Dennis flushed as he replied: “I’ll tell you by-and-by,” and added: “Will you do me a great favor?”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Why,” answered Dennis, “I would like to hear you read bosom No. 2.”
“Why?”
“Well,” replied the young man, with a sincerity that was unmistakable, “I think it would sound like a song then.”
“Very well,” she assented, “let me have it”; and with a voice that reflected, to this young man’s ears, at least, at one moment the rippling of silver brooks, the trill of woodbirds, the sigh of zephyrs scented with daffodils, and the next the full, round resonance of an animated day in June, she read:
“Now!” exclaimed Gratz as the familiar click assured him that the handcuffs were in place, “now you can lower your hands and come over here.”
As the Sepoy advanced into the light, Gratz instructed Robert to pick up the remaining coins and restore them to the bag.
During all this time the Sepoy had not uttered a word, but his fierce eyes, which stared with savage intentness in the direction of the disk of light, from the rear of which issued that implacable voice, were vital with rage and impotent menace.