ear of
something unknown, which seemed to be growing out of the silence.
Sometimes Abby thought the best thing to do would be to open the door
of the cage, and let the little stray bird flutter out, as she had
fluttered in those few days ago, by chance--was it by chance?

But the bird was so willing to stay; was so happy, except when that
silent shadow fell upon the cheerful house; so sweet, so grateful for
little kindnesses (and who would not be kind to her, Abby thought!);
such a singing, light, pretty creature to look at and listen to! and
the house had been so quiet since mother died; and after all, it was
pleasant to have some one to do for and "putter round." The neighbours
said, There! now Abby Rock was safe to live, for she had got another
baby to take care of; she'd ha' withered up and blown away if she had
gone on living alone, with no one to make of.

And what talks they had, Abby and Marie! The latter told all about her
early childhood with the good old woman whom she called Mere Jeanne,
and explained how she came to have the Lady, and to play as she did.
The Countess, it appeared, lived up at the castle; a great lady, oh,
but very great, and beautiful as the angels. She was alone there, for
the Count was away on a foreign mission, and she had no child, the
Countess. So one day she saw Marie, when the latter was bringing
flowers to the gardener's wife, who was good to her; and the Countess
called the child to her, and took her on her knee, and talked with her.
Ah, she was good, the Countess, and lovely! After that Marie was
brought to the castle every day, and the Countess played to her of the
violin, and Marie knew all at once that this was the best thing in the
world, and the dearest, and the one to die for, you understand. (But
Abby did not understand in the least.) So when Madame the Countess saw
how it was, she taught Marie, and got her the Lady, the violin which
was Marie's life and soul; and she let come down from Paris a great
teacher, and they all played together, the Countess his friend, for
many years his pupil, and the great violinist, and Marie, the little
peasant girl in her blue gown and cap. He said she was a born
musician, Marie: of course, he was able to see things, being of the
same nature; but Mere Jeanne was unhappy, and said no good would come
of it. Yes, well, what is to be, you know, that will be, and nossing
else. The great teacher died, and there was an end of him. And a