ty of overwork, at least. I lost everything in a
moment. That was penalty, perhaps, for having risked everything. I have
only recently been getting back a little: no, getting _back_
nothing,--but some new life, out of a new world, I think. A different
world from what I ever thought to inhabit. New to me as the earth was to
Noah after the Flood. He couldn't turn a spade but he laid open graves,
nor pull a flower but it broke his heart. I should never have been in
the church-choir but for you. Of that I am satisfied. When you came and
asked me, you saw, perhaps, that I was excited more than so slight a
matter warranted. It was, indeed, a simple enough request. Not
surprising that you should discover, one way or another, I could sing.
And there was need enough of a singer with such an organist. But you
never could guess what I went through after I had promised, till the
Sunday came. You remember how astonished you were when I came into the
choir. I was afraid you were going to excuse me from my part. But you at
least understood something of it; you did not even ask if I were not
ill. It seems a long time since then."

A little to the organist's surprise, it was into a broad and handsome
street that Sybella now led the way, and before the door of a very
handsome house she stopped.

"Will you not come in and discover where I live, and how? It will be too
late in a moment for you to go back alone. I shall find somebody to
attend you."

"In the ten months I have played the organ of St. Peter's Church I have
not entered another person's dwelling than my own. I set aside a purpose
that must still be rigidly held, for you. Possibly you may incur some
danger in receiving me."

"Come in," said Sybella; and she led the way into the house. For one
instant she had looked her surprise at Miss Edgar's last words, but not
for half an instant did she look the hesitation such words might have
occasioned.

The house into which they passed did not, in truth, look like one to
suffer in. Walls lined with pictures, ceilings hung with costly
chandeliers, floors covered with softest, finest carpets of most
brilliant patterns, this seemed like a place for enjoyment, designed by
happy hearts. It was: all this wealth, and elaboration of its
evidences,--this covering of what might have looked like display by the
careful veil of taste. But the house was the home of orphaned
children,--of this girl, and three brothers, who were united in their
l