One day, when they were all sitting quietly in Thea’s room, and Lady Edith had Alan in her arms, caressing him tenderly, her brother exclaimed:
“Edith, the sight of you with Thea’s child in your arms brings vividly back to me the days of long ago, before your little girl died, when you used to hold her that way and sing to her so sweetly in the twilight.”
Lady Edith started, and a long, deep sigh broke from her as she clasped the blue-eyed boy more tightly to her breast.
“Do you remember the pretty songs you used to sing then? I wish you would sing one now for little Alan,” continued Lord Stuart.
“I will try,” Lady Edith answered; but her sweet voice trembled and she sighed deeply. At last she began to sing falteringly, and Thea, who had been half sunk in painful reverie, gave a violent start as the words fell on her ear:
“‘Little Sweetheart, come and kiss me,
Just once more before I go;
Tell me that your heart will miss me
As I wander to and fro.
Let me feel the tender pressing