t home awhile." They looked at Paul, to see
what he would say. "Oh, I will go gladly," he said, "if I may." And
then he felt he had not spoken lovingly; so he kissed Mistress Alison,
who smiled, but somewhat sadly, and said, "Yes, Paul--I understand."

So when the meal was over, Paul's small baggage was made ready, and he
kissed Mistress Alison--and then she said to Mark with a sudden look,
"You will take care of him?" "Oh, he shall be safe with me," said
Mark, "and if he be apt and faithful, he shall learn his trade, as few
can learn it." And then Paul said his good-bye, and walked away with
Mark; and his heart was so full of gladness that he stepped out
lightly and blithely, and hardly looked back. But at the turn of the
road he stopped, while Mark seemed to consider him gravely. The three
that were to abide, Mistress Alison, and the maid, and the old
gardener, stood at the door and waved their hands; the old house
seemed to look fondly out of its windows at him, as though it had a
heart; and the very trees seemed to wave him a soft farewell. Paul
waved his hand too, and a tear came into his eyes; but he was eager to
be gone; and indeed, in his heart, he felt almost jealous of even the
gentle grasp of his home upon his heart. And so Mark and Paul set out
for the south.

II

Of the life that Paul lived with Mark I must not here tell; but
before he grew to full manhood he had learned his art well. Mark was a
strict master, but not impatient. The only thing that angered him was
carelessness or listlessness; and Paul was an apt and untiring pupil,
and learnt so easily and deftly that Mark was often astonished. "How
did you learn that?" he said one day suddenly to Paul when the boy was
practising on the lute, and played a strange soft cadence, of a kind
that Mark had never heard. The boy was startled by the question, for
he had not thought that Mark was listening to him. He looked up with a
blush and turned his eyes on Mark. "Is it not right?" he said. "I did
not learn it; it comes from somewhere in my mind."

Paul learnt to play several instruments, both wind and string.
Sometimes he loved one sort the best, sometimes the other. The wind
instruments of wood had to him a kind of soft magic, like the voice of
a gentle spirit, a spirit that dwelt in lonely unvisited places, and
communed more with things of earth than the hearts of men. In the
flutes and bassoons seemed to him to dwell the