Part 43 (1/2)
”I was only dozing. But what did you do then?”
”Oh, I sat quiet for a while, and then took up the amus.e.m.e.nt I usually follow when I find myself alone.”
”What is that? Pray tell.”
”Singing, of course.”
”Singing?”
”Why, yes, didn't you know I could sing?”
”Do you mean to say you were singing all those two or three hours?”
”Not all the time, but at intervals. I sang so loud sometimes that I thought I should wake you.”
”Then,” I exclaimed with feeling, ”it was you that I heard. You know my ears are never fully asleep. Margaret, it was your voice that I have been falling in love with.”
At this Margaret laughed heartily, as she answered:
”You have been a good while finding it out. I knew it all the time.
That's what I sang for, and I had my pay as I went on, for every time I began, whether soft or loud, I could see your face light up with the light of your soul, and then I knew my voice was finding its way to some corner of your brain.”
”How stupid of me,” I said, ”not to wake up the very first time I heard you; but I thought it was Mona. Oh, how it did thrill me! And to think I am to hear it again when I am really awake. Come, why do we waste all this time in talking when I have that great happiness still unfulfilled?
May I not hear you sing now?”
”Oh, you might be disappointed, after all. My idea is that you enjoyed my singing because all your critical faculties were dulled in sleep, and you heard only through your heart, as it were. Don't you think it would be better to live awhile on the pleasant memory you have brought back with you?”
”Not at all. I can retain the memory, and have the present happiness besides.”
”But you said you never expected to hear such music in your waking hours.”
”Do not be so cruel, Margaret, as to recall those words against me, although they were really a tribute to you, for it was your own voice that forced me to utter them. But what can I do to induce you to sing?”
”Go to sleep,” she replied. ”I will sing for you all you please when you are asleep, and you can hear me and think of Mona at the same time. That will be a double pleasure.”
”My dear, I prefer to think of you. Mona was a beautiful girl, but she could never love me as you do.”
”Why so? Wasn't her heart large enough?”
”Yes, it was too large--so large that she loved everybody, and one no more than another; while you, darling, have chosen me, out of all the people in the world, as the object of your highest and deepest love, and yet in doing that have only increased your power of loving others. Now what will you do to pay me for that speech?”
”Well, I'll relent. But you must at least pretend to be asleep. Come back and find another chair that you can rest in easily, and I will sit beside you. There, that will do. Now turn your head away from me, close your eyes, and promise me you won't open them till I tell you to do so.
I intend to have the calm judgment of your ears uninfluenced by your sight or any other sense. If you can manage to fall asleep while I am singing, so much the better.”
”Margaret,” I replied, ”I shall try hard to keep my eyes closed, but there isn't a drug in the s.h.i.+p's dispensary powerful enough to put me to sleep.”
”Then keep quiet and think of Mona. That will be the next best occupation for you. Stop laughing, or I shall disappoint you, after all. I should think the memory of the first time I sang for you would be enough to sober you. Now I am going to turn away my head, so that if you do look around you won't see my face.”