As the last words died away Lord Eltonville stepped forward with outstretched hand; but George's strength was exhausted, the flush died away from his face, and he fell backwards into the priest's arms.
IV.
Time and circumstances change men, some for good and some for ill. It is an acknowledged fact that success often spoils the best natures, although to those on whom Fortune seldom smiles, this is hard to realise.
Thanks to Lord Eltonville's generosity and kind care, George Ermen had become a great man. His wish had been gratified; he had earned money and position.
Twenty years had passed since the geranium show. The ragged waif of that day had owned a sweet, loving nature, which seemed lost in the great musician of St. James's.
His father had died in prison. His mother's memory had scarcely survived. He never spoke of his early days, and looked upon them as a disgrace. Miss Brand's name seldom occurred to him, Father Francis was forgotten, and Maggie Reed languished in poverty.
In a gorgeous mansion, replete with every luxury, the musician sat at dinner with his young wife. The room was elegantly furnished; the walls were hung with fine oil-paintings. The table was decorated with hot-house flowers. Outside it was snowing, and the night was bitterly cold.
There was a great hush in the house. In the morning they had buried their only child. She had lived a year, and the first snow of winter had covered her grave.
George Ermen's selfish heart had been deeply touched by the loss of the little one, and somehow, when dinner was over, and he sat alone in his study, the remembrance of his childhood came over him like a forgotten strain of music.