After a light supper they again gathered in the parlor and an hour was devoted to music. Leopold neither played nor sang, but he was an attentive and critical listener. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and Leopold asked Rosa if she would not like to take a walk up on the Cliff. She readily consented, but Alice pleasantly declined Quincy's invitation to accompany them, and for the first time since the old days at Mason's Corner, he and she were alone together.
They talked of Eastborough and Mason's Corner and Aunt Ella for a while. Then conversation lagged and they sat for a time in a satisfied, peaceful silence.
Suddenly Quincy spoke. "I had almost forgotten, Miss Pettengill, I bought a new song yesterday morning, and I brought it with me. If you have no objection I will try, it over."
"I always enjoy your singing," she replied.
He ran down stairs and soon returned with the music. He seated himself at the piano and played the piece through with great expression.
"It is a beautiful melody," remarked Alice. "What is it?"
"It is a German song," replied Quincy, "by Reichardt. It is called 'Love's Request.' I will sing it this time."
And he did sing it with all the force and fervor of a noble, manly nature, speaking out his love covertly in the words of another, but hoping in his heart that the beautiful girl who listened to him would forget the author and think only of the singer. How many times young lovers have tried this artful trick, and in what proportion it has been successful only Heaven knows.
"The words are very pretty, are they not?" said Alice. "I was listening so closely to the melody that I did not catch them all."
"I will read them to you," rejoined Quincy, and going to the window, where the light was still bright enough, he read the words of the song in a low, impassioned voice: