Strange to say, the little Leota swayed the grandmother as absolutely as she had ruled the dwarf and Crimson Tuft, but in one respect the old woman was resolute, the heavy gate was locked as securely upon Leota as upon the other inmates of the mansion, and no persuasion could induce her to change in this regard.
Leota was passionately fond of music, and played the harp very sweetly.
Once in the still hours of night, she was awakened by the notes of her own harp vibrating in the most exquisite harmony.
She was filled with delight though she trembled with fear, for she was quite sure there was no one in the house who knew any thing of music but herself, yet the chords were swept as by a master’s hand.
She lay motionless until the last note died away, and it was long before she fell asleep, for the spell of the rich melodies still floated through the air around her. In the morning she spoke of it, but no one could explain the mystery. Again and again, in the silent hours came the rich melody, not old familiar airs, but the exquisite improvisations of genius.
One night, when the golden moon was casting its soft amber light over land and sea, and the enchanted harp sending forth its entrancing strains, Leota rose softly from her couch, and summoning all her courage, determined herself to solve the mystery. She glided quietly along the passage-way to the large glass door of the parlor, and there she saw Crimson Tuft bending fondly over the harp, and calling out the bewildering melody that she had thought could be born only of mystical enchantment. The imagination of the young girl was so vivid that she was easily prepared for things supernatural, but to see poor brown Crimson Tuft, the great magician, he, the slave, of whom she thought only to laugh at--this was stranger than all.
The soft moonlight fell full upon his face, and his large luminous eyes were dewy with the spirit of the rich melody. With the rare beauty that was all their own, they almost redeemed the brown skin and flaming hair from positive ugliness. Leota stood entranced till the last note died out of the thrilled chords of the trembling harp, then, as she turned to go, the rustling of her robe caused Crimson Tuft to raise his eyes, and they fell full upon her face, to him at least the most beautiful face in the world. He was covered with deep confusion. Over his redeeming eyes fell the heavy red lashes, and the ugly brows contracted.