Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. I don’t know what has come over me. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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