dually that you shall not know when it comes. I was speaking of Provis. Do you know, Handel, he improves?"
"I said to you I thought he was softened when I last saw him."
"So you did. And so he is. He was very communicative last night, and told me more of his life. You remember his breaking off here about some woman that he had had great trouble with.—Did I hurt you?"
I had started, but not under his touch. His words had given me a start.
"I had forgotten that. Herbert, but I remember it now you speak of it."
"Well! He went into that part of his life, and a dark wild part it is. Shall I tell you? Or would it worry you just now?"
"Tell me by all means. Every word."
Herbert bent forward to look at me more nearly, as if my reply had been rather more hurried or more eager than he could quite account for. "Your head is cool?" he said, touching it.
"Quite," said I. "Tell me what Provis said, my dear Herbert."
"It seems," said Herbert, "—theres a
