And now that he was to be alone, for the first time, with this wonderful realizer of dreams and awakener of visions, to do with her as he would, to hint by gentle touches at the thoughts that were fluttering in his soul, and listen for her voice that by the echoes in which she strove to respond he might know that she understood him, it was no wonder if he felt an ethereal foretaste of the expectation that haunts the approach of souls.
But I am not even going to describe his first tete-a-tete with his violin.

Perhaps he returned from it somewhat disappointed.

Probably he found her coy, unready to acknowledge his demands on her attention.

But not the less willingly did he return with her to the solitude of the ruinous factory.

On every safe occasion, becoming more and more frequent as the days grew longer, he repaired thither, and every time returned more capable of drawing the coherence of melody from that matrix of sweet sounds.
At length the people about began to say that the factory was haunted; that the ghost of old Mr.Falconer, unable to repose while neglect was ruining the precious results of his industry, visited the place night after night, and solaced his disappointment by renewing on his favourite violin strains not yet forgotten by him in his grave, and remembered well by those who had been in his service, not a few of whom lived in the neighbourhood of the forsaken building.
One gusty afternoon, like the first, but late in the spring, Robert repaired as usual to this his secret haunt.