It was so simple a matter for him to say, and yet it filled us all with an unspeakable joy.

We concealed our emotion till he had left the room to get his instrument, then Constance showed how deeply she was gratified by kissing first her mother and then me, squeezing my hand but saying nothing.

In a minute he returned, bringing his violin and a music-book.
By the soiled vellum cover and the shape I perceived instantly that it was the book containing the "Areopagita." I had not seen it for near two years, and was not even aware that it was in the house, but I knew at once that he intended to play that suite.

I entertained an unreasoning but profound aversion to its melodies, but at that moment I would have welcomed warmly that or any other music, so that he would only choose once more to show some thought for his neglected wife.

He put the book open at the "Areopagita" on the desk of the pianoforte, and asked her to play it with him.