McClure's Magazine, Vol. 31, No. 1, May 1908Various
General
McClure's Magazine, Vol. 31, No. 1, May 1908
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Literature -- Periodicals
"He appeared to dread interruption, for he went on hurriedly:
'Extraordinary, isn't it? But let me tell you how it happened. I've a
garden out there to the south, and last summer, soon after this thing
first came upon me, I used to have myself wheeled there and left in
the shade for hours to think things out where I could feel light and
color and fresh air about me. On the other side of my wall is her
cottage, and one day she began to play, play like an angel. You know
how that would move me. I sent a note to her telling her that a blind
beggar had been lifted into heaven for a little while by her music,
and would be glad if, of her clemency, he might sometimes be so lifted
again. After that she played to me every day, and so, she being
alone--for her mother, it seems, had died early in the spring, soon
after they came--and I being lonely, we gradually drifted into--Oh, I
know it's monstrous!' he exclaimed, breaking off in his recital, and
evidently afraid of the mental recoil he suspected in me, 'monstrous
to consider that a beautiful young woman should bear the name, even,
of wife to me; but she is very poor, and now entirely desolate. I am,
comparatively speaking, well off, and I cannot live long! I shall at
least leave her better able to fight the world. You'll think I could
do that, I suppose, in any event, for a man such as I am--a sightless
head in command of a body that cannot move hand or foot--might _will_
what he pleased to any woman without exciting adverse comment; but I
ask you, haven't I the right to allow myself the happiness of her near
companionship for whatever time it may be before I die? It seems to me
that I have, since, instead of shrinking from me, she loves me, and is
willing, indeed,--bless her wonderful heart for it,--_wilful_ to marry
me. What time is it?' he cried abruptly, turning his blank eyes toward
the clock on the mantelpiece.
"'Five minutes before nine,' I answered.
"'She will be here directly,' he said. 'I had a piano of my mother's
put in order and moved in here as soon as the garden grew too cold for
me. She comes every evening to play to me. You will see her with me,
and alone if you like, and to-morrow you must tell me, man to man,
what you think I ought or ought not to do. She knows that I was to
write and put the case before you, but she will be surprised to find
you here.'
"'I will do my best,' said I, infinitely moved, 'to make friends with
her.'
"'I wish I could tell what you are thinking now!' he cried out with
sudden passion, and then, before I could reply, he said, 'Hush! I hear
her in the hall.'
"All the excitement died out of his face, leaving it white and drawn,
but peaceful. I had heard nothing.
"'She's coming,' he whispered, 'and she'll be so embarrassed, poor,
pretty soul. She thinks it's of no account, her being pretty, but I
tell her that, blind as I am, I think I _feel_ the atmosphere of her
beauty, and if she were plain she would not please me so.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account