"
Brigit's eyes filled with tears.
The chapel, disused for many years, had evolved into a sort of
lumber-room, and she could see, in her imagination, the pathetic picture
of her little brother fiddling away among the piled-up boxes and old
furniture, trying to hasten the moment when his beloved master would
find him worthy of personal instruction.
It was all clear to his sister. Left alone, the child's whole
strength--far more strength than he should have been allowed to
expend--had gone to his passion for his violin, and now, unless a change
for the better should come very soon, he must die, burnt with fever. And
the fault would be hers. For the first time she felt the meaning of the
word "duty." Tommy had been her duty, and she had neglected him.
At length one day she made a further discovery.
She was sitting by the bed, and for over an hour the child had lain
still, his eyes half shut. It was five o'clock and a dark afternoon, so
that the room was full of shadows.
Suddenly Tommy turned and looked at her.
"Brigit," he asked, recognising her for the first time, "are you in love
with Joyselle?"
For a full minute she could not answer, and then said very gently,
"Darling Tommy--you know me?"
"Yes, yes, of course I know you.
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