. Under false colours . MISS DYSART. HEEEY, still sitting by the open window, drewfarther back into the shade, and had eyes andthoughts for Miss Effingham alone. There was a deep hush in the room. The shades hadbeen removed from two of the lamps, and they were placedso that the light fell full upon the face and figure of theactress. She stood for a moment silent and motionless;and then in her clear voice, slowly and quietly, she spokethe first lines of a simple poem that told a very commonstory. It was not the poem that one would have expected herto recite to a fashionable audience in a drawin
. Under false colours . MISS DYSART. HEEEY, still sitting by the open window, drewfarther back into the shade, and had eyes andthoughts for Miss Effingham alone. There was a deep hush in the room. The shades hadbeen removed from two of the lamps, and they were placedso that the light fell full upon the face and figure of theactress. She stood for a moment silent and motionless;and then in her clear voice, slowly and quietly, she spokethe first lines of a simple poem that told a very commonstory. It was not the poem that one would have expected herto recite to a fashionable audience in a drawing-room;but Miss Effingham was a genius, and (what is more im-portant still) a genius who was recognized by the was therefore privileged to do unexpected things, andif she took it into her head to repeat half a dozen versesabout an Irish emigrant, her listeners were as ready to. 498 MISS EFFINGHAM GIVES A DRAWING-ROOM RECITATION. f THE EECITATION. *71 applaud that simple narrative in rhyme as if it had beenthe finest production of Tennyson or Browning. Moreover every one knows that the unexpected has astrange charm. And as she went on there were fewpresent who did not forget the drawing-room altogether;lamps and statues and pictures faded away, and they sawonly the lonely man, resting on the stile in the light of afair May morning. The lark was singing; the corn wasspringing fresh and green; and the spire of the littlechurch rose up among the trees. She went on, putting her own soul into the lines, andthe hearts of her hearers were stirred within them, andtears filled their eyes. I thank you for the patient smile When your heart was fit to break,When the hunger pain was gnawing there, And you hid it for my sake ;I bless you for the pleasant word When your heart was sad and sore—Oh, Im thankful you are gone, Mary, Where grief cant reach you more ! These we
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectchildrensstoriesengl
