"
"Perhaps she's afraid of letting him out a little,
of sharing him with somebody."
Wilson put down his cup and looked up
with vague alarm. "Dear me, it takes a woman
to think of that, now! I don't, you know,
think we ought to be hard on her. More,
even, than the rest of us she didn't choose her
destiny. She underwent it. And it has left her
chilled. As to her not wishing to take the
world into her confidence--well, it is a pretty
brutal and stupid world, after all, you know."
Hilda leaned forward. "Yes, I know, I know.
Only I can't help being glad that there was
something for him even in stupid and vulgar people.
My little Marie worshiped him. When she is dusting
I always know when she has come to his picture."
Wilson nodded. "Oh, yes! He left an echo.
The ripples go on in all of us.
He belonged to the people who make the play,
and most of us are only onlookers at the best.
We shouldn't wonder too much at Mrs. Alexander.
She must feel how useless it would be to
stir about, that she may as well sit still;
that nothing can happen to her after Bartley."
"Yes," said Hilda softly, "nothing can
happen to one after Bartley."
They both sat looking into the fire.
**End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of
**Alexander's Bridge, by Willa Cather**
Here is a copy of "The Barrel Organ" by Alfred Noyes,
who was also the author of "The Highwayman."
THE BARREL ORGAN
by Alfred Noyes
THE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM ELECTRONIC EDITION, 1988
There's a barrel-organ caroling across a golden street,
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet
And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;
And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain
That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light;
And they've given it a glory and a part to play again
In the Symphony that rules the day and the night.
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