threshold Marie stumbled, and seemed about to fall, and that Jacques
lifted her in his arms as if she were a baby, and carried her into the
room. He had not seemed to notice till that moment that the child was
carrying her violin-case, though to be sure it was plain enough to see,
but as he lifted her, it struck against the door-jamb, and he glanced
down and saw it. When Abby came in (for this was to be her good-by to
them, as she was to leave that afternoon for her sister's home), De
Arthenay had the case in his hand, and was speaking in low, earnest
tones.

"You cannot have this thing, Mary! It is a thing of evil, and may not
be in a Christian household. You are going to leave all those things
behind you now, and there must be nothing to recall that life with
those bad people. I will burn the evil thing now, and it shall be a
sweet savour to the Lord, even a marriage sacrifice." As he spoke he
opened the case, and taking out the violin, laid it across his knee,
intending to break it into pieces; but at this Marie broke out into a
cry, so wild, so piercing, that he paused, and Abby ran to her and took
her in, her arms, and pressed her to her kind breast, and comforted her
as one comforts a little child. Then she turned to the stern-eyed
bridegroom.

"Jacques," she pleaded, "don't do it! don't do such a thing on your
wedding-day, if you have a heart in you. Don't you see how she feels
it? Put the fiddle away, if you don't want it round; put it up garret,
and let it lay there, till she's wonted a little to doing without it.
Take it now out of her sight and your own, Jacques De Arthenay, or
you'll be sorry for it when you have done a mischief you can't undo."

Abby wondered afterward what power had spoken in her voice; it must