After a moment she lifted her misty eyes to meet his, and answered tremulously:
"It was the singing of 'Oh that I had wings!' I have not heard it since that dreadful time I sang it last, and you can't possibly understand my feelings."
"Certainly not, unless you deign to explain the circumstances."
"Dear Mr. Hargrove asked me to go in and play on the organ in the library, and sing that sacred song for him. I sang it, and played for awhile on the organ, and then went back to him on the verandah, and he had died—alone, in his chair, while I was singing 'Oh that I had wings!' To-day, when the choir began it, everything came back so vividly to me. The dear happy home at the parsonage, the supper I had set for my dear Mr. Hargrove, the flowers in the garden, the smell of the carnations, the sound of the ring-doves in the vines, the moonlight shining so softly on his kind face and white hair—and Oh!——"
They walked the length of two squares before either spoke again.
"I was not aware that you performed on the organ."
"Mrs. Lindsay gave me lessons, and I used the cabinet organ."
"Do you prefer it to the piano?"
"For sacred songs, I do."
"If we had one in the library, do you suppose you would ever sing for me?"