Von Barwig did not speak. Another figure now outlined itself to his vision and became flesh and blood—the figure of Beverly Cruger.

It seemed to Von Barwig that young Mr. Cruger looked pale and anxious.

"What does he know?" the old man asked himself. "Is he here to find out?" and in that moment he determined to keep his secret.

Helene waited for Von Barwig to speak, but he remained silent.

"You must think it strange that I should call upon you to-day of all days," she said, shaking her head sadly, "and that I should bring my—my husband with me." She looked around at Beverly and he smiled approvingly. "But I am going away, Herr Von Barwig, and it would be very sad if we never met again; wouldn't it?"

Von Barwig still looked at her sadly, smilingly, but did not speak.

"I feel," she went on sadly, "I always have felt that you never meant to see me again." Von Barwig nodded; he dared not trust himself to speak now.

"What does she know? What does she know?" he asked himself. "Shall her mother's disgrace fall on her young shoulders as a wedding gift from me? No, no, no!"

Again the girl spoke: "I am beginning life all over again; from to-day," she said.

"Ah, that is right!" murmured Von Barwig.

"We were going to spend our honeymoon in Paris," said Helene in a curiously strained voice, for it was all she could do to keep back her tears; "but now we have changed our plans! We are going to the little town where I was born."

Von Barwig drew a deep breath and nodded. "So?"

"We are going to Leipsic," and Helene Cruger looked closely, anxiously, into the old man's face. No sign of recognition was there.

"Shall we go?" she asked after a pause. He shook his head.

"Don't go!" he said simply.

"Why not?" asked Helene, as if his answer meant a great deal to her.

"Leipsic is not a—a pleasant place for honeymoons," he replied evasively.

"That's just what—my—my father said." She was watching him closely now. The expression on Von Barwig's face was unchanged.

"Your father is—right," he said finally.

"I told him to-day after the service," said Helene, "that we were going to Leipsic, and he tried to make me promise not to go. When I refused, he forbade me to go, but he can't forbid me any more; he is beginning to understand that for the first time to-day." She spoke now with a deep-rooted sense of injury Von Barwig could only nod. He knew now that she had made some discovery.

"It's so easy to deceive a child," continued Helene in a voice that must have betrayed the great depth of her feelings. "A child believes everything you tell it. It will grow up on lies, but when that child is older and a woman, then the truth comes out! Herr Von Barwig, the truth comes out!" She looked him full in the face, but still there was no sign.

"What truth?" faltered the old man. He realised now that she knew; but exactly what did she know?

"You ask me that?" she said sadly. "You, my—my—old music master!"

"A music master who taught you nothing," he said evasively.

"Shall I go to Leipsic?" asked Helene.

The old man shook his head. "No!" he articulated faintly.

"Why not?" demanded Helene. There was no reply. "And you won't tell me why?"

"I have told you," faltered Von Barwig.

"What have I done, what have I done!" cried Helene, "that you won't claim me?" Her voice was now choked with sobs and she no longer made any effort to restrain them. "He wouldn't tell me either; he referred me to you. What have I done? I have waited and waited and waited, but you won't speak! You knew me from the first. You must have known me from the likeness. I was under your roof, you were under mine; but you wouldn't claim me. There is some disgrace!" The old man nodded. "Ah, then it's my mother!" cried Helene.

"Your mother? No! No!" cried Von Barwig. "No! she was an angel; an angel of goodness, of purity."

"Then what are you concealing?" cried Helene; "of what are you ashamed? Of what is he ashamed?"

Von Barwig rocked himself in agony, but at last he forced himself to speak.

"It's a little story of life, of love—foolishness; of—of folly. Ah, it is ended, ended!" wailed the old man. "It is over and done with. Why should we bring it out into the daylight when it has slept so long over there in Leipsic. Surely it has slept itself into silence. No! no! The secret is buried there in Leipsic. I—I put these orange blossoms on its grave!" and Von Barwig gently took the flowers from her. "I take them back to Leipsic; a little token of silence she would love."

"Now I know why she cried so constantly," sobbed Helene. "She was thinking of you!" She grasped his hand and looked pleadingly into his face. "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Von Barwig shook his head. "Silence is best! The marriage is over; I have the orange blossoms," and the old man kissed them tenderly.

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" entreated Helene.

"Your husband, what does he say?" said Von Barwig, in a low voice. He felt he could not restrain himself much longer.

Beverly came forward. "He says: 'Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?'"

Von Barwig shook his head. The tears were running down his cheeks, and when he tried to withdraw his hand from hers Helene refused to let it go.

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" she said entreatingly.

Von Barwig could restrain himself no longer. "Well, perhaps I do," he said in a voice trembling with emotion; "perhaps I do!" Taking her in his arms, he kissed her again and again.

"At last, at last! My little Elene! My little baby—my little baby!"

"Father, father!" was all Helene could say. Beverly looked out of the window.

"Now we mend that doll with the broken eye," said the old man, gulping down a sob and smiling through his tears.

"Yes, father," and Helene took his face between her two hands.

"Say it again!" he murmured. "It is the sound I have listened for these sixteen years."

"Father!" repeated Helene.

Beverly looked at his watch. "The steamer leaves in less than an hour," he said. "How long will it take you to pack?" he asked. "You are going with us now, father," he added, patting the old man on the back and shaking him by the hand. Von Barwig seemed dazed.

"Come, father," pleaded Helene, "no foolish pride! My home is your home after this. Now don't hesitate!"

"Hesitate? I, hesitate?" and rushing to the stairway the old man shouted loudly for Miss Husted. Poons was just coming up the stairs to find out why Von Barwig didn't come down to drink Jenny's health. Von Barwig gave him a message which brought them all up in breathless haste.

Mr. and Mrs. Cruger had gone below, and Von Barwig had finished packing and was locking his portmanteau as his friends stood around begging him to tell them why he was going and where.

"I go on a honeymoon," he said, and they all laughed. "I go home," he added. "No cruel farewells, no sad partings! Jenny will tell you. I am called away. Sit down, all of you, where you always sit. Fico, your mandolin; Pinac, your violin! Poons, your 'cello!" They did as he asked them, "So, now! Play, sing, be happy, just as always! Come, the old dinner song we always sang; let it ring in my ears as I go!" Though their hearts were heavy, they burst into their oft-sung glee, Miss Husted and Jenny joining in the chorus.

"So, so!" murmured the old man, beating time and smiling approval. "I want to go away seeing you all happy, as happy as I am, smiling, happy faces!"

"You will come back?" whispered Jenny as the old man kissed her tenderly.

"I come back," he said gently, "I come back! Good-bye, good-bye all of you! Yes, I come back, I come back," and Anton Von Barwig disappeared down the stairs and out of their lives. His eyes were still wet with tears as he took his seat in the carriage. Helene dried them with a beautiful Duchesse lace handkerchief.

"Don't cry, father," she pleaded.

"Ach, I don't cry!" said the old man as he patted her hand. "I—I—" he hesitated. "When I think of the many, many kind hearts in this world—I—I just feel happy, that's all!"

THE END