‘A few more such dreams would make you a rare composer,’ said Glastonbury, smiling.
‘Ah! my dear Glastonbury, talking of music, I know a musician, such a musician, a musician whom I should like to introduce you to above all persons in the world.’
‘You always loved music, dear Ferdinand; ‘tis in the blood. You come from a musical stock on your mother’s side. Is Miss Grandison musical?’
‘Yes, no, that is to say, I forget: some commonplace accomplishment in the art she has, I believe; but I was not thinking of that sort of thing; I was thinking of the lady who taught me this air.’
‘A lady!’ said Glastonbury. ‘The German ladies are highly cultivated.’
‘Yes! the Germans, and the women especially, have a remarkably fine musical taste,’ rejoined Ferdinand, recovering from his blunder.
‘I like the Germans very much,’ said Glastonbury, ‘and I admire that air.’
‘O! my dear Glastonbury, you should hear it sung by moonlight.’
‘Indeed!’ said Glastonbury.
‘Yes, if you could only hear her sing it by moonlight, I venture to say, my dear Glastonbury, that you would confess that all you had ever heard, or seen, or imagined, of enchanted spirits floating in the air, and filling the atmosphere with supernatural symphonies, was realised.’