"Not when you know the cause," replied Frank Maddox. "It was his way of disguising himself. And this brings me to Volume Two. The years pass. Once again I am in my study. There is a breath of wind among the elms in the front garden, and the sky is strewn with vaporous sprays of apple-blossom----I beg your pardon. Re-enter the hero, spruce, frock-coated, dignified. He recalls himself to my memory--but I remember him only too well. He tells me that my half-crown saved him at the turning-point of his career, that he has now achieved fame and gold, that he loves my writing more passionately than ever, and that he has come to ask me to crown his life. The whole thing is so romantic that I am about to whisper 'yes' when an instinct of common sense comes to my aid and my half-opened lips murmur instead: 'But the name you sent up--Horace Paul--it is not known to me. You say you have won fame. I, at least, have never heard of you.' "'Of course not,' he replies. 'How should you? If I were Horace Paul you would not marry me; just as I should certainly not marry you if you were Frank Maddox. But what of Paul Horace?'" "Paul Horace," cried Lillie. "The great composer!" "That is just what I exclaimed. And my hero answers: 'The composer, great or little. None but a few intimates connect me with him. The change of name is too simple. I always had a longing--call it morbid if you will--for obscurity in the midst of renown. I have weekly harvests of hair to escape any suspicion of musical attainments. But you and I, dearest--think of what our life will be enriched by our common love of the noblest of the arts. Outside, the marigolds nod to the violets, the sapphire--excuse me, I mean to say----' thus he rambled on, growing in enthusiasm with every ardent phrase, the while a deadly coldness was fastening round my heart. For I felt that it could not be." "And why?" inquired Lillie in astonishment. "It seems one of the marriages made in heaven." "I dared not tell him why; and I can only tell you on condition you promise to keep my secret." "I promise." "Listen," whispered the great critic. "I know nothing about music or art, and I was afraid he would find me out." Lillie fell back in her chair, white and trembling. Another idol shivered! "But how----?" she gasped.