It had
been a busy day as well as a sad one, and Elsie Gurney spent the most of it
by the side of her friend, helping, as well as hindering her, as the
household goods were being packed for removal. Lancy claimed one hour in
the evening for himself; and as the rooms in the Sherwood household were
almost dismantled, the greater part of the time was spent over the piano in
the Gurneys' parlor, and their heart's good-bye was spoken through the one
piece of music which they called their own.
"Remember, Dexie," and Lancy turned on the piano-stool and took her hands
in his own, "you must not play that piece for anyone; it is yours and mine.
When you are alone and think of me, let your thoughts be expressed through
our own sweet music. Do you know, my Dexie, I believe I shall know when you
are playing to me; that invisible power which we have both felt, but cannot
express, much less give it a name, will still be between us, and when my
heart goes out to you, my darling, it shall be through the same medium.
That piece of music shall be sacred to you alone, and I shall play it for
no one else until I see your dear face again.
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