Well, never in his life had so much happiness come as now. He seemed to grow younger each day, for in the new joy that had come to Mona he found his own. Then, too, a change came to Mona's mother. No longer did she consider "fiddlin' a man's business," and frown at her child. In their temporary home that daughter ruled supreme, her every wish gratified, her every whim considered just right. "We'll go back 'n' visit the island fer a spell," Jess said, when the season at the "Alhambra" was nearing its close; "an' then we'll take ye 'round, girlie, an' let ye see the world. I kin 'ford it now, 'n' the best is none too good fer ye." But the current of Fate twists and turns us at will, while adown the stream of life we float, and sometimes we drift into smooth waters and again we are dashed against the rocks. With our will or against our will, no matter, we are swept on. And a Power quite beyond our ken is ever in control. And one evening, despondent, aimless, and feeling life a hopeless fight and Fate against him, Winn Hardy drifted into the "Alhambra." No knowledge of the star that nightly blazed there had reached him, and if he had read of her, it was as of others who were noticed by the press and unknown to him. He came in, as he entered other theatres, on a reporter's pass, privileged to take a seat if not occupied, or else stand. In this case, it seemed the latter, for the house was packed and a fringe of men circled the foyer. The boxes were also filled; and as Winn glanced across to them, there in one, dressed in evening gown, her arms and shoulders bare, and slowly fanning herself, sat Ethel Sherman. And with her--Simmons! It was nothing to Winn, of course, and yet it awoke disgust. The usual vaudeville acts were on in turn, and Winn, somewhat weary with life, and watching one particular box more than the stage, was about to leave when suddenly a wild burst of applause swept over the house, and there, just tripping on to the stage, bowing and smiling as she came was--Mona! For one instant his heart stopped beating. Great Heavens, could it be possible, or was this some insane dream! He gasped for breath. The house seemed to twist and turn. And then, as he leaned against a pillar to steady himself, a hush came. And what a picture stood before him! Not the half-developed, ill-clad girl who had sat with him in the cave! Not the timid child with wondering eyes, looking up to him as a superior being! Not the gentle Mona, the sweet flower, awaiting his hand. Oh, no! Instead, a proud and beautiful woman, erect and smiling, with conscious power. A stately creature with rounded arms, dimpled throat, and perfect shoulders like marble, emerging from the soft white silk that trailed upon the stage. And in the crowning coils of hair, black as night, a single pink rosebud, half open, and in her hand the same old brown violin!