must be no music here,
among Christian folks. Put away that thing, young woman. It is an
evil thing, bringing sin, and death, which is the wages of sin, with
it. How came you here, if you have no one belonging to you?"

Falteringly, her sweet eyes dropped on the ground, with only now and
then a timid, appealing glance at this terrible person, this awful
judge who had suddenly dropped from the skies, Marie told her little
story, or as much of it as she thought needful. She had been with bad
people, playing for them, a long time, she did not know how long. And
then they would take away her violin, and she would not stay, and she
ran away from them, and had walked all day, and--and that was all. A
little sob shook her voice at the last words; she had not realised
before how utterly alone she was. The delight of freedom, of getting
away from her tyrants, had been enough at first, and she had been as it
were on wings all day, like a bird let loose from its cage; now the
little bird was weary, and the wings drooped, and there was no nest,
not even a friendly cage where one would find food and drink,

A sudden passion of pity--he supposed it was pity--shook the strong
man. He felt a wild impulse to catch the little shrinking creature in
his arms and bear her away to his own home, to warm and cheer and
comfort her. Was there ever before anything in the world so sweet, so
helpless, so forlorn? He looked around. The children were all gone;
he stood alone in the street with the foreign woman, and night was
falling. It was at this moment that Abby Rock, who had been watching
from her window for the past few minutes, opened her door and came out,
stepping quietly toward them, as if they were just the people she had
expected to see. De Arthenay hailed her as an angel from Heaven; and
yet Abby did not look like an angel.

"Abby!" he cried. "Come here a minute, will you?"

"Good evening, Jacques!" said Abby, in her quiet voice. "Good evening
to you!" she added, speaking kindly to the little stranger. "I was
coming to see if you wouldn't like to step into my house and rest you a
spell. Why, my heart!" she cried, as Marie raised her head at the
sound of the friendly voice, "you're nothing but a child. Come right
along with me, my dear. Alone, are ye, and night coming on!"

"That's right, Abby!" cried De Arthenay, with feverish eagerness.
"Yes, yes, take her home with you and make her comfortable. She is a
strange