He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. "I must have dropped it when I took out my note-book. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone. CHAPTER IX.
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