into its usual tone, tried even to speak gently, though his heart was
beating so wildly at the way she looked, at the sweet notes of her
voice, like a flute in its lower notes, that he could hardly hear his
own words. "No, no music!" he said. "There must be no music here,
among Christian folks. Put away that thing, young woman. It is an
evil thing, bringing sin, and death, which is the wages of sin, with
it. How came you here, if you have no one belonging to you?"

Falteringly, her sweet eyes dropped on the ground, with only now and
then a timid, appealing glance at this terrible person, this awful
judge who had suddenly dropped from the skies, Marie told her little
story, or as much of it as she thought needful. She had been with bad
people, playing for them, a long time, she did not know how long. And
then they would take away her violin, and she would not stay, and she
ran away from them, and had walked all day, and--and that was all. A
little sob shook her voice at the last words; she had not realised
before how utterly alone she was. The delight of freedom, of getting
away from her tyrants, had been enough at first, and she had been as it
were on wings all day, like a bird let loose from its cage; now the
little bird was weary, and the wings drooped, and there was no nest,
not even a friendly cage where one would find food and drink,

A sudden passion of pity--he supposed it was pity--shook the strong
man. He felt a wild impulse to catch the little shrinking creature in
his arms and bear her away to his own home, to warm and cheer and
comfort her. Was there ever before anything in the world so sweet, so
helpless, so forlorn? He looked around. The children were all gone;
he stood alone in the street with the foreign woman, and night was
falling. It was at this moment that Abby Rock, who had been watching
from her window for the past few minutes, opened her door and came out,