He walked straight home, holding the note in his hands till he reached his study; then he locked himself in, opened the note, and read as follows: “DEAR MR. DESPARD,--How does it happen that things turn out just as they ought not? I was so anxious to go with you to the church to-day about our music. I know my own powers; they are not contemptible; they are not uncultivated; they are simply, and wholly, and irretrievably _commonplace_. That much I deem it my duty to inform you. “These wretched people, who have spoiled a day’s pleasure, dropped upon me as suddenly as though they had come from the skies. They leave on Thursday morning. Come on Thursday afternoon. If you do not I will never forgive you. On that day give up your manuscripts and books for music and the organ, and allot some portion of your time to, Yours, “T.T.” On Thursday Despard called, and Mrs. Thornton was able to accompany him. The church was an old one, and had one of the best organs in Wales. Despard was to play and she to sing. He had his music ready, and the sheets were carefully and legibly written out from the precious old Greek scores which he loved so dearly and prized so highly. They began with the canon for Easter-day of St. John Damascene, who, according to Despard, was the best of the Eastern hymnists. Mrs. Thornton’s voice was rich and full. As she came to the [Greek: anastaseos haemera]--Resurrection Day--it took up a tone of indescribable exaltation, blending with the triumph peal of the organ. Despard added his own voice--a deep, strong, full-toned basso--and their blended strains bore aloft the sublimest of utterances, “Christ is arisen!” [Illustration: AND THEIR BLENDED STRAINS BORE ALOFT THE SUBLIMEST OF UTTERANCES, ‘CHRIST IS ARISEN’] Then followed a more mournful chant, full of sadness and profound melancholy, the [Greek: teleutaion aspasmon]--the Last Kiss--the hymn of the dead, by the same poet. Then followed a sublimer strain, the hymn of St. Theodore on the Judgment--[Greek: taen haemeran taen phriktaen]--where all the horrors of the day of doom are set forth. The chant was commensurate with the dread splendors of the theme. The voices of the two singers blended in perfect concord. The sounds which were thus wrought out bore themselves through the vaulted aisles, returning again to their own ears, imparting to their own hearts something of the awe with which imagination has enshrouded the Day of days, and giving to their voices that saddened cadence which the sad spirit can convey to its material utterance. Despard then produced some composition of his own, made after the manner of the Eastern chants, which he insisted were the primitive songs of the early Church. The words were those fragments of hymns which are imbedded in the text of the New Testament. He chose first the song of the angels, which was first sung by “a great voice out of heaven”--[Greek: idou, hae skaenae tou Deou]--Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men!