"Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. " "The pianist?" "Yes. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. Wood's. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest.
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