"I prefer to stay with you, sir," was the answer. The old man looked from his son to his wife gratefully, and murmuring, "Thank you baith," he fainted away.
Tenderly they lifted him to a couch, and he soon responded to the remedies applied; but Janet gave him a soothing draught, and they sat the afternoon through, watching him. They could hear the joyful acclaims—the shouts and songs of a redeemed people—the noise of a multitude giving itself to a tumultuous joy; but the real gladness of grateful hearts was by the rekindled hearth fires. Fathers and mothers at home again! After seven years' wandering, they knew what Home meant. Their houses were dismantled, but they had Liberty! Their gardens were destroyed, their shade trees burnt, but they had Liberty! Their churches were desecrated, but they had Liberty! Their trade was gone, their fair city mutilated and blackened with fire, her streets torn up, and her wharfs decayed, but thank God, they had Liberty! Never again would they be the subjects of any king, or the victims of any imposed tyranny. They were free men. They had won their freedom, and they who have once tasted of the sharp, strong wine of Freedom will drink thereof forever.
These events occurred exactly one hundred and eighteen years ago, but those who happen to be in that lovely country which lies between Yorkshire and Lancashire can find in Medway Castle one frail memento of them. A little diplomacy and a little coin of the realm dropped into the keeper's hand will procure them admittance. And after viewing its rooms of state, its splendid library, and its picture gallery, they may seek a little room toward the sunrising, called "the Lady Maria's parlor." Its furniture of crimson satin is faded now, but it doubtless suited well the dark beauty so well depicted in a large portrait of her, that is one of the ornaments of the east wall. The portrait of her husband, Lord Ernest Medway, is near to it, but between them is a sheet of ordinary writing paper, yellow with age, but still keeping a legible copy of three verses and the pretty, simple, old tune to which they were sung. It is the original copy of "The Song of a Single Note," the song they sang together at Nicholas Bayard's summer entertainment one hundred and twenty-one years ago. Lord Medway always said it was an enchanted song, and that, as its melodious tones fell from his lady's lips, they charmed his heart away and gave it to her forever.
And if other lovers would learn this fateful melody, why here is a copy of it. If they sing it but once together, it may be that they will sing it as long as they live:
"For through the sense, the song shall fit
The soul to understand."
A SONG OF A SINGLE NOTE.
