"I have worked hard to make this venture a success," he said at last, in a dejected tone, "and hoped for much, but now it all seems likely to vanish, and worse than that, the good people here who have bought stock will lose by it and blame me. I cannot tell them how matters stand, or even leave here at present, and yet any day I may hear that the company has dissolved. I've lost all confidence in them now, and to protect myself am forced to act a dishonorable part and let them send money I do not need. I have a friend to whom I sent our stock, but no word comes from him, and so, little girl, you see why I am so disheartened." But Mona scarcely understood all he had said--some of it not at all. The matter of stock values and how the present dilemma came about was quite beyond her. What she did understand was that some grave danger threatened Winn and he must leave the island. She had, impelled by a sweet girlish impulse, come to the cave early that day, bringing ferns and flowers to deck it and surprise this man whose every word and smile seemed of so much value. She had brought her violin, glad if he cared to hear her play; she had hoped the little outing, away from all others in this trysting place, would be charming to him; and in her girlish heart meant to make it so, and now the little plan had come to naught, and instead she had heard what caused a heartache. The ferns were fast wilting and the violin remained in its case. "Come, dear," said Winn, speaking freely and seeing the cloud on her face, "let us forget this trouble and enjoy this afternoon. We may not have another one here. Please play for me now." But her muse had fled, and she only turned away to hide the pain in her face. "I will by and by," she said faintly; "I want to think now." And Winn, conscious of the blow he had dealt her, felt a strange sense of guilt. He had known for many weeks that his every word and look and smile was a joy to her, and while not for one instant had she overstepped the bounds of maidenly reserve, her thoughts were of him. And then as he looked at her with face half turned away and lips tightly closed as if to keep back the tears, a sudden impulse to gather her close in his arms and whisper fond and loving words came to him. But he put it away. "I wish you would play for me, dear," he said very gently, "and drive away my blues. Play something lively." And the boy god, ever hovering where hearts are tender, sheathed his arrow and flew away. Many times afterward Winn thought of that moment and always with regret. A little longer Mona waited, and then, like an obedient child, drew her violin from its case. Our moods are our masters, and be it untutored girl or world-wise man or woman, they shadow or brighten all expression. And though Mona played at his bidding one and another of the lively airs she knew, a minor chord of sadness ran through them all.