"One minute," he said; and returned in two or three with a pint of tolerable champagne.

"I keep a few for angel's visits," he explained; "but I am afraid I must light the candle.

I will put it at the other side of the room.

Do you mind the tumbler?
Now drink, and tell me only what you feel inclined, neither more nor less." "It is all written down," began Severino, in better voice for the first few drams: "how I first heard her singing through the open windows in the summer--only last summer!--how she heard me playing, and how afterwards we came to meet.

She was unhappy; he was a bad husband; but I only saw it for myself.