"If thou art indeed the Master," said Eloise, "let thy music be balm to my
chastened spirit."

The Master said: "Ay, Eloise, I will comfort thee in thy sorrow, and thy
heart shall be stayed, and a great joy will come to thee."

Then the Master drew his bow across the strings, and lo! forthwith there
arose such harmonies as Eloise had never heard before. Gently,
persuasively, they stole upon her senses and filled her soul with an
ecstasy of peace.

"Is it Herman that speaks to me?" cried Eloise. "It is his voice I hear,
and it speaks to me of love. With thy heart-music, O Master, all the
sweetness of his life comes back to comfort me!"

The Master did not pause; as he played, it seemed as if each tender word
and caress of Herman's life was stealing back on music's pinions to soothe
the wounds that death had made.

"It is the song of our love-life," murmured Eloise. "How full of memories
it is--what tenderness and harmony--and oh! what peace it brings! But tell
me, Master, what means this minor chord,--this undertone of sadness and of
pathos that flows like a deep, unfathomable current throughout it all, and
wailing, weaves itself about thy theme of love and happiness with its
weird and subtile influences?"

Then the Master said: "It is that shade of sorrow and sacrifice, O Eloise,
that ever makes the picture of love more glorious. An undertone of pathos
has been _my_ part in all these years to symmetrize the love of