There are few things on earth more melancholy than when one is burdened with some evil news to see those whom it is destined to plunge into grief full of gay life and happiness, enjoying the bright moments as if there were nothing but pleasure in the world. There is something awful in it! It brings home to our own hearts the fearful fact that, at the very instant when we are at the height of joy, some remote, unseen, unknown, unexpected agents may be performing acts destined to blast our happiness for ever. There is something mysterious in it, too; for it shows us that at the very moment when our state is in reality the most miserable upon earth, we are often giving ourselves up to the most wild and rapturous gayety, solely because some other tongue has not spoken in our ear a few conventional sounds which the inhabitant of another land would not understand, but which, as soon as they are spoken, plunge us from the height of joy down into the depth of despair.
On the third morning of Colonel Manners's stay at Morley House, and on which he expected letters that would give him a fair excuse for abridging his visit, he rose as early, but came down somewhat later than usual. He still, however, expected to find himself earlier than the rest of the family; but on passing the music-room, the door of which was ajar, he heard the notes of a harpsichord--the solace and delight of our worthy ancestors--mingling with some gay voices talking; and, taking the prescriptive right of opening quite all half-opened doors, he walked in, and found Miss Falkland at the instrument, speaking cheerfully, over her shoulder, to Miss De Vaux, who stood behind.
A slight complaining cry on the part of the lazy hinges made both ladies turn their eyes towards it; and Isadore smiled as she did so, while a faint colour spread itself deepening over Marian's soft cheek--perhaps she might expect to see some one else than Colonel Manners, and be just sufficiently disappointed to say something civil and kind to him on his entrance, as a sort of compensation for the bad compliment she paid him at the bottom of her heart.
"Isadore was just talking of you, Colonel Manners," she said, looking towards her cousin, as if leaving her to explain in what manner.
"There is a proverb to that effect, madam," replied Manners, smiling; "but I am always glad to find myself subject of discourse to those I esteem, if the matter be not censure at least. May I be let into the secret?"
"Oh, beyond all doubt," replied Isadore. "The fact is, De Vaux betrayed you last night, Colonel Manners; and told me, without even binding me to secrecy, that you sing remarkably well."
"He did me injustice, I assure you," replied Manners; "but if that be 'the head and front of my offence,' I can prove myself innocent of singing remarkably well at any time you like."
"No time like the present, Colonel Manners," said Isadore. "It wants full half an hour to breakfast, and there is nothing on earth so painful as to live in long-drawn expectation of such things. Will you sing, Colonel Manners?"
"I believe," he replied, "that there is some superstitious penalty attached to singing before breakfast; but nevertheless I will dare the adventure if you have any music that I know, for the sin of accompanying myself I commit not."
"Do you know that?" asked Miss Falkland; "or that! or that?"