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Penelope's Irish Experiences-Part33_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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high screen or temporarypartition some one was playing softly on an

organ.



We stood in a quiet circle by Stella's resting-place, and Dr.

Gerald, who never forgets anything, apparently, was reminding us of



Thackeray's gracious and pathetic tribute:-

'Fair and tender creature, pure and affectionate heart! Boots it to



you now that the whole world loves you and deplores you? Scarce any

man ever thought of your grave that did not cast a flower of pity on



it, and write over it a sweet epitaph. Gentle lady! so lovely, so

loving, so unhappy. You have had countless champions, millions of



manly hearts mourning for you. From generation to generation we

take up the fond tradition of your beauty; we watch and follow your



story, your bright morning love and purity, your constancy, your

grief, your sweet martyrdom. We know your legend by heart. You are



one of the saints of English story.'

As Dr. Gerald's voice died away, the strains of 'Love's Young Dream'



floated out from the distant end of the building.

"The organist must be practising for a wedding," said Francesca,



very much alive to anything of that sort.

"'Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life,'"



she hummed. "Isn't it charming?"

"You ought to know," Dr. Gerald answered, looking at her



affectionately, though somewhat too sadly for my taste; "but an old

fellow like me must take refuge in the days of 'milder, calmer



beam,' of which the poet speaks."

Ronald and Himself, guide-books in hand, walked away to talk about



the 'Burial of Sir John Moore,' and look for Wolfe's tablet, and I

stole behind the great screen which had been thrown up while repairs



of some sort were being made or a new organ built. A young man was

evidently taking a lesson, for the old organist was sitting on the



bench beside him, pulling out the stops, and indicating the time

with his hand. There was to be a wedding--that was certain; for



'Love's Young Dream' was taken off the music rack at that moment,

while 'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms' was put in



its place, and the melody came singing out to us on the vox humana

stop.



'Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,



And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.'



Francesca joined me just then, and a tear was in her eye. "Penny

dear, when all is said, 'Believe me' is the dearer song of the two.



Anybody can sing, feel, live, the first, which is but a youthful

dream, after all; but the other has in it the proved fidelity of the



years. The first song belongs to me, I know, and it is all I am fit

for now; but I want to grow toward and deserve the second."



"You are right; but while Love's Young Dream is yours and Ronald's,

dear, take all the joy that it holds for you. The other song is for



Salemina and Dr. Gerald, and I only hope they are realising it at

this moment--secretive, provoking creatures that they are!"



The old organist left his pupil just then, and disappeared through a

little door in the rear.



"Have you the Wedding March there?" I asked the pupil who had been

practising the love-songs.



"Oh yes, madam, though I am afraid I cannot do it justice," he

replied modestly. "Are you interested in organ music?"



"I am very much interested in yours, and I am still more interested

in a romance that has been dragging its weary length along for



twenty years, and is trying to bring itself to a crisis just on the

other side of that screen. You can help me precipitate it, if you



only will!"

Well, he was young and he was an Irishman, which is equivalent to



being a born lover,and he had been brought up on Tommy Moore and

music--all of which I had known from the moment I saw him, else I



should not have made the proposition. I peeped from behind the

screen. Ronald and Himself were walking toward us; Salemina and



Dr. Gerald were sitting together in one of the front pews. I

beckoned to my husband.






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