head proudly as she uttered aloud the words, "If this can ever be
true, my power shall be equal to his."

A moment later she was evoking half-exultant chords from the piano.
These soon grew low and dreamy, and the girl said softly to herself:
"I have lived more in two days than in months of the past. Truly
real life is better than a sham, shallow existence."

The door-bell rang, and she started to her feet. "Who can know I
am in town?" she queried.

Fenton Lane entered with extended hand and the words: "I was passing
and knew I could not be mistaken in your touch. Your presence was
revealed by the music as unmistakably as if I had met you on the
street. Am I an intruder? Please don't order me away under an hour
or two."

"Indeed, Mr. Lane, truth compels me to say that I am here in deep
retirement. I have been contemplating a convent."

"May I ask your motive?"

"To repent of my sins."

"You would have to confess at a convent. Why not imagine me a
venerable father, dozing after a good dinner, and make your first
essay at the confessional?"

"You tax my imagination too greatly. So I should have to confess;
therefore no convent for me."