"And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature."
"I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song."
"I should so much rather you asked me yourself."
"That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I _do_ ask you."
"And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?" asked he, approaching the piano, to which she also walked.
"Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it here about a week ago," she answered.
"I know it--yes, with pleasure." And he sat down at the piano, and in a clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd song:--
"The autumn leaf was falling At midnight from the tree, When at her casement calling, 'I'm here, my love,' says he. 'Come down and mount behind me, And rest your little head, And in your white arms wind me, Before that I be dead.
"'You've stolen my heart by magic, I've kissed your lips in dreams: Our wooing wild and tragic Has been in ghostly scenes. The wondrous love I bear you Has made one life of twain, And it will bless or scare you, In deathless peace or pain.
"'Our dreamland shall be glowing, If you my bride will be; To darkness both are going, Unless you come with me. Come now, and mount behind me, And rest your little head, And in your white arms wind me, Before that I be dead.'"
"Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when you know that Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not only charming, but cheery and natural?"
"It is because it is _un_natural that I like that song so much; the air is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I think the idea is Icelandic--those ghostly lovers that came in the dark to win their beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing of their having died, to ride with them over the snowy fields and frozen rivers, to join their friends at a merry-making which they were never to see; but there is something more mysterious even in this lover, for his passion has unearthly beginnings that lose themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much, Mr. Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May, isn't it your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?"
"Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, and have it," said he, in a low impassioned murmur.
How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but all were suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant entered with a note, which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr. Longcluse.