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Chapter 3

           IlittlethoughtthetimewouldcomewhenIshouldlookbacktothetimespentinthatsmallmeanroomasthebestperiodofmylifewhenIshouldregardthebitterpovertyIthenendured,asthesternbutholyangelmeanttoguidemetothehighestandnoblestattainmentwhenIshouldpraydesperatelywithwildtearstobeasIwasthen,ratherthanasIamnow!IsitwellorillforusIwonder,thatthefutureishiddenfromourknowledge?Shouldwesteerourwaysclearerfromevilifweknewitsresult?Itisadoubtfulquestionatanyratemyignoranceforthemomentwasindeedbliss.IwentjoyfullyoutofthedrearyhousewhereIhadlivedsolongamongdisappointmentsanddifficulties,turningmybackuponitwithsuchasenseofreliefascouldneverbeexpressedinwordsandthelastthingIheardasIpassedintothestreetwithmycompanion,wasaplaintivelong-drawnwailofminormelody,whichseemedtobesentaftermelikeapartingcry,bytheunknownandinvisibleplayeroftheviolin.

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