The Human Chord

sness with a murmuring, singing sound that continued on in his thoughts like a melody. His racing blood carried it to every portion of his bo

esistible desire to draw her yet closer to him and kiss her little shining face. Thirdly-though the three impressions were as a matter of fact almost simultaneous-that the huge figure of the clergyman st

s meeting was of param

's pu

e delightful than the first, for the quality was low and fluty, like the gentle note of some mellow wind instrument, and the caressing way she pronounced his name was a revelation. Mr. Skale had known how to make it sound

ran out to meet each other as naturally as two notes of music run to take their places in a chord. This slight, blue-eyed youth, light of hair and sensitive of spirit, and this slim, dark-skinned little maiden, with the voice of music and th

lder of each, he half pushed them before him into the dining room, his whole face running, as it were, into a single big smile of contentmen

upon a sliding platform that was moving ever quicker, and that the adventure upon which he was embarked had now acquired a m

eir voices. They spoke little enough, however, only their eyes met continually, and when they did so there was no evidence of a desire to withdraw. Their gaze remained fastened on one another, on her part with

ary feel of great account. He had never quite realized his own value before. Her presence, her eyes, her voice served to bring it out. And a very curious detail that he always mentions just at this point is the fact that it never occurred to him to wonder what her surname might be, or whether, indeed, she had one at all. Her name, Miriam, seemed sufficient. The rest of her-if there was any other part of her not described by those three syllables-lay safely and naturally included somewhere in his own name. "Spinrobin" described her as well as himself. But "Miriam"

They talked little, Mr. Skale hardly at all. Miriam spoke from time to time across the table to the secretary. She did not ask questions, she stated facts, as though she already knew all about his feelings and tastes. She may hav

hout a trace of shyness, "the moment I heard yo

t of it,

interrupted. "And I like your name," she added, looking him f

yours,

hed; "Mr. Skale gave it t

e clergyman, speaking a

again, the secretary'

as a little boy," she said pr

hout hesitation; "only I

und, and makes everything seem worth while. But you lose your way at f

there was no element of alarm in it all. In the room with these two, and with the motherly figure of the housekeeper busying about to and fro, he felt at home, comforted, looked after-more even, he felt at his best; as though the stream of his little life were ming