Something lively now , young Felix . Stop probing into my soul , where you have n't no business to be , you infant , and play me something out of your own -- something sweet and happy and pure . '' `` I 'll play the way I feel on sunshiny mornings , when the birds are singing and I forget I have to be a minister , '' said Felix simply . A witching , gurgling , mirthful strain , like mingled bird and brook song , floated out on the still air , along the path where the red and golden maple leaves were falling very softly , one by one . The Reverend Stephen Leonard heard it , as he came along the way , and the Reverend Stephen Leonard smiled . Now , when Stephen Leonard smiled , children ran to him , and grown people felt as if they looked from Pisgah over to some fair land of promise beyond the fret and worry of their care-dimmed earthly lives . Mr. Leonard loved music , as he loved all things beautiful , whether in the material or the spiritual world , though he did not realize how much he loved them for their beauty alone , or he would have been shocked and remorseful . He himself was beautiful . His figure was erect and youthful , despite seventy years . His face was as mobile and charming as a woman 's , yet with all a man 's tried strength and firmness in it , and his dark blue eyes flashed with the brilliance of one and twenty ; even his silken silvery hair could not make an old man of him . He was worshipped by everyone who knew him , and he was , in so far as mortal man may be , worthy of that worship . `` Old Abel is amusing himself with his violin again , '' he thought . `` What a delicious thing he is playing ! He has quite a gift for the violin . But how can he play such a thing as that , -- a battered old hulk of a man who has , at one time or another , wallowed in almost every sin to which human nature can sink ? He was on one of his sprees three days ago -- the first one for over a year -- lying dead-drunk in the market square in Charlottetown among the dogs ; and now he is playing something that only a young archangel on the hills of heaven ought to be able to play . Well , it will make my task all the easier . Abel is always repentant by the time he is able to play on his fiddle . '' Mr. Leonard was on the door-stone . The little black dog had frisked down to meet him , and the gray cat rubbed her head against his leg .
Old Abel did not notice him ; he was beating time with uplifted hand and smiling face XXXXX Felix 's music , and his eyes were young again , glowing with laughter and sheer happiness .
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