"Have you arranged with Mrs. Cruger about giving her nieces lessons?"

asked Helene, carelessly striking a few chords on the piano.

"Not yet," replied Von Barwig, "I am to go next week." Then he added with a little laugh, "The young ladies postpone me as long as possible."

Here they were interrupted by the entrance of Denning, the under-butler, who informed Miss Stanton that her father wished to see her in the library. Von Barwig saw a downcast expression on Helene's face as she left the room. "Perhaps he does not approve of the marriage, this Mr. Stanton. Well, I do!" he said with emphasis. "I do, and I am determined that she shall marry the man of her choice. He is a splendid fellow, fully worthy of her. If this father interferes, I shall-- Let me see, what shall I do?"

Von Barwig laughed at his own foolishness in allowing his thoughts to run on unchecked. Somehow they always led him into a ridiculous position from which he could never extricate himself.

"I shall tell this father," he went on in a more compromising vein of thought, "I shall tell him that his daughter's happiness is at stake, and that he must not allow personal considerations to interfere with that happiness. Then he will have me flung out of his house. No, thank you, Barwig, you will not speak; but none the less that is what I think! Her happiness first, last and all the time. Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Stanton," said Von Barwig mentally. His thoughts rushed him along pell-mell now and he followed them, thoroughly enjoying the mental pictures they brought up. "Let me tell you my secret, Mr.

Stanton! She is my daughter as well as yours. I have adopted her.

She does not know it, nor do you, but I do! She has taken the place of my own little one and I love her, Mr. Stanton. I love her just as much, aye, even more than you do, sir, and this love gives me the right to speak. You shall not interfere with her happiness! Do you hear me, sir?"

Von Barwig had now lashed himself into a whirlwind of imaginary indignation and was pacing up and down the music room; his thoughts completely engrossing him. They were the only realities in life to him now, these thoughts, and he treasured them as philosophers do the truths of existence. All at once his eye caught a pile of music that lay on the table next to Miss Stanton's dolls' cabinet in the corner of the room opposite the piano. He observed the Beethoven Concerto for pianoforte which had Helene Stanton's name on it, also the C Minor and F Minor concertos of Chopin, besides other compositions for pianoforte of an exceedingly difficult character; all this music was marked with her name and the date.

"There must be some mistake," he thought, as he read the names. "She cannot play these difficult compositions, surely! It may be her mother had played them, but no, they are dated within a year or so of the present day!"

Everything was explained to him now. He was no longer surprised at the unaccountable unevenness of her playing. She had deceived him. "Why, why?" he wondered.

Then it came to him. "Of course! Fool, dolt, idiot! she wanted to benefit you, so she pretends she cannot play and takes lessons she does not need. But why should she wish to befriend you, why?"

Von Barwig was silent a long time. "Why, why?" he kept asking himself and his thoughts could get no further. "Am I dreaming?" He looked around. "Is it all a dream? Do I merely believe these things happen, or are they real? Sometimes these people seem like phantoms of the past; phantoms that come and vanish like the thoughts that give them existence. There seems to be no substance in them. But real or phantom, dreaming or waking, my love for her is real. That is G.o.d's truth! I feel it, I know it! I love her, I love her! Of that alone I am certain. That is truth, if nothing else is!"

In the meantime, Helene found her father awaiting her in the library.

Mr. Stanton was in very excellent spirits.

"Why did you trouble to come down, my dear child? I intended to come up and see you," he said as she entered the door. "I told Denning to find out if you could receive me; servants are so stupid!"

"Oh, it doesn't matter! I was only taking a music lesson."

"Yes, so Denning said. I didn't know you'd taken up your musical studies again," and then before Helene could reply, he went on:

"Sit down, my dear, I want to ask, no, not ask; I want to make a suggestion. I want you to do something for my sake. The spring has fairly set in; in a few weeks it will be summer, and I may want to go abroad again. Can you arrange to have your marriage take place late in June or early in July?"

