"A thousand thanks," said he, "for this amiable compliance! I hail it as the harbinger of harmony that shall rise from all our hearts in sweet accord to heaven."
Rosalind coloured, and her heart whispered, "I will not be a hypocrite." But she had agreed to sing, and she prepared to do so, seeking among her volumes for one of the easiest and shortest of Handel's songs, and determined when she had finished to make her escape.
While she was thus employed, however, Mr. Cartwright was equally active in turning over the leaves of his pocket companion; and before Miss Torrington had made her selection, he placed the tiny manuscript volume open upon the instrument, saying, "There, my dear young lady! this is an air, and these are words which we may all listen to with equal innocence and delight."
Rosalind was provoked; but every one in the room had already crowded round the piano, and having no inclination to enter upon any discussion, she sat down prepared to sing whatever was placed before her.
The air was undeniably a popular one, being no other than "Fly not yet!" which, as all the world knows, has been performed to millions of delighted listeners, in lofty halls and tiny drawing-rooms, and, moreover, ground upon every hand-organ in Great Britain for many years past. Rosalind ran her eyes over the words, which, in fair feminine characters, were written beneath the notes as follow:
Fly not yet! 'Tis just the hour
When prayerful Christians own the power
That, inly beaming with new light,
Begins to sanctify the night
For maids who love the moon.
Oh, pray!—oh, pray!
'Tis but to bless these hours of shade
That pious songs and hymns are made;
For now, their holy ardour glowing,
Sets the soul's emotion flowing.
Oh, pray!—oh, pray!
Prayer so seldom breathes a strain
So sweet as this, that, oh! 'tis pain
To check its voice too soon.
Oh, pray!—oh, pray!
An expression of almost awful indignation rose to the eyes of Rosalind. "Do you give me this, sir," she said, "as a jest?—or do you propose that I should sing it as an act of devotion?"
Mr. Cartwright withdrew the little book and immediately returned it to his pocket.