te miserable, I
think, for he loves streets best. Guess my surprise! My mother was making
my head ache with her complaints, when, as I drew out the potatoes to
show her we had some food, there was a purse at the bottom of my
pocket,--a beautiful green purse! O that kind gentleman! He must have put
it in my hand with the potatoes that my father flung at him! How I have
cried to think that I may never sing to him my best to please him! My
mother and I opened the purse eagerly. It had ten pounds in paper money,
and five sovereigns, and silver,--I think four shillings. We determined
to keep it a secret; and then we thought of the best way of spending it,
and decided not to spend it all, but to keep some for when we wanted it
dreadfully, and for a lesson or two for me now and then, and a
music-score, and perhaps a good violin for my father, and new strings for
him and me, and meat dinners now and then, and perhaps a day in the
country: for that was always one of my dreams as I watched the clouds
flying over London. They seemed to be always coming from happy places and
going to happy places, never stopping where I was! I cannot be sorrowful
long. You know that song of mine that you like so much--my own composing?
It was a song about that kind gentleman. I got words to suit it as well
as I could, from a penny paper, but they don't mean anything that I mean,
and they are only words."

She did not appear to hear the gallant cornet's denial that he cared
particularly for that song.

"What I meant was,--that gentleman speaks--I have fought for Italy; I am
an English hero and have fought for Italy, because of an Italian child;
but now I am wounded and a prisoner. When you shoot me, cruel Austrians,
I shall hear her voice and think of nothing else, so you cannot hurt me."

Emilia turned spitefully on herself at this close. "How I spoil it! My
words are always stupid, when I feel.--Well, now my mother and I were
quite peaceful, and my father was better fed. One night he brought home a
Jew gentleman, beautifully dressed, with diamonds all over him. He
sparkled like the Christmas cakes in pastry-cooks" windows. I sang to
him, and he made quite a noise about me. But the man made me so
uncomfortable, touching my shoulders, and I could not bear his hands,
even when he was praising me. I sang to him till the landlady made me
leave off, because of the other lodgers who wanted to sleep. He came
every evening; and then said I should sing at