Then gradually there stole over her a sense of quiet—almost of peace. It was partly the relaxation that comes after any emotional strain, and partly because of a faint hope, a belief that sometimes came to her and that comforted her above everything else—the thought that because she gave of her best—because the love she gave was a great and good love—some time he could come to know, to understand, and to love her again, if only for her unfaltering love of him!
If she could but wait long enough—patiently enough—in the end the love she so wanted might be hers!
T h e B l i n d M e s s e n g e r
by Annabel Lee.
Illustration by Walter Meyner.
F I could feel the song of faith still singing
In my heart, once filled with melody