The Doctor grew hot and cold by turns. "You don't mean--" he cried. "Not--not Mrs. Irving!" "Who else?" asked the Master, serenely. "In all the world is she not the most lovely lady? Who that has seen her does not love her, and why not I?" Doctor Brinkerhoff sank into a chair, very much excited. "It is one astonishment also to me," the Master went on. "I cannot believe that the dear God has been so good, and I must always be pinching mineself to be sure that I do not sleep. It is most wonderful." "It is, indeed," the Doctor returned. "But see how it has happened. Only now can I understand. In the beginning, mine heart is very hurt, but out of mine hurt there comes the power to make mineself one great artist. It was mine Cremona that made the parting, because I am so foolish that I must go in her house to look at it. It was mine Cremona that took her to me the last time, when she gave it to me. 'Franz,' she says, 'if you take this, you will not forget me, and it is mine to do with what I please.' "So, when I have made mineself the great artist, I have played on mine Cremona to many thousands, and the tears have come from all. See, it is always mine Cremona. And because of this, she has heard of me afar off, and she has chosen to have mine son learn the violin from me, so that he also shall be one artist. Twice she has heard me and mine Cremona when we make the music together; once in the street outside mine house, and once when I played the _Ave Maria_ in her house when the old lady was dead." Doctor Brinkerhoff turned away, his muscles suddenly rigid, but the Master talked on, heedlessly. "See, it is always mine Cremona, and the dear God has made us in the same way. He has made mine violin out of the pain, the cutting, and the long night, and also me, so that I shall be suited to touch it. It is so that I am to her as mine Cremona is to me--I am her instrument, and she can do with me what she will. "It is but the one string now that needs the tuning," went on the Master, deeply troubled. "I know not what to do with mine Fredrika." "Fredrika!" repeated Doctor Brinkerhoff. He, too, had forgotten the faithful Fraeulein. "The bright colours are not for mine Liebchen," the Master continued. "The bright colours," said the Doctor, by some curious trick of mind immediately upon the defensive, "why, I have always thought them very pretty." A great light broke in upon the Master, and he could not be expected to perceive that it was only a will o' the wisp. "So," he cried, triumphantly, "you have loved mine sister! I have sometimes thought so, and now I know!" The Doctor's face turned a dull red, his eyelids drooped, and he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.