In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. It was that somebody had cheated you. With his gimblet he contrived to bore a number of holes so close together that at last one end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same with the other extremity, it fell out altogether. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. . "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us.
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