The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-03-21
THE BLIND SINGER.

THE BLIND SINGER.
A stranger stood within the cathedral
at Rheims. He was leaning against d
pillar perfectly mosionless except oc-
casionly drawing a glove, which he held
in one hand idly through the other.
'4His attitude was expressive of graceful
ness, and his face was calculated to
make one turn and 1ookat it again, even.
IN casually meeting him on the street.
It was 9 youthful face, and, to q certain
degree, childish; and yet there was
something aboutthe thin lips expressive
of will and energy, His forehead was
high and white, cleaning out from a
mass of raven hair; his eyes were
dark, believed with q sort Of Lngour;
such eyes as always speak the truth,
and deepen into q warmer glow when
they meet your own. Though richly
dressed, there was nothing of the fop
about him. He wore no jewelry beyond
the small diamond ring that shone upon
the ungloved hand.
His eye was drinking in the scene
around him. The paintings, the work
of the famous artists OF the olden time
the massive doric pillars, the richly
frescoed ceiling, tessellated a%isles, the
narrow pews of polished walnut, the
pulpit of porphyry, ornamented with
Latin inscriptions and cherub faces
the windows Of stained glass, the SOM
Der organ with its high-futed front; as
he calmly surveyed these and felt the
holy presence that filled the place, a
beautiful placidness rested upon his
features, and more than one girlish face.
was turned at furtive moments towards
his.
The ceremony was drawing to q close,
and the deep, solemn tones Of Che Or
gan loated through the church. 1t was
a master hand that touched the keys.
Music seemed to assume personi6cation
in that dim old room. Now the tones
are loud, reverberating-then low, soft,
aute-like-and ever and anon the
changing from allegro to andante, in
which the impoverished introductories
seemed more enchanting than either.
The playing was s1lperb-and yet it
was not that which made him bend his
head more attentiyely, and a brighter
light to irradiate his face. It was the
soprano voice in the choir that was
touching his heart with its exquisite
sweetness. He seemed TO hold his
breath lest the smallest information
chp,,1J r. 1aMHs1<,e@ EssEE ~ = Esoe+l a1,o.
distinct, melodious voice it was. Others
had listened to its witchery, and had felt
their Worship touched by a better in
SEPARATION. 1t rose and fell in a sort of
voluptuousness. When it trembled, it
was the tremor Of pathos, and when it
changed to rigidness, it was the assur-
ance, the p~ositiyeness of faith.
The Young mar looked up at the
choir, and among the array of beauty
there his keen eye detected the singer.
Her face was upturned, her eyes were
closed and the light from the window
overhead seemedto change intosa spirit
ual radiance as it fell around her.
After the closing of the the
young man waited al the foot of the
marrow stairs leading from the gallery.
The singer was leaning upon her fathers
arm, and her eyes were still closed.
She was blind!
The young man started at first when
this fact dawned upon his mind, but as
he took n glance at that sweet face his
heart went out toward her with yet a
warmer glow.
1t was m oval face and spiritually
fair; the skin was almost transparent
npI %IoN -a1,,n% #1.,,c ~. ~, x.nJ r,.%1,
yermillion. Her form was we'll. devel-
oped, very motion expressive of grace,
and the beauty Of her attire consis-
ted in It's simplicity alone; al
most any other fabric or arrangement
would have been at antagonism with
that trusting, child-likeface. Her dress
was Of plain calico, nnadorned by
jewelry, while q shawIof G sort of neu-
trail tint was thrown negligently over
her shoulders, partly ~concealing her
full bust and covering but to the elbow
the plump, snowy arm that rested with
in her fathers.
Ernest Harcourt. the young stranger,
was seated beside the blind singer of
the cathedral. Ono arm was thrown
confdingly around his neck, while the
face upturned to his was frightened with
the new life that had been born in her
soul. They were in IN artists studio,
and q face, o very prototype of the blind
girls, that rested against the easel, told
the story Of hours of such communion.
Miriam, my beloved. spoke the
young man, '.you must be my wife.
You must come to my home.n
sAnd my father, Ernest? O! I can
not leave him."
HE shall come too. My home shall
be your home and his.
ernest, I know I love you. I can
not see your face; I cannot see your
eye kindle when You speak; but I can
hear your voice and feel your warm
caress. There is, too, o spiritual es-
encea about you that draws me toward
you, and that tells my instinct, and as
sures my reason, that you are all that
is noble and true. But think Of il
Ernest I--but a poor, ignorant blind
girI--a very child"
sForthis do I love you above aught
else. You are not Ignorant. I have
sat at your feet for hours, o quiet, lis
tening pupil. You have revealed to me
how Beautiful I can make my life. You
have turned my aspirations toward all
that is noble and grand. Floating idly
on the sea of life, q reckless voyager,
did you not come to me and direct me
into the beaten misunderstanding to
me compass, chart and gnide2 Yonare
blind! Should I not love you all the
more for that? Let my eyes be your
eyes. I will be sight unto you, the
aamo as vou have been spiritual sight
unto me.