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. Let us walk about. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. But that brought Mrs. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. “What do you mean?” she asked. ” He took up his hat.
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