And it might have happened nigh a score of years ago; nigh a score of years lost from the span of human life--all for want of a little money.
'I will say good-bye to you here,' muttered Everard to his friend at the church door.
The married man gripped him by the arm.
'You will do nothing of the kind .-- Fanny, he wants to be off at once!--You won't go until you have heard my wife play something on that blessed instrument.' So all entered a cab again and drove back to the house.

A servant who had come with Fanny from the country, a girl of fifteen, opened the door to them, smiling and curtseying.

And all sat together in happy talk, the blind woman gayest among them; she wished to have the clergyman described to her, and the appearance of the church.

Then Mrs.
Micklethwaite placed herself at the piano, and played simple, old-fashioned music, neither well nor badly, but to the infinite delight of two of her hearers.
'Mr.Barfoot,' said the sister at length, 'I have known your name for a long time, but I little thought to meet you on such a day as this, and to owe you such endless thanks.

So long as I can have music I forget that I can't see.
'Barfoot is the finest fellow on earth,' exclaimed Micklethwaite.