The Chilhowee echo. [volume] (Knoxville, Tenn.) 1899-19??, 1900-03-31

silently quoted.
"And the shadow of a monarchs crown
was hidden in her hair"
Without preface or introduction he
dashed at once into an earnest, sympa-
thetic recitation of the stanzas. He was
possessed of a very soft and musical
voice, free from harsh vibrations,
smooth and round in it's lower tones,
and admirably adapted to such an eff
fort. AS he proceeded the effect upon
his listeners became apparent. Clara
sat with lips parted and eyes wide open,
gazing intently upon him, absorbed in
the music and fascination of the\story.
Constance was also sitting upon messy
hillock, her hands clasped in herlap.
At first she looked at him with some in
terest in the poem as a story; but as
through the rhythm and the panorama
created by genius and intense, hopeless,
reverential love of the artist came Sob
bling and signing in whirlwind of des-
pairing passion, she could look at him
no longer. She covered her face With
her hand and sat silently listening.
When after pause he continued:
"Soh! how still the lady standeth! it's a
dream!-a dream of mercies!"
She raised her head suddenly and re-
garded him steadfastly to the end, not
. L. h on
his lips he recited:
eyes, 'he said, "now throbbing through
me! Are we eyes that did undo me?"
in a voice that faltered in spite OF his|
resolution. When he closed, Clara drew
long sigh of relief. ooh! isn't III
splendidw she said But Constance was
silent. Her face was pale and her eye'C
dilated, as he had seen them on thu
night she had played for him; and
mighty throb of triumph shook hill
breast as he saw that the intensity 1 |
: his recitation had once more torn TIL
mask from the calm, proud face.
Presently she turned her eyes, which
she had again averted, full upon his,
and he saw that they were heavy with
repressed tears. She held out her hand,
and for the first time in their lives their
palms met. What soft delicious thrifty
of divine pain the touch sent nlIiyaIi; y .
y through his veins N
"You have given me
$ pleasure" she said, "a
l. how to thank you for it.
: Il am already your Jdebtoy
!. shame me with thanksf' he ell
u Clara looked at them in SO
y prise.
Q "Welln' she said. "You two curious
Il people may entertain eachAother while
> l get some of those purple and yellow
d flowers" and pointing at cluster in a
' fence corner some twenty yards distant
y she tripped gayly away, and was soor
e singing ballad and twining fantastic
nosegay of golden rod, wild clover and
mountain coral. The breeze rustleC
softly overhead and shook down an oc
casional shower of dead leaves. He
l. picked up one of these and looked at it.
q "Of what do the dead leaves remind
>. you?" he said.
N "That is according to my mood" she
,r answered. ''If am sad they are to me
If like dead hopes; the sport of every
A. wind, trodden under foot by the vilest
!. scorned and useless, although once the
,s very life of the parent tree. If am il
a better humor they are like good deeds
h that have served their purpose. They
are gone, but their benefcent effect re
4 MAINS"
a "To me-" he said, "they are like the
Up generations of men. They grow up ant
,, are all-important in their own day ant
time. They dance in the breeze; they
r. play in the sunshine; they grow fat OF
v the dews and the strength of the earth
a they grow old, fade. die and are gone
!. forever; while the race, the stock tina
n bore them reaches sturdily upward ant
>. forgets that they ever existed
:, ga poor picture of human life," she
i said, smiling, and shaking her head
u "Human life is full of love, and self
,r sacrifice, and good and glorious design,
,r and emotions. We make our lives Of
mar them, while the leaves do nothing
r. but live. We are active; they are pas
TX sive. Am | not right"
:, "Perhaps," he said, slowly, gazing
le intently in her face. Let us see whery
IS your philosophy leads We make Of
mar our lives, you say. I suppose
l. life that has achieved supreme happi|
ness may be considered made, as far al
it earthly things extend?"
l. She bowed assent.
81 have my life to make. | know all
)t object, now beyond my reach, the poi
/" session of which l sometimes impiouslI
think would compensate me for the losI
1t of heaven. To make my life, to achievI
IS that only means of happiness, mus
70 aspire to obtain that object, no mattel
who says nay, no matter who else maj
10 reach after the same noble prize. All