THE SILVER QUEEN (continued 2)
Reading edition
“How soon may I come?—next week—next year?”
“Not next year,” she said quickly; and although I was looking at my paper, I saw him raise her hand to his lips.
“And will you give me your photo then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, and I wanted to jump and yell, but I was afraid she might change her mind.
“I wish you would sing one song for me before you go,” said Harry, after they had been silent for some moments.
“What shall it be?”
“When other lips,” he answered.
“But there should be no other lips,” said the bright and charming woman.
“I know there should not, and I hope there may not, but sing it anyway and I will try to be strong and unafraid.”
As Miss Parsons went to the piano, I left the room, left them alone, and as I went out into the twilight, I heard the gentle notes as the light fingers wandered over the keys.
“When other lips and other hearts—” Came drifting through the trees. “In language whose excess imparts,” Was borne upon the breeze. Ah, hope is sweet and love is strong And life’s a summer sea; A woman’s soul is in her song; “And you’ll remember me.” Still rippling from her throbbing throat With joy akin to pain, There seemed a tear in every note, A sob in every strain. Soft as the twilight shadows creep Across the listless lea, The singer sang her love to sleep With, “You’ll remember me.”
Truly yours, Cy Warman.
