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When
morning
came
,
for
the
first
time
in
many
months
the
fire
was
out
,
Jo
’
s
place
was
empty
,
and
the
room
was
very
still
.
But
a
bird
sang
blithely
on
a
budding
bough
,
close
by
,
the
snowdrops
blossomed
freshly
at
the
window
,
and
the
spring
sunshine
streamed
in
like
a
benediction
over
the
placid
face
upon
the
pillow
,
a
face
so
full
of
painless
peace
that
those
who
loved
it
best
smiled
through
their
tears
,
and
thanked
God
that
Beth
was
well
at
last
.
Amy
’
s
lecture
did
Laurie
good
,
though
,
of
course
,
he
did
not
own
it
till
long
afterward
.
Men
seldom
do
,
for
when
women
are
the
advisers
,
the
lords
of
creation
don
’
t
take
the
advice
till
they
have
persuaded
themselves
that
it
is
just
what
they
intended
to
do
.
Then
they
act
upon
it
,
and
,
if
it
succeeds
,
they
give
the
weaker
vessel
half
the
credit
of
it
.
If
it
fails
,
they
generously
give
her
the
whole
.
Laurie
went
back
to
his
grandfather
,
and
was
so
dutifully
devoted
for
several
weeks
that
the
old
gentleman
declared
the
climate
of
Nice
had
improved
him
wonderfully
,
and
he
had
better
try
it
again
.
There
was
nothing
the
young
gentleman
would
have
liked
better
,
but
elephants
could
not
have
dragged
him
back
after
the
scolding
he
had
received
.
Pride
forbid
,
and
whenever
the
longing
grew
very
strong
,
he
fortified
his
resolution
by
repeating
the
words
that
had
made
the
deepest
impression
—
"
I
despise
you
.
"
"
Go
and
do
something
splendid
that
will
make
her
love
you
.
"
Laurie
turned
the
matter
over
in
his
mind
so
often
that
he
soon
brought
himself
to
confess
that
he
had
been
selfish
and
lazy
,
but
then
when
a
man
has
a
great
sorrow
,
he
should
be
indulged
in
all
sorts
of
vagaries
till
he
has
lived
it
down
.
He
felt
that
his
blighted
affections
were
quite
dead
now
,
and
though
he
should
never
cease
to
be
a
faithful
mourner
,
there
was
no
occasion
to
wear
his
weeds
ostentatiously
.
Jo
wouldn
’
t
love
him
,
but
he
might
make
her
respect
and
admire
him
by
doing
something
which
should
prove
that
a
girl
’
s
‘
No
’
had
not
spoiled
his
life
.
He
had
always
meant
to
do
something
,
and
Amy
’
s
advice
was
quite
unnecessary
.
He
had
only
been
waiting
till
the
aforesaid
blighted
affections
were
decently
interred
.
That
being
done
,
he
felt
that
he
was
ready
to
‘
hide
his
stricken
heart
,
and
still
toil
on
’
.
As
Goethe
,
when
he
had
a
joy
or
a
grief
,
put
it
into
a
song
,
so
Laurie
resolved
to
embalm
his
love
sorrow
in
music
,
and
to
compose
a
Requiem
which
should
harrow
up
Jo
’
s
soul
and
melt
the
heart
of
every
hearer
.
Therefore
the
next
time
the
old
gentleman
found
him
getting
restless
and
moody
and
ordered
him
off
,
he
went
to
Vienna
,
where
he
had
musical
friends
,
and
fell
to
work
with
the
firm
determination
to
distinguish
himself
.
But
whether
the
sorrow
was
too
vast
to
be
embodied
in
music
,
or
music
too
ethereal
to
uplift
a
mortal
woe
,
he
soon
discovered
that
the
Requiem
was
beyond
him
just
at
present
.
