The Master's Violin

“So I haven’t, darling,” answered Lynn, tenderly; “I gave it all to you, the very first day I saw you. Will you keep it for me, dear? Will you give me a little corner of your own?”

“All,” whispered Iris. “I think it has always been yours, but I didn’t know until just now.”

“How long have you been here, sweetheart?”

“I – I don’t know. I heard you play, and then I knew.”

“It was that blessed Cremona,” said Lynn, with his lips against her hair. “You said I should never kiss you again, dear, do you remember? Don’t you think it’s time you changed your mind?”

The golden minutes slipped by, and still they stood there, by the window in the hall. Margaret came back, and went up to her room, but no one heard her, even though she was singing. At the head of the stairs, she stopped, startled. Then, by the light of her own happiness, she understood, and crept softly away.

THE END