See
the harp in her hand, observe her rapt attitude-- she is listening to
melody-- she hears, she rejoices, and yet the harp out of which she
makes music only possesses one string-- all the rest are broken." Miss
Heath said nothing further, and Prissie scarcely took in the full
meaning of the picture that evening. Now she looked again, and a
passionate agony swept over her. "Hope has one string still left to
her harp with which she can play music," murmured the young girl; "but
oh! there are times when all the strings of the harp are broken. Then
Hope dies."
The room door was opened and the servant reappeared.
"I am very sorry, miss," she said, "but Miss Heath has gone out for
the morning. Would you like to see any one else?"
Priscilla gazed at the messenger in a dull sort of way. "I can't see
Miss Heath?" she murmured.
"No, miss, she is out."
"Very well."
"Can I do anything for you, miss?"
"No, thank you."
The servant went away with a puzzled expression on her face.
"That plain young lady, who is so awful poor-- Miss Peel, I mean--
seems in a sad taking," she said by and by to her fellow-servants.
Priscilla, left alone in Miss Heath's sitting-room, stood still for a
moment, then running usptairs to her room, she put on her hat and
jacket and went out.
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