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Carl Wagner's good wife was dying. His heart bled at the thought of losing her, his life-long loyal helpmate. And his opera was almost completed, after spending months of weary hours to make it perfect. A pretty daughter tried in vain to brighten the overhanging gloom. Finally the composer, after a superhuman effort, and with a soul filled with sorrow, finished the last act of his score and hurried away to the impresario for a hearing. Here he was assured of an immediate reading and the return to his humble tenement was made with a much lighter heart. The doctor paid another visit to his patient and left a prescription to be filled. Carl reached home and realized how much depended upon the medicine ordered to possibly save a life most dear. Taking his cherished violin, the only article of value remaining, he rushed off to the pawnbroker and negotiated a loan.