She did not reply at first; but when I looked up, it was as though she had not wept, so bright she beamed.
"That's all right, I knew you would. Oh! if she knew how much good she had done, how happy she would be! How happy she will be when she goes to a concert some day, in some year to come, and sees you stand up, and hears you praise music in the voice it loves best!"
"Do you think so? Do you think it is the best voice of music?"
"Because it is like the voice of a single soul, I do. But Mr. Davy says we cannot know the power of an orchestra of souls."
"I can."
"Oh! I beg your pardon! I forgot."
"But I don't think that I remember well; for whenever I try to think of it, I seem only to see his face, and hear his voice speaking to me, saying, 'Above all, the little ones!'"
"How pretty it was! You will be sure to see him in Germany, and then you can ask him whether he wrote the 'Tone-Wreath.'"
Oh, how I laughed again!
"What sort of place shall I go to, should you think?"