'Contralto, you know, but it ought to be stronger,' and she began, her
face all dark against the last of the soft pink sunset:
'I have given my heart to a flower,
Though I know it is fading away,
Though I know it will live but an hour
And leave me to mourn its decay!
'Isn't that touchingly sweet? Then the last verse - I wish I had
my harp, dear - goes as low as my register will reach.'She drew in
her chin, and took a deep breath:
'Ye desolate whirlwinds that rave,
I charge you be good to my dear!
She is all - she is all that I have,
And the time of our parting is near!'
'Beautiful!' said Una. 'And did they like it?'
'Like it? They were overwhelmed - accablEs, as Rene says. My
dear, if I hadn't seen it, I shouldn't have believed that I could have
drawn tears, genuine tears, to the eyes of four grown men. But I
did! Rene simply couldn't endure it! He's all French sensibility.
He hid his face and said, "Assez, Mademoiselle! C'est plus fort que
moi! Assez!" And Sir Arthur blew his nose and said, "Good Ged!
This is worse than Assaye!" While Dad sat with the tears simply
running down his cheeks.
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