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The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
124
More
than
once,
too,
when
I
was
walking
London
streets
by
night,
penniless
and
miserable,
music
from
an
open
window
has
stayed
my
step,
even
as
yesterday.
Very
well
can
I
remember
such
a
moment
in
Eaton
Square,
one
night
when
I
was
going
back
to
Chelsea,
tired,
hungry,
racked
by
frustrate
passions.
I
had
tramped
miles
and
miles,
in
the
hope
of
wearying
myself
so
that
I
could
sleep
and
forget.
Then
came
the
piano
notes--I
saw
that
there
was
festival
in
the
house--and
for
an
hour
or
so
I
revelled
as
none
of
the
bidden
guests
could
possibly
be
doing.
And
when
I
reached
my
poor
lodgings,
I
was
no
longer
envious
nor
mad
with
desires,
but
as
I
fell
asleep
I
thanked
the
unknown
mortal
who
had
played
for
me,
and
given
me
peace.
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