oved me the moment we first met. Then I did
not understand what that meant to you, now I do."

He drew her gently to him, and the motive of their happiness was
defined in sweet confessions: "My love, my life--My life, my love."

The magic of his music had changed her very being, the breath of love
was in her soul, the vision of love was dancing in her eyes. The child
of marble, like the statue of old, had come to life:

"_And not long since
I was a cold, dull stone! I recollect
That by some means I knew that I was stone;
That was the first dull gleam of consciousness;
I became conscious of a chilly self,
A cold, immovable identity.
I knew that I was stone, and knew no more!
Then, by an imperceptible advance,
Came the dim evidence of outer things,
Seen--darkly and imperfectly--yet seen
The walls surrounding me, and I, alone.
That pedestal--that curtain--then a voice
That called on Galatea! At that word,
Which seemed to shake my marble to the core,
That which was dim before, came evident.
Sounds, that had hummed around me, indistinct,
Vague, meaningless--seemed to resolve themselves
Into a language I could understand;
I felt my frame pervaded by a glow
That seemed to thaw my marble into flesh;
Its cold, hard substance throbbed with active life,
My limbs grew supple, and I moved--I lived!
Lived in the ecstasy of a new-born life!
Lived in the love of him that fashioned me!
Lived in a thousand tangled thoughts of hope._"

Day after day he came; they told their love, their hopes, their
ambitions. She assumed absolute proprietorship in him. She gloried in
her possession.

He was born into the world, nurtured in infancy, trained in childhood
and matured into manhood, for one express purpose--to be hers alone.
Her ownership ranged from absolute despotism to humble slavery, and he
was happy through it all.

One day she said: "Angelo, is it your purpose to follow your
profession always?"

"Necessarily, it is my livelihood," he replied.

"But do you not think that after we stand at the altar, we never
should be separated?"

"We will be together always," said he, holding her face between his
palms, and looking with tender expression into her inquiring eyes.

"But I notice that women cluster around you after your concerts--and
shake your hand longer than they should--and talk to you longer than
they should--and go away looking self-satisfied!" she repl