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What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Well, it's scarcely credible. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. I can talk with them. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. “I’ll go. It is always on his person.

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