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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

She
who played them felt their majesty and purity. She lifted her beaming
eye to heaven as she played, and the color receded from her cheek; and
when her enchantment ended she was silent, and all were silent, and
their ears ached for the departed charm.
Then she looked round a mute inquiry.
Talboys applauded loudly.
But the tear stood in David's eye, and he said nothing.
"Well, David," said Eve, reproachfully, "I'm sure if that does not
please you--"
"Please me," cried David, a little fretfully; "more shame for me if it
does not. Please is not the word. It is angel music, I call it--ah!"
"Well, you need not break your heart for that: he is going to cry--ha!
ha!"
"I'm no such thing," cried David, indignantly, and blew his
nose--promptly, with a vague air of explanation and defiance.
But why the male of my species blows its nose to hide its sensibility
a deeper than I must decide.
Mr. Talboys for some time had not been at his ease. He had been
playing too, and an instrument he hated--second fiddle. He rose and
joined Mr. Fountain, who was sitting half awake on a distant sofa.
"Aha!" thought Eve, exulting, "we have driven him away."
Judge her mortification when Lucy, after shutting the piano, joined
her uncle and Mr. Talboys. Eve whispered David: "Gone to smooth him
down: the high and mighty gentleman wasn't made enough of."
"Every one in their turn," said David, calmly; "that is manners. Look!
it is the old gentleman she is being kind to.


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