"No, father!" replied Helene in a somewhat decided tone. "I am sorry,"

she added quickly, as she saw an expression of disappointment in his face.

"Why not, may I ask?" inquired her father.

"Because Beverly is engaged in Washington at the State Department. The secretary has promised him an under-secretaryship in one of the European emba.s.sies if his work there is satisfactory, and our marriage would interrupt his work."

"Not necessarily," said Mr. Stanton. "Besides he doesn't need any career! He will have plenty of money, and----"

"I don't think all the money in the world would be sufficient to support Beverly Cruger in idleness," responded Helene with some spirit.

"The Crugers are not well off, and he refuses to accept anything from his father; and as for living on my income, it's out of the question, father! He insists on earning his own living and working out his own career."

"Well, after all, that shows a good spirit," said Mr. Stanton, "but I really don't see how an early marriage would interfere with his resolutions on that point. He could go on working."

"His income is insufficient just at present," said Helene, "and it will be until next year. The marriage cannot take place till then. I am sorry."

"Some time next winter, eh? That's a long time, Helene; so many things may happen," said Mr. Stanton thoughtfully.

"What could happen?" asked Helene in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know; I'm nervous and apprehensive. I want to see you married and settled," replied her father almost peevishly, as if he didn't want to go into explanations. "I've a curious notion that I want to see you married and settled. It's a--a--my anxiety for you, Helene," added Mr.

Stanton, forcing a smile.

"You're very kind," repeated Helene. She did not understand her father in the least. He seemed to be afraid of something, his manner was distinctly apprehensive. She moved slowly toward the door, deep in thought.

"Are you going?" asked Mr. Stanton.

"My music master is waiting for me," replied Helene.

"Your music master? Oh, yes, you said you'd taken up your studies again."

Helene smiled. "You can hardly call it taking up my studies," she said. "Herr Von Barwig just--so to speak--goes over; I hardly know how to describe it. I think he tries to improve my technique."

Was it imagination or had her father turned ashen pale? He looked at her, barely able to speak; he seemed to have received an awful shock and he was gasping for breath. What had happened? There was a pause during which Helene wondered why she had not noticed before how pale and ill her father looked, and how his hands trembled.

"What did you say was his name?" asked Mr. Stanton, barely able to repress the emotion in his voice.

"Professor Von Barwig. Oh, he's not known here as well as he was in Germany! What's the matter, father?" she cried out as the man almost tottered into his chair. "Father, father! what is it?"

"Nothing, nothing; what should be the matter? I--these attacks come periodically now. A little heart trouble--it will soon pa.s.s away.

Ring for Joles!"

She obeyed him instantly.

"Good G.o.d, good G.o.d! Is it possible? Right under my own roof!"

muttered Stanton, "and with her! Oh, G.o.d!"

"I rang for him, father," said Helene, looking at him anxiously.

"It's Ditson I want to see. Ditson, Ditson! not Joles." Then he added quickly, "No, I don't want to see any one! I'm better now; these attacks pa.s.s away quickly. Sit down, my dear child; I want to talk to you. What were you saying?" he asked, anxious to hear and yet not wishing to arouse her suspicion as to the cause of his anxiety.

"Nothing of any importance, father."

"Yes, yes; I insist! Go right on with our conversation where we left off. You were speaking of your--your--musical professor, Anton Von Barwig." Mr. Stanton had almost completely recovered himself now.

"How did you know his first name, father?"

"You mentioned it, you must have done so," said Mr. Stanton quickly.

"Yes, I remember you did! When you first mentioned his name, you called him Anton. And he is upstairs," added her father with a curious laugh, "in this house."

Helene thought his manner most strange. He was regarding her now with a curious, searching gaze. "He can have told her nothing," he muttered, "he must be as ignorant of the truth as she is. Good G.o.d, what a coincidence!"

Joles came and Ditson was sent for. When the confidential secretary arrived, Mr. Stanton and he went into the private study. Helene followed them.

"Will you need me any more, father?" she asked anxiously.