United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
"Dear Mr. Hargrove asked me to go in and play on the organ in the
library, and sing that sacred song for him. I sang it, and played for
awhile on the organ, and then went back to him on the verandah, and
he had died--alone, in his chair, while I was singing 'Oh that I had
wings!' To-day, when the choir began it, everything came back so
vividly to me. The dear happy home at the parsonage, the supper I had
set for my dear Mr. Hargrove, the flowers in the garden, the smell of
the carnations, the sound of the ring-doves in the vines, the
moonlight shining so softly on his kind face and white hair--and
Oh!----"
They walked the length of two squares before either spoke again.
"I was not aware that you performed on the organ."
"Mrs. Lindsay gave me lessons, and I used the cabinet organ."
"Do you prefer it to the piano?"
"For sacred songs, I do."
"If we had one in the library, do you suppose you would ever sing for
me?"
"If you really desired it, perhaps I would try; but of course I know
very well that you care nothing for my music; and our dear old hymns
and chants would only tire and annoy you."
"To whom does 'our' refer?"
"My dear Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Lindsay and her son. We so often sang
quartettes at home in the long, delicious, peaceful summer evenings,
before the awful affliction came and separated us."
The lamps were lighted, and night closed in, with silvery
constellations overhead, before Mr. Palma and his companion were near
their destination. As they crossed a street, he said, abruptly
breaking a long silence:
"Take my arm."
Never before had such a courtesy been tendered, and she looked up in
unfeigned surprise.
He was so tall, so stately, that the proposition seemed to her
preposterous.
"Can't you reach it?"
He took her hand, drew it beneath, and placed the fingers on his arm.
"Of late you have grown so rapidly, your head is almost on a level
with my shoulder; and you are quite tall enough now to accept my
escort."
When they were within a square of home, Mr. Palma said very gravely:
"This afternoon I indulged one of your whims: now will you
recipricate, and gratify a caprice of your guardian?"
"Have you caprices? I think not but I will oblige you if I can do
so."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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