Common to all, for you who stand apart!
O weariness of measures tried and known!
Yet in their rhythm, you—if you alone—
Should hear the passionate pulses of my heart!"
As he finished he lifted his eyes and looked at Amy. Where else should a young man look, to emphasise the meaning of his love-poem, except into a woman's sympathising eyes? But the look, mere matter of course as it was, startled and silenced her. "You—if you alone!" The words, spoken with the soft fulness of Adrian's pleasant voice, rang in her ears. A young woman whose attractions were recognised by all the family might very well be pardoned for not at once perceiving that the emphasis was purely artistic.
But the silence which would have been full of meaning for the lover, frightened the poet.
"You don't like it!" he exclaimed, anxiously.
"Oh yes, I do—I like it very much."
"But there is something wrong," Adrian persisted. "I am sure you don't like it."
"Indeed—indeed I do," the girl declared fervently, and Molly chimed in with an enthusiastic—