But Jack was wild, delirious with joy, and he pulled, heart and soul, his great, strong arms bare to the elbows.
“What a lovely night!” said Lady Bell. “Won’t anybody sing?”
Of course no one replied.
“Sing something, my dear child,” she said to Una. “You have a singing face. You have no idea how beautiful it sounds on the water.”
“Oh, no, no,” said Una, shrinking modestly.
Jack looked up.
“Sing,” he murmured, pleadingly. As if he had uttered a command, she looked at him with meek obedience, and began the song he had heard her singing in the forest.
Is there anything more exquisite on earth than the voice of a young girl? Una knew nothing of the science of song; she had had no master, no instruction of any sort; but her voice was clear and musical as a young thrush’s and she sang straight from her heart.
No need to tell Jack to pull slower! He ceased rowing, and rested on his oar, his eyes fixed on her face, his lips half apart.
The other boats stopped also as the music of the sweet, young voice floated down the stream, and one and all felt the spell.