Mr. Alison looked appealingly at Mary; but she was still wrapt in the melody.
Then I heard a strain of music,
So mighty, so pure, so clear,
That my very sorrow was silent,
And my heart stood still to hear.
"One of the loveliest songs I ever heard," Mr. Alison declared. "And he sings it divinely."
And I tenderly laid my message
On the music's outspread wings.
I heard it float farther and farther,
In sound more perfect than speech;
Farther than sight can follow,
Farther than soul can reach.
Mary with a tear in each eye was staring up at the dome of the conservatory. Mr. Alison, although he could not muster a tear even in one eye, looked in the same direction and derived a great deal of satisfaction from the thought that he and this beautiful girl by his side were both staring at the same pane of glass. The singer achieved a triumphant C.
And I know that at last my message
Has passed through the golden gate;
So my heart is no longer restless,
And I am content to wait.
"'Content to wait,'" Mr. Alison echoed meaningly, when the applause had died down. "'Content to wait,'" he repeated. "So long as I know that somebody has received my message."
Mary was nearly sure that this was a declaration; but she was not absolutely sure, and she wished that Daisy Harland had not at the last moment telegraphed to say that she could not be with her beloved Mary on her twentieth birthday.
"Ah, Miss Flower," Mr. Alison continued, shaking his head. "It would be hard for you to understand the thoughts of a man like myself when he hears a song like that. At the same time, the moral of it surely is that, however far away we may seem from heaven, we are not so far away in reality. We can hope. We can hope, Miss Flower. I wonder if I might venture to say Mary?"