“Tell her teachers that I do not wish and will not permit, Drusilla to learn opera music or love songs. Let her confine herself to sacred music only.”
“But Alick, my son, how absurd! I am particular enough, the dear knows, but I don’t see any harm in good opera music. All young ladies learn it, and you desired that she should learn all that young ladies do.”
“I was hasty; and now I say that she must give up opera music and such like. Let her learn and practice sacred music to her heart’s content and her soul’s salvation. Let music be the means, not of drawing her affections down to earthly follies, but of fixing them more steadfastly upon heavenly things.”
“Alick, you do astonish me.”
“I astonish myself, sometimes.”
“Pray have you got religion, as the phrase goes?”
“No; I wish to the Lord I had. But I want her to have it. Mother!” he said, with sudden energy, going towards the old lady, “you don’t know how I love that child; you can’t feel how I love her—how near and dear she seems to me—how near and dear she has always seemed since I first looked into her soft, sweet, patient eyes.”
“I believe you love her as much as if you were her father.”
“Her father! well, I suppose my affection for her has something paternal in it, but fathers seldom love their daughters as I love her. Instance: Fathers are willing to give their daughters away in marriage, but I am very sure that I would rather see Drusilla dead than married.”
The old lady stared at the young man, utterly unable to comprehend him. He continued: