When Falconer had left the room, Nell told Dick of Lady Wolfer's visit.

"Oh!" he said, by no means delightedly. "And wants you to go and live with her; or offered to make us an allowance, I suppose? At any rate, I won't have anything of that kind, Nell," he added, with fraternal despotism.

"You need not be afraid. I shall not go—there are reasons——" She turned away to hide the sudden blush. "And I am as proud as you, Dick. I should like to ask Mr. Falconer to come down to us at this place. He has not been looking well lately."

Dick shook his head.

"No, poor beggar! I'm afraid he's in a bad way. Do you hear him cough at night? It's worse than he pretends."

"Hush!" said Nell warningly, as the musician reëntered, his violin held lovingly under his arm.

Soon the small room was filled with the strains of jubilant music—a "Te Deum" of thanksgiving and rejoicing.

"That's for you," he said.

Then suddenly the tune changed to a sad yet delicious melody whose sweetness thrilled through Nell, and made her think of Shorne Mills—and Drake; and as he played on she turned her face away from him and to the open window through which the wailing of the music floated, causing more than one of the passers-by in the street beneath to pause and look up with wistful eyes.

"And that is for me," said Falconer; "for me—and the rest of us—whom you will leave behind. Good night." And with an abrupt nod he left the room.