A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them.
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