Their minds are turned against him. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here.
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