Ben, striking a few chords, nodded to Dora, who, at the nod, opened her lips and broke forth in as sweet a voice as ever awoke the woodlands of Wisconsin into—Gounod’s Ave Maria.
Clarence was spellbound. He was exalted, carried out of himself. It was not the voice alone, though the voice was thrillingly sweet; not the music, though the air was one that holds music-lovers rapt the world over; not the accompaniment, though it was supremely exquisite in the sacred silence of the night. There was more than all this; faith, and love, and purity, and innocence—all springing from the heart of a child—supplied undertones beyond the reach of art that music could supply.
As the song proceeded, the rain began to fall, but the rain was heeded by none—not even by the little children. Towards the end, the down-pour grew heavy; but spellbound, no one moved. As the last note died into silence, there ensued a few breathless seconds; then came a burst of thunder and a forked prong of lightning which seemed to strike into their very midst. All jumped up and made for cover.
“Come with me,” said Ben, catching Clarence’s hand. “Your quarters will be in the wagon. She sings,” he added, “that song every night, and,” continued the musician, as he helped Clarence into his new sleeping quarters, “she sings it like an angel.”
“So she does.”
“And,” added Ben, in a whisper, “she is an angel.”
Ten minutes later Clarence was lying upon a bed of straw, and meditating upon the events of the most adventurous day in his life. Around him lay four gypsy men—Ezra, Pete’s two older sons, and Ben. But he was, to all intents and purposes, alone. And then in bitterness and sorrow the young adventurer wept salt tears and checked with difficulty the sighs of utter misery. He was captive; his parents were, he supposed, frantic with grief. Perhaps they thought him dead. And so Clarence, frightened and unnerved, wept freely.
Suddenly the quiet was broken. The same sweet voice, low and clear, trilled out from the little tent:
“Mother dear, O pray for me,
While far from heaven and thee