They dined and tea’d together, and adjourned to the drawing-room, where, at Mrs. Lyon’s command, Drusilla sat down to the piano and sang to her own accompaniment on the instrument the all glorious “Te Deum.”
Alexander was enraptured. It is scarcely too much to say that he was transported—listening to the heavenly notes of her voice and gazing on the inspired beauty of her face. As for her she seemed all unconscious of everything around her, as though her soul were winging its way to Heaven in those strains of divine music.
When the last notes of her voice died away, there was silence in the room for some moments. It was gently broken by Alexander murmuring in her ear:
“My child, sacred music is your forte. Consecrate your glorious gift to the worship of the Most High.”
Drusilla bowed her head; and after a few moments said:
“They want me to sing in the choir of St. John’s church. Would you like me to do so?”
“My child, that must be as you please. Would you like it?”
“Indeed I do not know until I hear your will,” she murmured.
“Then I will you to sing there,” he smiled.
“And I am sure I shall like it,” she said. “And now shall I sing the Hallelujah for you, and will you help me? There should be four voices, though.”