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“As my lady wills. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. Darrell. It was so hopeless to put it to them. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. I must practise what I preach. “John, don’t!” she cried.

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