"Some day, Beloved, when the ways part once more, and thou or I shall be called to follow the Grey Angel into the darkness, I think we shall not fear. Perhaps we shall be very weary, and the one will be glad because the other has come into the Great Rest. But, Beloved, thou knowest that if it is I who must follow the Grey Angel, and still leave thee on the dusty road alone, mine grave will be no division. Life hath not taught me not to love thee with all mine soul, and Death shall not. Life is the positive, and Death is the negation. Shall Death, then, do something more than Life can do? Oh, mine Liebchen, do not fear!" The Autumn mists were rising and the stars gleamed faintly, like far-off points of pearl. At the bridge, they said good night, and Margaret went on home, wishing, even then, that she might bear the burden for Lynn. The Master went up the hill with his blood singing in his veins. Fredrika thought him unusually abstracted, but strangely happy, and until long past midnight, he sat by the window, improvising upon the Cremona a theme of such passionate beauty that the heart within her trembled and was afraid. That night Fredrika dreamed that someone had parted her from Franz, and when she woke, her pillow was wet with tears. It was not until the next afternoon that he realised that he must tell her. After long puzzling over the problem, he went to Doctor Brinkerhoff's. The Doctor was out, and did not return until almost sunset. When he came, the Master was sitting in the same uncomfortable chair that, with monumental patience, he had occupied for hours. "Mine friend," said the Master, with solemn joy, "look in mine face and tell me what you see." "What I see!" repeated the Doctor, mystified; "why, nothing but the same blundering old fellow that I have always seen." The Master laughed happily. "So? And this blundering old fellow; has nothing come to him?" "I can't imagine," said the Doctor, shaking his head. "I may be dense, but I fear you will have to tell me." "So? Then listen! Long since, perhaps, you have known of mine sorrow. Of it I have never said much, because mine old heart was sore, and because mine friend could understand without words." "Yes," replied the Doctor, eagerly, "I knew that the one you loved was taken away from you while you were both very young." "Yes. Well, look in mine face once more and tell me what you see." "You--you haven't found her!" gasped the Doctor, quite beside himself with surprise. "Precisely," the Master assured him, with his face beaming. The Doctor wrung his hand. "Franz, my old friend," he cried, "words cannot tell you how glad I am! Where--who is she?" "Mine friend," returned the Master, "it is you who are one blundering old fellow. After taking to yourself the errand of telling her that I loved her still, you did not see fit to come back to me with the news that she also cared. Thereby much time has been wrongly spent."