Fantasy fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction
“Do not be so cruel, Margaret, as to recall those words against me,
although they were really a tribute to you, for it was your own voice
that forced me to utter them. But what can I do to induce you to sing?”
“Go to sleep,” she replied. “I will sing for you all you please when you
are asleep, and you can hear me and think of Mona at the same time. That
will be a double pleasure.”
“My dear, I prefer to think of you. Mona was a beautiful girl, but she
could never love me as you do.”
“Why so? Wasn’t her heart large enough?”
“Yes, it was too large--so large that she loved everybody, and one no
more than another; while you, darling, have chosen me, out of all the
people in the world, as the object of your highest and deepest love, and
yet in doing that have only increased your power of loving others. Now
what will you do to pay me for that speech?”
“Well, I’ll relent. But you must at least pretend to be asleep. Come
back and find another chair that you can rest in easily, and I will sit
beside you. There, that will do. Now turn your head away from me, close
your eyes, and promise me you won’t open them till I tell you to do so.
I intend to have the calm judgment of your ears uninfluenced by your
sight or any other sense. If you can manage to fall asleep while I am
singing, so much the better.”
“Margaret,” I replied, “I shall try hard to keep my eyes closed, but
there isn’t a drug in the ship’s dispensary powerful enough to put me to
sleep.”
“Then keep quiet and think of Mona. That will be the next best
occupation for you. Stop laughing, or I shall disappoint you, after
all. I should think the memory of the first time I sang for you would be
enough to sober you. Now I am going to turn away my head, so that if you
do look around you won’t see my face.”
I said nothing in reply, being too eager to have her begin. And now I
had not long to wait for the fulfillment of my oft-expressed desire.
Sweet and low came the first accents of her song, and, with all my
anticipations and with the foretaste I had had in my sleep, I was not
prepared for the effect they had on me. It was Mona’s voice, but with
every fine quality so exaggerated that all my faculties, now in the
fullest sense awake, were completely taken captive. I made no movement,
except to turn my head slightly so that I might drink in the sweet
sounds with both ears. As the notes increased in volume my pleasure grew
to rapture. Not only was my critical taste fully satisfied, which of
itself was almost bliss, but that other and higher effect followed--my
heart was enlisted. I had never known love till that hour. We had been
introduced to each other years ago and had kept up a cold and formal
acquaintance, and in my recent sleep we had made notable progress,
but only now did love and I really clasp hands in a warm and lasting
embrace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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