Instead of declining, as I would have done at any other time, on account of her slight, I bowed my acquiescence and went to the piano.
To tell you the truth, I was glad of the opportunity afforded me for carrying out a petty piece of revenge against Min, of which I had suddenly bethought me.
I had composed a little song, you must know, that I believed highly applicable to her at the moment, although when I had written it she was no more in my mind than Adam or Eve, or both!
I sang it, looking into her face the while, as she stood by the instrument; and these were the words. I gave them expression enough, you may be sure.
“My lady’s eyes are soft and blue, deep-changing as the
iris hue;
But, eyes deceive
Hearts ‘worn on sleeve,’
And make us oft their power rue!
“Her little mouth—a ‘sunny south’—wafts perfumed
kisses to the wind;
But, winds blow cold,
And kiss of old,
A trait’rous symbol was, I find!
“For pearly teeth and rosebud lips, whose honied wealth
the zephyr sips,
But bait the lair
Where fickle fair,
Like Scylla, wreck men’s stately ships—
“And witching eyes and plaintive sighs, and looks of love
and tender words—
Love’s tricking arts -
Are poison’d darts,
More awesome far than pendant swords!”
“Thank you,” said Mrs Clyde; “it is very pretty. Your own, I suppose?”
“Yes,” I said. I did not feel disposed to be more communicative.
“What do you call it?” asked Min, carelessly.
“‘Per Contra,’” I answered. “Don’t you think it a suitable title?”
“Yes, I understand” she said. “Thank you, Mr Lorton!”