’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. He changed his mind however, and simply motioned to her to proceed. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. “Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. When I told them I was going to your house today, my dad told me to either ask for lessons or bring my violin to give to you permanently since I was not ever going to use it. She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. He kissed her fingers and grinned. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford.
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