“Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to trust herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't understand her feelings, but you must respect them.” “I do,” replied Quincy. “I have never doubted her love for me, and your theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more forcibly.” On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a reporter, then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a literary life for that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in demand at private parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. At one of these, he had become infatuated with the daughter of a railroad magnate who counted his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, he knew it was useless to ask her father for his daughter's hand. The young lady's mother was dead. The father died suddenly of apoplexy, and Miss Edith Winser came into possession of the millions. Then he had spoken and been accepted. Conscious that her husband, talented as he was, would not be accepted, without a hard struggle, by the upper class, they decided to live in Europe. He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek and Roman art were symbolized therein. The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in which Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. “I have just come from Paris,” said Mr. Wallingford, “where I have made arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?” “Tell him your story,” whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. “If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another honeymoon. Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will make them forget the sorrows of the past.” “I am afraid,” said Quincy, “that such good fortune would be more than miraculous.” “Come with your mother and friend then,” said Mr. Wallingford as he left them to change cars. They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide book. “Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?” “All we can do,” said Tom, “is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, keep asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our courage.” “Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis your turn.”