"It was lovely of you," she went on, choking back a sob, "to come and play for us. We appreciated it--Mrs. Irving and I--Doctor Brinkerhoff--and--Lynn," she added, grudgingly. "The Herr Irving," said the Master, with interest, "he has appreciated mine playing?" "Of course--we all did." "Mine pupil progresses," he remarked, enigmatically. "Was it," began Iris, hesitating over the words,--"was it the Cremona?" The Master looked at her sharply. "Yes, why not? One gives one's best to Death." "Death demands it, and takes it," said the girl. "That is why." She spoke bitterly, and Herr Kaufmann put down the violin he was working upon. His heart went out to Iris, white-faced and ghostly, her eyes burning fiercely. He saw that her hands were trembling, and, moving his chair closer, he took them both in his. "Little lady," he said, "it makes mine old heart ache to see you so close with sorrow. If it could be divided, I would take mine share, because these broad shoulders are used to one heavy burden, and a little more would not matter so much, but one must learn, even though the cross is very hard to bear. "It is most difficult, and yet some day you will see. You have only to look out of your window for one year to understand it all. First it is Winter, and the snow is deep upon the ground. All the flowers are dead, and there are no birds. The moon shines cold, and there are many storms. But, so slow that you can never see it, there is change. Presently, the bare branches turn in their sleep and wake up with leaves. The birds come back, and all the earth is glad again. "Then everything grows and it is all in one blossom. On the wide fields there is much grain, and all hearts are singing. Even after the frost, everything is glad for a little while, and then, very slowly, it is Winter once more. "Little lady, do you not see? There must always be Winter, there must always be night and storm and cold. It is then that the flowers rest--they cannot always be in bloom. But somewhere on the great world the sun is always shining, and, just so sure as you live, it will sometime shine on you. The dear God has made it so. There is so much sun and so much storm, and we must have our share of both. It is Winter in your heart now, but soon it will be Spring. You have had one long Summer, and there must be something in between. We are not different from all else the dear God has made. It is all in one law, as the Herr Doctor will tell you. He is most wise, and he has helped me to understand." "But Aunt Peace!" sobbed the girl. "Aunt Peace is dead, and mother, too! I am all alone!"