One short song the young lady played in a most soulful and tender mood.

Carrie heard it through the open door from the parlour below.

It was at that hour between afternoon and night when, for the idle, the wanderer, things are apt to take on a wistful aspect.

The mind wanders forth on far journeys and returns with sheaves of withered and departed joys.

Carrie sat at her window looking out.