It was the local tenor.

He sang to us a song of love.
Misunderstandings had arisen; bitter words, regretted as soon as uttered, had pierced the all too sensitive spirit.

Parting had followed.

The broken-hearted one had died believing his affection unrequited.

But the angels had since told him; he knew she loved him now--the accent on the now.
I glanced around me.