More the once she faltered,
but after a period of waiting she would repeat the passage and go on. But
presently a longer silence occurred, and Lancy turned from the window to
look at her. Tears were standing in her eyes, and she sat with her hands
clasped tightly before her. Drawing her away from the piano, he led her to
the sofa, and the silent sympathy in his manner was more eloquent than any
flow of words could have been.
"It seems foolish, does it not, Lancy?" she said at last, "but it is no
common piece of music, and I shall never be able to play it before
strangers."
"No; neither shall I, Dexie. That music speaks to your heart and mine
alike. Let it be for ourselves alone, will you, Dexie?" and the grey eyes
looked very dark in their earnestness.
"Well, have it so, Lancy. I will be able to play it properly by and by, I
expect. But I never noticed the name of it."
"It is simply called 'A Song Without Words.' Let us name it again to suit
ourselves."
"Very well. I came in to ask you into our side of the house. The picnic is
being discussed; but I don't feel a bit like going back myself now--that
music has almost upset me.
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