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JOHN HANNON'S FIRMAMENT 3

while yet one other was that undying joy to those who love horseflesh, Rosa Bonheur's Horse Fair, full four feet long.

In the space and distances of this great room were all the things that make for human comfort and content. Tables with covers of wonderful hand-work stood here and there with books upon them, and lamps, while worn chairs with deep cushions invited everywhere.

There were couches against the walls, and in one corner where the light fell softly from the west through the fine-leaved vine outside the window, a piano, so old that its once milk-white keyes were yellow as an old dog's tooth, lifted its harp-shaped top majestically against the piece of ancient tapestry that draped the wall behind. A narrow bench, entirely covered with minute carvings, black with age and polished by the wear of many a whispering gown, stood meekly before it, as if glad to serve its lowly way the once grand instrument.

Here in the dusk a woman came sometimes, feeling with outstretched hands for the things she could not see, and sliding softly on the ancient bench, played tinkling tunes of a long past day. A sweet, fair woman she was, frail and delicate of outline and demeanour, with patient lines in her clear face and with the light of a splendid soul shining in her darkness.

For twenty years she had been like a prisoner in this fortress, but guarded by so many loving hearts, watched by so many keen eyes, served by so many