Emmeline.

The exquisite segue of deft legerity, as it girded the congruent tones of instrumental fortitude, into those wondrous flourishes, of composition, was complimented, by the synovial ebb of Emmeline's song. It was a melancholic quell of surrender, dancing about, in chatoyant drapes, with seductive mesmerism, as its weapon. I may never have known that, the contrast of a finessed jaunty cadence and the soft ghostly howls of the fair lady, would augment the otherwise sufficient expediency, of feasible arrangement. It was delightfully novel, but the anguish of unrequited dotage, still engulfed, my bosom, like an augmenting cancer, and soon I would yield to the sepulchre of disconsolate misery. Emmeline was fair, as the Edenic spawn of verdure in the dawning summer, with long blond tresses crowning an oval museau and honeydew almond eyes. The thin lips had a pleasing, sensitive curvature, and her nose, was a dimunitive aquiline. Her person was altogether denotive of a lily-handed sylph, and adorned in a minimalistic white garment. She often caressed her swan like neck, in the midst of her song, which pardoned me, an indulgence of her pendant. It was quite the piece I must say, but I could not completely fathom its form, from the audience. Sometimes she twirled it, as if culling some forbidden rune, but at length my scrutiny, became a mere perfunctory devotion, and it was at all times in vain. I inquired of her lore, for I was deeply in love with her, but she was at this time mysterious, as Catherine Cookson's literature on the Maltese Angel. In the end, upon one of the nights she performed, with her lads, in the city hall, I approached her with earnest, impervious to the enjoined guards, in her proximity, and was met with hostility. It was not long before I was permitted some commune with the woman, but she did not speak, she instead offered me her pendant, and cupped my cheek, before receding. I cannot forget, her dewy eyes, when she regarded me, as if having repressed some, voluminous sentiment, in her soul. When I returned to my abode, flummoxed and weary, I inspected the pendant and realized it could be opened. It was then, that I found two miniature photographs. It was that of Emmeline and I, dressed, just as we were, the night I procured the pendant.