n her
voice grew true and steady and clear, shaken only by the poignant grief
of her song. Then there was no more ordeal, only a frail wisp of a
girl singing as he had never heard it the exile's plaint. David did
not quite know her. Up there in the loft, bathed in the mellow
radiance that had singled her out as if in prophecy, letting out to the
full, as she could not in the little parlor, a voice of power and
passion to thrill multitudes, she did not seem the girl who had made
music for him, who had offered him friendship in his loneliness. She
had grown as the occasion of her song had grown; she had become one of
the custodians of great talents, set apart to keep alive and reveal the
harmonies that men through centuries had been hearing and recording.
Quivering with joy in her triumph, he was abashed as well. He had too
easily accepted the friendship, so naively tendered. He had not
appraised it justly. . . . And then there was only the song. He was a
captive in a strange land and the ache of the exiled was in his heart.

". . . By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept."

He realized at last that she had ended. The ordeal was over; she had
passed through unscathed. He leaned back and smiled at the imprints of
nails in his palms. His eyes grew wet, but not with the exile's tears.
. . . When they had cleared, without his bidding they turned to where
Jonathan sat, whiskers crushed upon his breast.

It was a wonderful world through which David walked homeward that
Sabbath evening. He went by a roundabout way, that he might miss none
of it. He thrilled with a sense of victory, a song of thanksgiving was
in his heart. And from that he should have known what had happened to
him. But he was to have that hour perfect.

She was sitting on the porch when he came in sight of the house. She
may have been waiting for him. He quickened his pace.

He stood before her, smiling down into her shining eyes.

"A question of identity is disturbing me. I'm still hearing a certain
song--I think I can never forget it. Are you by any chance the singer?"

"As it happens, I sang a little this afternoon."

"Then the finest thing in the world has happened."

"Did I do pretty well?"

"Pretty well? Hmmm!" he considered the matter judicially. "Yes, I
think I may safely say that."

She laughed as though he had been very witty, then quickly became grave.

"Were you thinking hard for me at the first, when I al