Just then some one touched the keys of the piano, and sang the words of a song that haunted her forever:
“Alone in crowds to wander on
And feel that all the charm is gone,
While voices dear, and eyes beloved,
Shed round us once, where’er we roved—
This, this, the doom must be
Of all who’ve loved, and loved to see
The few bright things they thought would stay
For ever near them, die away.
Though fairer forms around us throng,