player, and he felt that she was listening, too,
listening tensely for footsteps on the terrace.

Gaspare looked up at him with bright eyes. The boy's whole face was alive
with a gay and mischievous happiness, as he turned the handle at the back
of his clock slowly, slowly, till at last it would turn no more. Then
there tinkled forth to join the "Pastorale" the clear, trilling melody of
the "Tre Colori."

The music in the room ceased abruptly. There was a rustling sound as the
player moved. Then Hermione's voice, with something trembling through it
that was half a sob, half a little burst of happy laughter, called out:

"Gaspare, how dare you interrupt my concert?"

"Signora! Signora!" cried Gaspare, and, springing up, he darted into the
sitting-room.

But Maurice, though he lifted himself up quickly, stood where he was with
his hand set hard against the wall of the house. He heard Gaspare kiss
Hermione's hand. Then he heard her say:

"But, but, Gaspare----"

He took his hand from the wall with an effort. His feet seemed glued to
the ground, but at last he was in the room.

"Hermione!" he said.

"Maurice!"

He felt her strong hands, strong and yet soft like all the woman, on his.

"Cento di questi giorni!" she said. "Ah, but it is better than all the
birthdays in the world!"

He wanted to kiss her--not to please her, but for himself he wanted to
kiss her--but he dared not. He felt that if his lips were to touch
hers--she must know. To excuse his avoidance of the natural greeting he
looked at Gaspare.

"I know!" she whispered. "You haven't forgotten!"

She was alluding to that morning on the terrace when he came up from the
fishing. They loosed their hands. Gaspare set the clock playing again.

"What a beauty!" Hermione said, glad to hide her emotion for a moment
till she and Maurice could be alone. "What a marvel! Where did you find
it, Gaspare--at the fair?"

"Si, signora!"

Solemnly he handed it, still playing brightly, to his padrona, just a
little reluctantly, perhaps, but very gallantly.

"It is for you, signora."

"A present--oh, Gaspare!"

Again her voice was veiled. She put out her hand and touched the boy's
hand.

"Grazie! How sweetly it plays! You thought of me!"

There was a silence till the tune was finished. Then Maurice said:

"Hermione, I don't know what to say. That we should be a