It
was
evident
that
his
mind
was
not
in
working
order
yet
,
and
his
ideas
needed
clarifying
,
for
often
in
the
middle
of
a
plaintive
strain
,
he
would
find
himself
humming
a
dancing
tune
that
vividly
recalled
the
Christmas
ball
at
Nice
,
especially
the
stout
Frenchman
,
and
put
an
effectual
stop
to
tragic
composition
for
the
time
being
.
Then
he
tried
an
opera
,
for
nothing
seemed
impossible
in
the
beginning
,
but
here
again
unforeseen
difficulties
beset
him
.
He
wanted
Jo
for
his
heroine
,
and
called
upon
his
memory
to
supply
him
with
tender
recollections
and
romantic
visions
of
his
love
.
But
memory
turned
traitor
,
and
as
if
possessed
by
the
perverse
spirit
of
the
girl
,
would
only
recall
Jo
’
s
oddities
,
faults
,
and
freaks
,
would
only
show
her
in
the
most
unsentimental
aspects
—
beating
mats
with
her
head
tied
up
in
a
bandanna
,
barricading
herself
with
the
sofa
pillow
,
or
throwing
cold
water
over
his
passion
a
la
Gummidge
—
and
an
irresistable
laugh
spoiled
the
pensive
picture
he
was
endeavoring
to
paint
.
Jo
wouldn
’
t
be
put
into
the
opera
at
any
price
,
and
he
had
to
give
her
up
with
a
"
Bless
that
girl
,
what
a
torment
she
is
!
"
and
a
clutch
at
his
hair
,
as
became
a
distracted
composer
.
When
he
looked
about
him
for
another
and
a
less
intractable
damsel
to
immortalize
in
melody
,
memory
produced
one
with
the
most
obliging
readiness
.
This
phantom
wore
many
faces
,
but
it
always
had
golden
hair
,
was
enveloped
in
a
diaphanous
cloud
,
and
floated
airily
before
his
mind
’
s
eye
in
a
pleasing
chaos
of
roses
,
peacocks
,
white
ponies
,
and
blue
ribbons
.
He
did
not
give
the
complacent
wraith
any
name
,
but
he
took
her
for
his
heroine
and
grew
quite
fond
of
her
,
as
well
he
might
,
for
he
gifted
her
with
every
gift
and
grace
under
the
sun
,
and
escorted
her
,
unscathed
,
through
trials
which
would
have
annihilated
any
mortal
woman
.
Thanks
to
this
inspiration
,
he
got
on
swimmingly
for
a
time
,
but
gradually
the
work
lost
its
charm
,
and
he
forgot
to
compose
,
while
he
sat
musing
,
pen
in
hand
,
or
roamed
about
the
gay
city
to
get
some
new
ideas
and
refresh
his
mind
,
which
seemed
to
be
in
a
somewhat
unsettled
state
that
winter
.
He
did
not
do
much
,
but
he
thought
a
great
deal
and
was
conscious
of
a
change
of
some
sort
going
on
in
spite
of
himself
.
"
It
’
s
genius
simmering
,
perhaps
.
I
’
ll
let
it
simmer
,
and
see
what
comes
of
it
,
"
he
said
,
with
a
secret
suspicion
all
the
while
that
it
wasn
’
t
genius
,
but
something
far
more
common
.
Whatever
it
was
,
it
simmered
to
some
purpose
,
for
he
grew
more
and
more
discontented
with
his
desultory
life
,
began
to
long
for
some
real
and
earnest
work
to
go
at
,
soul
and
body
,
and
finally
came
to
the
wise
conclusion
that
everyone
who
loved
music
was
not
a
composer
.
Returning
from
one
of
Mozart
’
s
grand
operas
,
splendidly
performed
at
the
Royal
Theatre
,
he
looked
over
his
own
,
played
a
few
of
the
best
parts
,
sat
staring
at
the
busts
of
Mendelssohn
,
Beethoven
,
and
Bach
,
who
stared
benignly
back
again
.
Then
suddenly
he
tore
up
his
music
sheets
,
one
by
one
,
and
as
the
last
fluttered
out
of
his
hand
,
he
said
soberly
to
himself
.
.
.
