"Ferris told me that he and his wife naturally could not bear to consider such a thing, but on the other hand, the baby's welfare must be their first consideration. What should I advise them to do? "I considered the matter carefully, and at last told him he'd better accept the offer to care for the baby for a year or so. She, at least, would be provided for, and he and his wife could then take their chances without imperiling her future. To follow this advice nearly broke their hearts, but the next missionaries who went back to England on furlough took the baby with them, and gave her into the care of the brother and his wife. It is needless to say that Cecily Ferris is the same whom we know as Cecily Marlowe. I would recognize her anywhere, for she is the image of her mother." And he looked toward the girl sitting in the dim light, held by the wonder of his story. The silence that ensued was broken first by her. "Tell me, if you please," she half whispered, "did my father ever--ever play to me on his violin? Do you know what he played?" "Why, I'm sure he did," smiled Dr. Atwater. "I used to stop at his house early in the evening sometimes, and I generally found him fiddling away by the side of your cradle. Mostly it was an air he called 'Träumerei,' or something like that. I'm not very good at remembering musical names." "I knew it!--I _knew_ I'd heard it somewhere, over and over again, when I was little!" she cried. "And yet I never could remember anything else about it!" "He used to say it was his favorite," remarked Dr. Atwater. Suddenly Miss Benedict spoke, for the first time during the recital. There was a tremble of suppressed excitement in her voice. "Is that all the story?"