Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

OLD ROSE AND SILVER

BY MYRTLE REED

Author's Note

The music which appears in the following pages is from an unpublishedpiano arrangement, by Grant Weber, of Wilson G. Smith's"Entreaty," published by G. Schirmer, New York.

I A FALLING STAR

II WELCOME HOME

III THE VOICE OF THE VIOLIN

IV THE CROSBY TWINS

V AN AFTERNOON CALL

VI THE LIGHT ON THE ALTAR

VII FATHER AND SON

VIII "THE YEAR'S AT THE SPRING"

IX A KNIGHT-ERRANT

X "SWEET-AND-TWENTY"

XI KEEPING THE FAITH

XII AN ENCHANTED HOUR

XIII WHITE GLOVES

XIV THE THIRTIETH OF JUNE

XV "HOW SHE WILL COME TO ME"

XVI HOW ISABEL CAME

XVII PENANCE

XVIII "LESS THAN THE DUST"

XIX OVER THE BAR

XX RISEN FROM THE DEAD

XXI SAVED—AND LOST

XXII A BIRTHDAY PARTY

XXIII "TEARS, IDLE TEARS"

XXIV THE HOUSE WHERE LOVE LIVED

I

A FALLING STAR

[Illustration: Musical Notation]

The last hushed chord died into silence, but the woman lingered,dreaming over the keys. Firelight from the end of the room brought red-gold gleams into the dusky softness of her hair and shadowed her profileupon the opposite wall. No answering flash of jewels met the questioninglight—there was only a mellow glow from the necklace of tourmalines,quaintly set, that lay upon the white lace of her gown.

She turned her face toward the fire as a flower seeks the sun, but herdeep eyes looked beyond it, into the fires of Life itself. A hauntingsense of unfulfilment stirred her to vague resentment, and she sighed asshe rose and moved restlessly about the room. She lighted the tallcandles that stood upon the mantel-shelf, straightened a rug, moved achair, and gathered up a handful of fallen rose-petals on her way to thewindow. She was about to draw down the shade, but, instead, her handdropped slowly to her side, her fingers unclasped, and the crushedcrimson petals fluttered to the floor.

Outside, the purple dusk of Winter twilight lay soft upon the snow.Through an opening in the evergreens the far horizon, grey as mother-of-pearl, bent down to touch the plain in a misty line that was definiteyet not clear. At the left were the mountains, cold and calm, veiled bydistances dim with frost.

There was a step upon the stair, but the strong, straight figure inwhite lace did not turn away from the window, even when the door opened.The stillness was broken only by the cheerful crackle of the fire untila sweet voice asked:

"Are you dreaming, Rose?"

Rose turned away from the window then, with a laugh. "Why, I must havebeen. Will you have this chair, Aunt Francesca?"

She turned a high-backed rocker toward the fire and Madame Bernardleaned back luxuriously, stretching her tiny feet to the blaze. She woregrey satin slippers with high French heels

...