The Spanish Fork press. [volume] (Spanish Fork, Utah) 1902-current, 1908-07-02
THEY LOVE
MUSIC
She Was Not to Sc Dlssuaded
Though He Only Got slS Per.


as he sat in the other-wlth rosy.faced
admiration she looked at him. ewes
sparkling, hands clasped and her lips
slightly parted in the very GREATNESS.
ness of her regard.
"Ah. yes" said he, "ah, yes! The
blaring of the brasses and the signing
OF the woods! Would you have mel.
ancholy? 1t is the breathing of the
ilute. Would you have triumph? Oh.
listen to the comets tones. So I
could go through all the emotions. and
oh, the tonals, the cadenzas, the min,
inns, the ritardo and the sudden, sud.
den stop: the silence! Ah!"
He paused, his eyes glowing on va,
cancy. He made a dreamy, graceful
gesture and looked at her from the
corner of his eyes, drinking In her ad.
miration and absorbing all the tribute
of her pantomime.
And so do II" she cried.
lmpulsively he held out his hand
and impulsively she took 1t.
we will love music all our lives"
she whispered, "all our lives-togeth-
err"
Suddenly then his glowing look van
ished and over his features there
passed an expression of inquiry, fear
and doubt. Gently he sought to with
draw his hand. but she held II tightly.
pressing 1t with silent declarations
OF love and esteem and letting him
know by the soft engagement and re.
Taxation of her grasp that when II
came to music she, too, was there
with fond and true regard for the
most beautiful of all the arts and the
Interpretation of great souls long
dead; and that when It came to rhap-
sodies she could rhapsodize. and when
1t came to passages of sadness she
could weep. but that taking one thing
with another 1t was, IL was the twid.
dly bits. the twiddly bits. the twiddly
bits; oh yes, 1t was the twiddly bits
that stole her heart away.
Yes, yes" she whispered, "all our
lives-together!"
lie looked at her then with the
muteness of entreaty, preserving the
attitude of formality, edging away
from her so that their clasped and ex.
tended arms grew taut and tight.
Every summer" she began in low
vibrating tones, I'VE can go abroad
and listen to the music in the cradle
OF the art, Italy, Germany, France
together! When the music swells our
souls will he lifted into the infinite,
and when the grand chords sound we
will thrill in shudderful ecstasy.
Bayreuth, Paris, Milan, all, how have
longed for them, and now we will see
them, dear-together!"
Now look here--look here"-he be-
gan.
"Or we can subscribe to the operas
here instead" she cried. Garden,
Caruso, Tet-tet-tet-whate her
name $50, how long to hear her
sing! Well have a nice little auto
mobile, one of those that's all closed
in, and We'll go and see them ALTO
gether! You can invite your friends at
the bank. too, and we'll give opera
parties"
She patted his hand, and inwardly
he groaned and cursed the fate that
ing that he was the mainstay and
bulwark of the bank where he daily
added long items of figures. In "Ledg-
err. Deposits: A-G." And seeing that
he was still silent and unhappy and
gave no answering echo to her mel
ody, she tried another and lower key.
IAN utomobile-pshaw!" she ex-
To-. .cl,
a nice carriage Or we could hire
one!" she laughed What fun! Dear
me! And, anyhow. the music is the
thing. The rhythm and the sweep of
II, its manifold moods of joy, its woes,
Its passions All, mel"
Il don't like the operas" he grum-
bled, his eyes anguished and his feet
the carpet, II hate them
have always hated them from child,
Now, look here, / think there's some
understanding"
"Ah!" she cried, II know what 1t is
you like! know! It's the concerts
at the seashore-in the pavilions--on
The sand. And so do l, dear, and so
DO l! Oh, to sit on the beach, heart
20 heart and hand in hand, to hear the
strains of harmony that mingle with
he moaning of the tide!'
She gazed at him with sentiment
profound, and she looked at him mer-
lily, swinging his hand and arching
Ter brows at him until In his inner
most soul he muttered Hang 1t, she
sn't so badl" But aloud he said: 81 |
ion't go away in the summer"
Il have always said" she cried de- |
ightedly, that there is no place in |
he summer like the city. No, sir!
Nowhere! And wen have one of those
Iiano players, dear, and collection of
he best old classics, and, o, what
Happy, happy hours we'll spend to- |
yether! Bach! Beethoven! Etude!
Nh, / feel so happy"
Swinging his hand again, pressing |
I with affection the while, she began:
"Dinna ask me II love we,
Truth. daurna tell
And then not only did she swing |
liR hand hut he SWING hers and in |