Listen now, and you shall hear the joy of Life and
Youth and Self-sacrifice. Blow, Atkinson!" So saying, he crossed the
wide hall and seated himself at the great instrument.
I saw his white fingers busy among the many stops, then his slim hands
fell upon the keys and forth gushed a torrent of sweet sound, a peal
of triumphant joy that thrilled me; great, rolling chords beneath and
through which rippled an ecstasy of silvery notes, whose magic
conjured to my imagination a dew-spangled morning joyous with sun and
thrilling with the glad song of birds new-waked,--a green and golden
world wherein one sped to meet me, white arms outstretched in love,
one herself as fresh and sweet as the morning.
But now the organ notes changed, the pealing rapture sank into a
sighing melody inexpressibly sweet and softly tender, my vision's
smiling lips quivered to drooping sadness, the bright eyes grew dimmed
with tears; and hearkening to the tender passion of this melody, full
of poignant yearning and fond regret, I knew that here was parting and
farewell. And lo! She, my Spirit of Love, was gone, and I alone in a
desolate wilderness to grieve and wait, to strive and hope through
weary length of days. And listening to these soft, plaintive notes, I
bowed my head with eyes brimful of burning tears and heart full of
sudden, chilling dread of the future, and glancing furtively towards
Diana's beautiful, enraptured face, I clenched my fists and prayed
desperate, wordless supplications against any such parting or
farewell.
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