The fair girl now tossed her golden curls back over her shoulders, and began singing one of the most solemn and melancholy of pieces, to her own accompaniment. Her voice was indeed full of sweetness, and she could sing with some skill and effect; but she was just at this time more inclined to play on Mr. Gusher's feelings than to do justice to her musical talent.
"There's something sweet and touching in this melancholy music, I like it, Mr. Gusher," she said, pausing and looking up in his face tantalizingly; "don't you?"
Mr. Gusher shook his head disapprovingly, and shrugged his shoulders. "No, no, miz; I nevare like ze funeral music. I go to ze funeral of my friend wiz music like zat."
"I am very sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Gusher. I play it whenever mother will let me. And I enjoy it so much. Reminds me of a dear young friend now far away."
"Now, miz, I makes my discovery," returned Mr. Gusher, turning over a leaf of the music, and looking enquiringly into Mattie's face. "Zat young friend, so far away, wiz his memory so near ze heart. Well, I shall think no more of zat. You shall zee I shall make my compliments, and shall cut out zat one young friend what is so far away. You shall zing me some grand music, so full of ze love, and ze poetry, so as my heart shall lift up wiz joy." Here Mr. Gusher flourished his hands and executed several waltzing steps, as an expression of how his feelings were excited by music.
Mattie turned suddenly around to witness this peculiar exhibition, when Tite's letter fell from her bosom to the floor.
"Ze revelation! Ze re-ve-la—what shall I say? If I only speak ze Englis so good as you, now!" exclaimed Gusher, affecting a loud laugh. And stooping down quickly, he attempted to seize the missive. Mattie was too quick for him. Regaining possession of it she restored it carefully to her bosom, an expression of joy and triumph lighting up her countenance.
Disappointment now took possession of Mr. Gusher's feelings. His manner indicated what his heart felt. Never before had his expectations and his ambition been so lowered, or his vanity so exposed. He had expected to find a beautiful, simple-minded country girl, ready with hand and heart to become a willing captive to his charms. And yet he had failed to make the slightest impression on her. Nor was that all. Her heart and her thoughts were evidently engaged in another direction. What, he enquired of himself, could her mother have meant by the encouragement she gave him to visit her home and see her daughter? His curiosity to find out who it was that held such possession of this beautiful girl's affections was now excited to the highest pitch.