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Let's see Brahms's 'Wiegenlied. Cradle-song, eh? A little premature; that's coming later. Eh? Found it, by Jove! Here we are, the March itself, so help me! Shall I play it now?" "Not yet, Allan. Here, see what I've found!" She handed him a record as they sat there together in a broad ribbon of mid-morning sunlight that flooded down through one of the clearstory windows.
Darlington, with unusual abandon, "Rosamund has made a really marvelous advance marvelous. In that 'Wiegenlied' she reached high-water mark. No one could have sung it more perfectly. What has happened to her?" "Robin," said Dion, looking him full in the face, and speaking with almost stern conviction. "Robin?" said Mr. Darlington, with lifted eyebrows. Then people intervened.
It was, perhaps, also very characteristic that she made the statement with a perfectly quiet gravity which almost concealed the evidently tough inflexibility beneath. And then, when people were ready to go, Rosamund sung Brahm's "Wiegenlied." Dion stood beside Bruce Evelin while Rosamund was singing this.
In the carriage going home Rosamund was very happy. She confessed to the pleasure her success had given her. "I quite loved singing to-night," she said. "That song about Greece was for you." "I know, and the 'Wiegenlied' was for Robin." "Yes," she said. She was silent; then her voice came out of the darkness: "For Robin, but he didn't know it." "Some day he will know it."
As he did so he heard Rosamund's voice beginning to sing Brahms's "Wiegenlied" very softly. He guessed that she was singing to an audience of Robin. The bricks had been put away after the departure of Aunt Beattie, and now Robin was being sung towards sleep. How often would he be sung to by Rosamund in the future when his father would not be there to listen!
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