The Colonel indeed (we must remember that
he was in love and that it was after dinner) became quite poetical
(internally of course) about it, and in his heart compared her first
to St. Cecilia at her organ, and then to the Angel of the Twilight. He
had never seen her look so lovely. At her worst she was a handsome and
noble-looking woman, but now the shadow from without, and though he
knew nothing of that, the shadow from her heart within also, aided
maybe by the music's swell, had softened and purified her face till it
did indeed look almost like an angel's. It is strong, powerful faces
that are capable of the most tenderness, not the soft and pretty ones,
and even in a plain person, when such a face is in this way seen, it
gathers a peculiar beauty of its own. But Ida was not a plain person,
so on the whole it is scarcely wonderful that a certain effect was
produced upon Harold Quaritch. Ida went on singing almost without a
break--to outward appearance, at any rate, all unconscious of what was
passing in her admirer's mind. She had a good memory and a sweet
voice, and really liked music for its own sake, so it was no great
effort to her to do so.
Presently, she sang a song from Tennyson's "Maud," the tender and
beautiful words whereof will be familiar to most readers of her story.
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