"He's not at all strong," replied Miss Cassy, taking the remark to herself, "quite like a candle you know--so odd--might go out at any moment--but Dr. Nestley is doing him good; but I don't think the dear doctor is well himself."
Beaumont smiled slightly at this, guessing the cause of the doctor's illness, and glancing at Cecilia, saw the blind girl was trembling violently.
"I hope he is not very ill," she said in her low, clear voice.
"Oh no--he'll be all right soon--I think it's overwork," said Una hastily, anxious to avoid any discussion of the doctor's complaint, the cause of which she, with her feminine shrewdness, half guessed. "Cecilia, will you play something?"
The blind girl assented, and was led by Una to the quaint old spinet which stood in the corner. With the true feelings of an artist Cecilia did not play anything noisy on the delicate instrument, but a dainty old gavotte which sounded faint and clear like the sound of a silver bell. All the company were charmed with the delicacy of the music except Miss Cassy and Mrs. Larcher who were conversing about dress.
"I hope you like mine," observed Miss Cassy, looking at the gown she wore, which was of white muslin dotted with pink bows. "I was afraid I'd make it dabby--I'm afraid I have made it dabby--do you think so?"
Mrs. Larcher eyed the production of Miss Cassy's artistic nature with a critical eye, and pronounced her opinion that it was dabby, thus reducing poor Miss Cassy to the verge of tears. When Cecilia finished the gavotte all present urged her to play something else.
"It's like fairy music," said Beaumont. "I love to hear those old airs of Purcell and Arne played upon such an instrument. It's so thoroughly in keeping with the idea. The lyrics in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' set to the old-fashioned music and played on a spinet, gives one a charming idea of the court of Oberon and Titania."
"And Miss Mosser plays so charmingly," said Reginald, gaily.
"'O testudinis aureæ
Dulcem quæ strepitum Pieri temperas,'"