These were love-songs
for the most part that she was playing; but that was neither here nor
there; the soft, rippling notes were more like the sound of a trickling
waterfall in some still summer solitude. "_Cannetella, oje Cannete!_"
"_Chello che tu me dice, Nenna, non boglio fa._" "_Io te voglio bene
assaje, e tu non pienz' a me!_" He would know it was Nina who was
playing for him--until slowly and more slowly, and gently and more
gently, the velvet-soft notes gradually ceased, and at length there was
silence.
Old Mrs. Moore went over to the girl and patted her affectionately on
the shoulder and kissed her.
"Lionel has told us a great deal about you," the old lady said; "even
when he was in Naples we seemed to know you quite well; and now I hope
we shall be friends."
And Nina made answer, with downcast eyes:
"Whenever you wish it, madame, I shall be glad to come and play a
little--if he cares to hear the Neapolitan airs that he used to know in
former days."
Yes, there was no doubt that this opportune visit had made a great
difference in Lionel's condition; for, though the fever did not
abate--and could not be expected to abate until the crisis had been
reached, there were no more of those agonized pleadings and murmurings
that showed such deep distress of mind.
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