Year: 1859

often Judge people by their voice be-
fore see them, and pictured the lady
to myself quite correctly. There was
. ring in her words, q lark-like tone,
that gave me the idea of happy spiri,
and perfect health. Now and then the
voice deepened and softened, and deep
ened, and l knew that her face had lost
it's smile and that she was looking grave
perhaps sad. So ! knew that she had
suffered, and as day after day went on,
and the voice grew familiar, l judged
that she had suffered deeply. There
was something behind that natural
gaiety, known only to herself and God,
it may he, and yet it threw a gloom over
her whole life, and would always do so.
And | thought should like to see her,
and judge if my surmises we're cor
rect.


l asked the landlord about the party
He looked at the book, aud read the
names, Rev. Edward Williams and lady,
Mrs. Arnold, New York city,


'They are Americans, then?' lex.
claimed.


SO it seems. They came here three
weeks ago by the packet and are going
to Paris next month. Very nice peo.
pie they seem, but they have queer
ways. All Americans have, I am often
told.'


'Yes-they seem odd to us no doubt,
l said, musingly-scarcely knowing
what had answered. And then went
up to my room. and wondered if Mrs.
Arnold was widow, or if her husband
was still living. If SO, 1 felt strongly
inclined to strangle or shoot him, with.
out any delay. 1t is very ridiculous
YET also, quite sincere-the feeling one
man has towards another who (as he
thinks) has robbed him of something
which may have beautificd his own life.
am sure many married woman would
laugh heartily if she but knew the fan.
cies that pass through the brain of one
OF her bachelor friends, who admires
her, as he sees her with child in her
arms or her sweet face looking over her
husbands shoulder (stupid man } as
he pores over dry newspaper, quite
unconscious of her presence.


l was not, by any means. the only
dweller in the eyrie. People were
coming and going all the time, but
scarcelysever saw them, or heard their
names. The sitting room next to mine
on the second floor: would be tenanted
one month, by couple with an indef
mite number of children; and the next
it may be by an old gentleman, who
made no noise. and rarely spoke, excep'
to tell his servant to bring more wine
then would come travelling artist, with
his sketch-books and his great New
Is IIeundh.ad dog, and they would play al
work, till the house shook, and the ner.
vous lady above nearly went into fits
and he would be succeec!ed by musi
clan, who would play all day and a par,
of the night, till the same lady declared
she should be ready for Bedlam but she
never was ready, and never went--at
least, to my knowledge. When the
children were there and playing SO nois-
lily that l could not think, l used TO Law
down my pen and wonder what their
names were and how they looked, and
if they were playing the same games
played in my boyhood $50 many years
ago !! with my brothers and cousins
The great dog used to meet me in the
passage and give me friendly wag OF
the tail, if l patted his head, and after
that his bark was music in my ears for
| defy any one. who has heart to make
the acquaintance ofa dog-a Newfound-
land especially-and not love him
And the composer, who played all day
the sweet creations of his soul-God
knows what loving, tender fancies came
to me now and then, as the melody wove
itself in with what was writing almost
before I knew it. am happy fellow
naturally, and disposed to make the best
OF everything; but setting this entirely
aside, l am sure was better and a
kinder man for the neigbbors l had.


While l sat thinking thus of Mr.. Ar
mold. Mrs. Arnold, in the next room,
began 70 sing. There was good piano
in No. AZ, and I had often heard her
playing before. But this evening she
only seemed recalling snatches Of sweet,
sad songs. and felt sure she was alone.
Her touch upon the keys was soft and
dreamy: sometimes she was playing
with one hand and then would come a
long pause, though ! had not heard her
leave he scat. i would have given
worlds to have been beside her in that
hour of twilight. But it faded. and the
cold wall of my room was still between
US. heard her singing, "Then you'll
remember me-" very softly, and then
the music ceased. If had sat by N.Y.
self any more am sure should have
been mad enough to go into the next
room and taking up my hat and gloves.
l went out for walk. The door Of No.
AZ stood halfway open, and from my
end of the passage could see into the
room plainly, for the boy had just lit
the gas, and drawn the curtains. She
was standing over the piano, dressed in
deep mourning. though wedding ring
and its heavy guard shone on her left
hand. THANK heaven! the fellow is
dead" T" | thought; and then the next
mement ! laughed at my absurdity.-
She had the evening paper in her hand,
yet, though her head was bent l could
see her face quite we'll. In only one
thing was she different from her eoun-
terpart in my brain-she was not beau
lifal, as ! had fanced she must be. She
was tall and straight. and elegant in
form and her face was one of those
which change with every shade of feel
ing; but only redeemed from plainness
by pair of deep set and beautifully
shaped eyes, whose color. / found. when