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: I have told you the story of your father many many times. Flora
: Oh, tell me again! Was he a teacher? Ada
: Yes. Flora
: How did you speak to him? Ada
: I didn't need to speak. I could lay thoughts out in his mind like they were a sheet. Flora
: Why didn't you get married? Ada
: He became frightened and stopped listening.
: The voice you hear is not my speaking voice - -but my mind's voice. I have not spoken since I was six years old. No one knows why - -not even me. My father says it is a dark talent, and the day I take it into my head to stop breathing will be my last. Today he married me to a man I have not yet met. Soon my daughter and I shall join him in his own country. My husband writes that my muteness does not bother him - and hark this! He says, "God loves dumb creatures, so why not I?" 'Twere good he had God's patience, for silence affects everyone in the end. The strange thing is, I don't think myself silent. That is because of my piano. I shall miss it on the journey.
: What a death! What a chance! What a surprise! My will has chosen life! Still it has had me spooked and many others besides!
: George has fashioned me a metal finger tip, I am quite the town freak which satisfies!
: At night! I think of my piano in its ocean grave, and sometimes of myself floating above it. Down there everything is so still and silent that it lulls me to sleep. It is a weird lullaby and so it is; it is mine.
: There is a silence where hath been no sound / There is a silence where no sound may be / In the cold grave, under the deep deep sea. -Thomas Hood...
: [speaking to Aunt Morag
] My mother met my father when she was an opera singer in Luxembourg. Ada
] That's enough. Flora