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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Sweet, must I envy that violin?" He felt her heart beating wildly against his own, their arms closed around each other convulsively. The sweetness of the music-laden, flower-scented air filled his senses. "God! how I love you!" he said. A frightened look came into her eyes, and she struggled, for a moment, futilely. "Let me go!" she whispered; "let me go!"
With a few touches Mendelssohn makes us see the delightful ease and comfort of this royal interior, the Queen gathering up the sheets of music strewn by the wind over the floor the Prince cleverly managing the organ-stops so as to suit the master while he played the mighty rocking-horse and the two birdcages beside the music-laden piano in the Queen's own sitting-room, beautiful with pictures and richly-bound books the pretty difficulty about her finding some of Mendelssohn's own songs to sing to him, since her music was packed up and taken away to Claremont her naïve confession that she had been "so frightened" at singing before the master, all are chronicled with not less zest and affection than the graceful gift of a valuable ring "as a remembrance" to the artist from the Queen, through Prince Albert.
To offer a man an eternity of music-laden rest is to offer him a poor thing. He would rather have his going out and his coming in. Yes, and he shall have them. All that is purest and best in them shall remain. Hereafter he shall still go out to find deeper joys of living and wider visions of life; still come in to greater and ever greater thoughts of God. Trust in Him at all times, ye people.
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