Slow and sweet came the plaintive, penetrating sounds, that seemed to pass into his heart and thrill his every nerve.

Now they swelled louder, now they almost died away; and now, only touching the strings from time to time, she began to sing in her rich, contralto voice.

He could not understand the words, but their burden was clear enough; they were a lament, the lament of some sorrowing woman, the sweet embodiment of an ancient and forgotten grief thus embalmed in heavenly music.
It was done; the echoes of the following notes of the violin fainted and died among the carven angels of the roof.

It was done, and Morris sighed aloud.
"How can I thank you ?" he said.

"I knew that you were a musician, but not that you had such genius.