And Percy was there to watch them, though, from
some high words I overheard, I had judged that it was with difficulty
his mother had prevailed on him to come. I could not help thinking
myself, that two pairs of eyes met and parted rather oftener than any
other two pairs in the room; but I could find nothing to object.
"Now, Miss Cathcart, it is your turn to sing."
"Would you mind singing another of Heine's songs?" said the doctor,
as he offered his hand to lead her to the piano.
"No," she answered. "I will not sing one of that sort. It was not
liked last time. Perhaps what I do sing won't be much better though.
"The waters are rising and flowing
Over the weedy stone--
Over and over it going:
It is never gone.
"So joy on joy may go sweeping
Over the head of pain--
Over and over it leaping:
It will rise again."
"Very lovely, but not much better than what I asked for. In revenge, I
will give you one of Heine's that my brother translated. It always
reminds me, with a great difference, of one in In Memoriam, beginning:
_Dark house_."
So spake Harry, and sang:
"The shapes of the days forgotten
Out of their graves arise,
And show me what once my life was,
In the presence of thine eyes.
"All day through the streets I wandered,
As in dreams men go and come;
The people in wonder looked at me,
I was so mournful dumb.
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