at noon for the short interval before the time for her
sewing lessons, there was no need to caution her against noise; for the
child moved ever less and less like a living being, and grew more like a
shadow day by day.

Yet by nature she was a lively little maiden, and took so keen an interest
in all about her, that her father often used joyfully to observe it,
saying,

"That child is exactly like her dear mother; just the same movements, the
same indomitable spirit and enjoyment of life!"

But now all this vivacity seemed extinguished. Dora was very careful never
to provoke her aunt to complaints, which she dreaded exceedingly. Yet for
all her pains it would happen sometimes, most unexpectedly and when she
was least looking for a storm, that one would break over her head, and
frighten all her thoughts and words back into her childish heart; nay,
almost check the flow of youth in her veins.

One evening, she came home from her work filled with enthusiasm, by a song
she had been listening to, played by her unseen musician. Dora knew the
words well:

"Live your life merrily
While the lamp glows,
Ere it can fade and die,
Gather the rose."

Dora had often sung this song, but she had never dreamed that it could be
played on the piano, and it sounded so beautiful, so wonderful to her,
that she said to her aunt, as she entered the dining-room,

"Oh, Aunt Ninette, how delightful it must be to know how to play on the
piano! Do you think that I can ever learn it in my life?"

"Oh, in heaven's name, how can you ask me such a thing? How can you worry
me so? How could you do anything of the kind in our house? Think of the
terrible din that a piano makes! And where would the money come from if
you could find the time? Oh, Dora, where did you get hold of that
unfortunate idea? I should think I had enough to worry me already, without
your asking me such a thing as this into the bargain."

Dora hastened to assure her aunt that she had no intention of asking for
any thing, and the storm blew over. But never again did she dare even to
speak of music, no matter how eagerly she had listened to the piano,
during her long sewing lessons.

Every evening after Dora had learned all her lessons for school, while her
aunt in utter silence knitted or nodded, the child climbed up to her
little attic room; and before she closed her tiny window, she leaned out
into the night to see whether the stars were shining, a