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 fingers
for playing. I knew that. He had great hopes of me. He said he would
give me a box at the Opera, now and then. I was mad with joy; and so
delighted to have made a friend. I had never before made a rich friend.
I sang to him in the park. His eyes looked beautiful with pleasure. I
know I enchanted him."

"How old were you then?" inquired Wilfrid.

"Sixteen. I can sing better now, I know; but I had voice then, and he
felt that I had. I forgot where we were, till people stood round us, and
he hurried me away from them, and said I must sing to him in some quiet
place. I promised to, and he promised he would have dinner for me at
Richmond Hill, in the country, and he would bring friends to hear me."

"Go on," said Wilfrid, rather sharply.

She sighed. "I only saw him once after that. It was such a miserable
day! It rained. It was Saturday. I did not expect to find him in
the rain; but there he stood, exactly where he had given me the
handkerchief. He smiled kindly, as I came up. I dislike gloomy people!
His face was always fresh and nice. His moustache reminded me of
Italy. I used to think of him under a great warm sky, with olives and
vine-trees and mulberries like my father used to speak of. I could have
flung my arms about his neck."

"Did you?" The cornet gave a strangled note.

"Oh, no!" said Emilia seriously. "But I told him how happy the thought
of going into the country made me, and that it was almost like going to
Italy. He told me he would take me to Italy, if I liked. I could have
knelt at his feet. Unfortunat