thou modest hypocrite! to those who already and
deeply love,--what, then, of danger and of paradise dost thou bring?

Silent, and stilling the breath which heaved in both quick and fitfully,
Lucy and Clifford sat together. The streets were utterly deserted; and
the loneliness, as they looked below, made them feel the more intensely
not only the emotions which swelled within them, but the undefined and
electric sympathy which, in uniting them, divided them from the world.
The quiet around was broken by a distant strain of rude music; and as it
came nearer, two forms of no poetical order grew visible. The one was
a poor blind man, who was drawing from his flute tones in which the
melancholy beauty of the air compensated for any deficiency (the
deficiency was but slight) in the execution. A woman much younger
than the musician, and with something of beauty in her countenance,
accompanied him, holding a tattered hat, and looking wistfully up at the
windows of the silent street. We said two forms; we did the injustice of
forgetfulness to another,--a rugged and simple friend, it is true, but
one that both minstrel and wife had many and moving reasons to love.
This was a little wiry terrier, with dark piercing eyes, that glanced
quickly and sagaciously in all quarters from beneath the shaggy covert
that surrounded them. Slowly the animal moved onward, pulling gently
against the string by which he was held, and by which he guided his
master. Once his fidelity was tempted: another dog invited him to
play; the poor terrier looked anxiously and doubtingly round, and then,
uttering a low growl of denial, pursued--

"The noiseless tenour of his way."

The little procession stopped beneath the window where Lucy and Clifford
sat; for the quick eye of the woman had perceived them, and she laid her
hand on the blind man's arm, and whispered him. He took the hint, and
changed his air into one of love. Clifford glanced at Lucy; her cheek
was dyed in blushes. The air was over; another succeeded,--it was of the
same kind; a third,--the burden was still unaltered; and then Clifford
threw into the street a piece of money, and the dog wagged his abridged
and dwarfed tail, and darting forward, picked it up in his mouth; and
the woman (she had a kind face!) patted the officious friend, even
before she thanked the donor, and then she dropped the money with
a cheering word or two into the blind man's pocket, and the three
wan