regarding her, but I plead that in the mind of Robert the proceeding
was involved in something of that awe and mystery with which a youth
approaches the woman he loves. He had not yet arrived at the period
when the feminine assumes its paramount influence, combining in
itself all that music, colour, form, odour, can suggest, with
something infinitely higher and more divine; but he had begun to be
haunted with some vague aspirations towards the infinite, of which
his attempts on the violin were the outcome. And now that he was to
be alone, for the first time, with this wonderful realizer of dreams
and awakener of visions, to do with her as he would, to hint by
gentle touches at the thoughts that were fluttering in his soul, and
listen for her voice that by the echoes in which she strove to
respond he might know that she understood him, it was no wonder if
he felt an ethereal foretaste of the expectation that haunts the
approach of souls.

But I am not even going to describe his first tête-à-tête with his
violin. Perhaps he returned from it somewhat disappointed.
Probably he found her coy, unready to acknowledge his demands on
her attention. But not the less willingly did he return with her to
the solitude of the ruinous factory. On every safe occasion,
becoming more and more frequent as the days grew longer, he repaired
thither, and every time returned more capable of drawing the
coherence of melody from that matrix of sweet sounds.

At length the people about began to say that the factory was
haunted; that the ghost of old Mr. Falconer, unable to repose while
neglect was ruining the precious results of his industry, visited
the place night after night, and solaced his disappointment by
renewing on his favourite violin strains not yet forgotten by him in