The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1900-04-27
TWILIGHT.

NIGHT is coming on; the room
His growing dark as with fast
accommodating black m s t.
Through the east windows | see
the foliage of the lawn massed
heavily and darkly against the
cOlorless sky, while through the
west windows, beyond the open
lawn between the SNOWFALL
hedges, | see the sky and river
equally red and calm, and divided
by long black trail of pine
woods. Over the open lawn bats
whirl aimlessly and tirelessly.
The windows are open; the air is
warm and damp, and sickening
sweet with locust blossoms. The
mirror between the east windows
reflects the West, which is at once
gorgeous and peaceful; the oppo-
site mirror reflects only shades of
darkness, as indefinite as
dream.
There is no one in the room but
Ruth and me. The piano stands
across corner with the key board
towards the walls, and she is
playing that old thing of Men,
delssohn's which says palmer
than words: cit is all, all gone
my happiness, youth, love,
everything" 1t does not say so
much to her, and yet she is very
sad. Her black dress blends
with the shadows, but her pro-
file, like a cameo, lies pale
against them. Softly, softly,
she plays on, l sit with my fore
head in my palm.
The piano is Old-it has been
here since many years before the
war. Its notes are thin and
tinkling, but she makes them
speak her sadness. 1t was this
piano that betrayed her to me;
without it | might never have
read her soul. Music has always
been her one means of expires.
sion. But you-you were differ
ent. You expressed yourself by
everything you did, every action,
every gesture. Your laughter
told of the lightness of your
heart; your tears of its tender
ness; your smiles and frowns,
your attitudes, betrayed your hu
mors always.
No one would have guessed
that you were sisters. She has
always been so calm and con
slant, while you, though true in
the depths of your nature--those
depths which in youth are half
asleep-were vulnerable through
the lighter qualities which were
keenly awake--vanity, magma
ton, love of luxury and pleasure.
You were like plant whose roots
are firm in the ground, but
whose leaves and branches are
moved by every breeze. She was
never pretty; you were beautiful.
Your hair was red like the marsh
out there in winter; your skin had
the tint and texture of blush
rose; and your eyes were the
color of sea wafer in the shadow
of a boat.
Those blots on the sky out
there are the SNOWFALL hedges
Do you remember how we
used to throw the tiny blossoms,
Just like snow crystals, would
stick to your hair and shOuldersg
And Oh the river over there we
used to drift on summer evenings.
Dou YOU remember? And there
is your rose garden, where we
used to pot the cuttings; and here,
by the fire on winter nights, we
told stories, or sang to the guitar
accompaniment. 1t was not so
much the sweetness of your voice
to which l listened as the expires
sion of your soul, rich in promises
of love. Tell me, do you
also remember? Ruth was pale
and silent in those days. Some
times she would play, as she is
playing now, in the twilight,
while we held each others hands,
half listening, whispering to each
other, and laughing softly. Oh,
the past, how sweet it was!
Strange, that afterwards it
should be the sweet, more than the
bitter, that hurts one so much!
Then he came, with his wealth
and his name, and | watched you
as you listened with eyes like
stars to his stories of the world
of pleasure which had always
seemed as far away and inaccessi-
BILE to you as fairyland.
The west has grown brick red
and dingy; breeze shakes the
curtains; outside the tree toads
are droning their dull harmonies.
Rhe room is dark; it is large and
has many corners, and the furni-
ture is indicated merely by in
creased depths of shadow. Ruth