n tore up the whole sheet in a rage, when I showed it him; but he
gave me a dinner, and left off charging me ten shillings--only seven, and
then five--and he gave me more time than he gave others. He also did
something which I don't know yet whether I can thank him for. He made me
know the music of the great German. I used to listen: I could not believe
such music could come from a German. He followed me about, telling me I
was his slave. For some time I could not sleep. I laughed at myself for
composing. He was not an Austrian: but when he was alive he lived in
Vienna, the capital of Austria. He ate Austrian bread, and why God gave
him such a soul of music I never can think!--Well, by-and-by my father
wanted to know what I did in the day, and why they never had anything but
potatoes for dinner. My mother came to me, and I told her to say, I took
walks. My father said I was an idle girl, and like my mother--who was a
slave to work. People are often unjust! So my father said he would watch
me. I had to cross the park to give a lesson to a lady who had a husband,
and she wanted to sing to him to keep him at home in the evening. I used
to pray he might not have much ear for music. One day a gentleman came
behind me in the park. He showed me a handkerchief, and asked me if it
was mine. I felt for my own and found it in my pocket. He was certain I
had dropped it. He looked in the corners for the name, I told him my
name--Emilia Alessandra Belloni. He found A.F.G. there. It was a
beautiful cambric handkerchief, white and smooth. I told him it must be a
gentleman's, as it was so large; but he said he had picked it up close by
me, and he could not take it, and I must; and I was obliged to keep it,
though I would much rather not. Near the end of the park he left me."

At this point Wilfrid roused up. "You met him the next day near the same
place?" he remarked.

She turned to him with astonishment on her features. "How did you know
that? How could you know?"

"Sort of thing that generally happens," said Wilfrid.

"Yes; he was there," Emilia slowly pursued, controlling her inclination
to question further. "He had forgotten about the handkerchief, for when I
saw him, I fancied he might have found the owner. We talked together. He
told me he was in the Army, and I spoke of my father's playing and my
singing. He was so fond of music that I promised him he should hear us
both. He used to examine my hand, and said they were sensitive