You will not, I conclude, imagine that I remember these songs only from having heard them that night, especially as they have very little merit; but the truth is, I was so pleased with them, because I fancied them applicable to my own feelings, that I requested them of the gentlemen who sung, and they were given to me.
Lord Charles meanwhile listened to the singing with great impatience, as he had had enough of the company, which was very numerous, and by no means as select as it had been before. Indeed at one table were many persons in whom the observant eye of Lord Charles discovered associates whose evident vulgarity made him feel himself out of his place. However, he could not presume to break up the party; and as our indefatigable host and hostess still kept forcing the talents of their guests into their service, song succeeded to song, and duet to duet. From one of the latter, however, sung by a lady and gentleman, I at length derived a soothing feeling; and in one moment, an observation of Seymour's, with, as I fancied, a correspondent and intended expression of countenance, removed a load from my heart, and my clouded brow became consciously to myself unclouded again.
The words of this healing duet were as follows:—
| DUET. |
|---|
| "Say, why art thou pensive, beloved of my heart? |
| Indeed I am happy wherever thou art: |
| My eyes I confess toward others may rove, |
| But never, believe me, with wishes of love. |
| And trust me, however my glances may roam, |
| Of them, and my heart, thou alone art the home!" |
| ANSWER. |
|---|
| "Perhaps I am wrong thus dejected to be; |
| But my faithful eyes never wander from thee. |
| On beauty and youth I unconsciously gaze, |
| No thought, no emotion in me they can raise; |
| And ah! if thine eyes get the habit to roam, |
| How can I be certain they'll ever come home?" |
| "Oh! trust thy own charms! See the bee as he flies, |
| And visits each blossom of exquisite dies; |
| There culls of their sweetness some store for his cell; |
| But short are his visits, and prompt his farewell; |
| For still he remembers, howe'er he may roam, |
| That hoard of delight which awaits him at home. |
| "Then trust me, however thy Henry may roam, |
| I feel my best pleasures await me at home." |
| "I'll try to believe, howsoever thou roam, |
| Thy heart's dearest pleasures await thee at home." |
"That is a charming duet," cried Seymour when it was ended. Then leaning behind Lady Martindale and Lord Charles, and calling to me, he said, with a look from which my conscious eye shrunk, "Helen, I admire the sentiment of that duet. I think, my love, we will get it—we should sing it con amore, should we not?" I could not look at him as I replied, "I could, I am sure."
"Silly girl," he added in a low and kind tone, "and so, I am sure, could I."
I then ventured to raise my eyes to his; and his expression was such, that I felt quite a different creature, and was able to enjoy the rest of the evening.
But why do I enter into these minute and unimportant details? Let me efface them—but no, perhaps they may chance to meet the eyes of some whose hearts have felt the anxieties and the vicissitudes of mine, and to them they may be interesting.
Lord Martindale was now requested to favour the company with a song, and with great good nature he instantly complied;—while Lord Charles whispered across me to my mother, "What a disgrace that fellow is to the peerage!"