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Quaver, with Hans, Azalia, and Daphne near him. Mr. Quaver did not look round, neither did Miss Gamut, nor any of the old choir. They felt that the new-comers were intruders, who had no right there. The bell ceased its tolling, and Rev. Mr. Surplice ascended the pulpit-stairs. He was a venerable man.
She touched her sweet lips to his forehead, saying, "I have nothing else to give you for such a promise. Remember that it came from your old friend, Azalia." His heart was full. He had braved himself to say farewell to all his friends without shedding a tear, but his courage was faltering. How could he go, perhaps never to return! He wanted to say more.
There was a measure of time, the exact movement, the clear chord, swelling into full chorus, then becoming fainter, till it seemed like the murmuring of voices far away. How charming the duet! Where Mr. Quaver blared like a trumpet, Paul sang in clear, melodious notes; and where Miss Gamut broke down, Azalia glided so smoothly and sweetly that every heart was thrilled.
"I will," said Bob, who, as he thought it all over that night, and recalled the kind words, felt that Paul would be his best friend if he did right. "I must get Azalia and Daphne to help me make a man of Bob," said Paul to himself, "they can do what I can't." He called upon Azalia.
Azalia came tripping down the stairs. "Shall I see you home, Azalia?" Paul asked. "Miss Adams, shall I have the delightful pleasure of being permitted to escort you to your residence?" said Philip, with his most gallant air, at the same time pushing by Paul with a contemptuous look. "Thank you, Philip, but I have an escort," said Azalia, accepting Paul's arm.
"I wonder what Harry Gilbert meant when he said some of them were planning another surprise nearly as thrilling as the one they sprung last night," said Azalia Atwood, with characteristic excitable expectation. "He addressed himself to you, Marion, when he said it; and he's a close friend of your cousin, Clifford Long.
"You will get sick, my child. You have not strength to be a nurse in the hospital," said her mother, when Azalia told her that she must go and take care of the soldiers. "I cannot spare you, my daughter," said her father, tenderly taking her in his arms, and kissing her ruby lips. She was his only child, and he loved her dearly.
Knowing that my days are soon to cease, and that my well beloved daughter Azalia will come to rule in my place, I, filled with a desire that my kingdom be governed wisely and my beloved child wed worthily, decided to absent myself from the affairs of my realm and to journey out into the world that I might seek among the princes of the earth one who would be full of the promise of wisdom and of high courage.
"What do you say to that picture?" said Azalia, directing his attention towards a magnificent picture of Franklin crowned with laurel by the ladies of the court of France, which hung on the wall. "Benjamin Franklin was a poor boy, and dipped candles for a living; but he became a great man." "Dipped candles!
Alarmed and frightened at she knew not what, she brushed back the matted hair from his temples, and laid her hand upon his brow, cold and damp with the dews of death. The soldier opened his eyes, looked into her face, stared wildly around him, and tried to speak. It was but one word, and that a whisper, her own name, "Azalia!"
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