Jeffery Farnol

“ Presently Bellew knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rising, walked on slowly toward the house. As he approached, he heard someone playing the piano, and the music accorded well with his mood, or his mood with the music, for it was haunting, and very sweet, and with a recurring melody in a minor key, that seemed to voice all the sorrow of Humanity, past, present, and to come.
Drawn by the music, he crossed the Rose Garden, and reaching the terrace, paused there; for the long French windows were open, and, from where he stood, he could see Anthea seated at the piano. ”

“ It’s a pity,” sighed Miss Priscilla, “that it was his right arm,—a great pity!” And here she sighed again, and, catching herself, glanced up quickly at Bellew, and smiled to see how completely absorbed he was in contemplation of the silent figure in the window-seat. “But, after all, better a right arm—than a leg,” she pursued,—“at least, I think so!”
“Certainly!” murmured Bellew.
“A man with only one leg, you see, would be almost as helpless as an—old woman with a crippled foot,—”
“Who grows younger, and brighter, every year!” ”

“ At this familiar appellation, Anthea turned sharply, in time to see him stoop, and kiss Miss Priscilla’s small, white hand; whereupon Anthea must needs curl her lip at his broad back. Then he opened the door, and Miss Priscilla tapped away, even more quickly than usual.
Anthea was half-sitting, half-kneeling among the cushions in the corner of the deep window, apparently still lost in contemplation of the moon. So much so, that she did not stir, or even lower her up-ward gaze, when Bellew came, and stood beside her. ”