"Indeed, I do," replied Mrs. Hamilton, earnestly. "If a child be allowed leisure to choose its own pursuits, and not always confined to the routine of a school-room, natural taste for some employment in preference to another will, I think, always display itself. Not that I would depend entirely on that, because I think it right and useful to cultivate a taste for all the fine arts, only giving more time to that which is the favorite. My niece has shown no decided taste for any particular pursuit yet; but I do not neglect the cultivation of accomplishments on that account; if, in a few years, a preference manifests itself, it will be quite time enough to work hard at that particular branch."
"Is that pretty little harp used by either of your daughters?" inquired the first speaker. "It looks very much as if it were the especial property of my engaging little friend."
"Your guess is correct," replied Mrs. Hamilton, smiling "Emmeline was quite sure she should hate music, if she must learn the great ugly piano. If she might only have a harp, she would do all she could to learn, and she really has."
"And may we not hear her?"
"When the room is not quite so full: she has not half her sister's confidence, and so large an audience would frighten away all her little powers; but I will promise you a very sweet song instead," she added, as Herbert approached, and eagerly whispered some request. "That is, if my persuasions can prevail on my young friend; Mrs. Greville, must I ask your influence, or will mine be enough?"
"What, with Mary? I rather think, your request in this case will be of more weight than mine;" and a few minutes afterward Mrs. Hamilton led the blushing, timid girl in triumph to the piano. Her voice, which was peculiarly sweet and thrilling, though not strong, trembled audibly as she commenced; but Herbert was turning over the leaves of her music, his mother was standing close beside her, and after the first few bars her enthusiastic spirit forgot the presence of all, save those she loved, and the spirit of her song.
Mrs. Hamilton never listened to and looked at her at such moments without a trembling foreboding she vainly struggled to overcome. There was something in those deep blue, earnest eyes, the hectic color that with the least exertion rose to her cheek, the transparency of complexion, the warm and elevated spirit, the almost angel temper and endurance in her peculiarly tried lot, that scarcely seemed of earth; and never was that sad foreboding stronger than at that moment, as she looked round the crowd of young and happy faces, and none seemed to express the same as Mary's. She could scarcely command her voice and smile sufficiently to warmly thank her young favorite as she ceased; but Mary was more than satisfied by the fond pressure of her hand.
This little interruption to the actual business of the evening only increased the zest and enjoyment, when dancing recommenced. Even the call to supper was obeyed with reluctance, and speedily accomplished, that they might return the sooner to the ball-room. The hours had worn away, it seemed, on gossamer-wings, and as each happy child felt assured that the delight could not last much longer, the longing to dance to the very last moment seemed to increase. Emmeline's excitable spirit had thrown off all alloy, for it was quite impossible any one would think of asking her to play now; she had arranged all the remaining couples—for the room had begun very much to thin—for the favorite haymaker's country dance,[2] and accepting Edward as her own partner, and being unanimously desired to take the top, led off her young friends with such spirit and grace, and so little semblance of fatigue, that it certainly appeared as if she would verify her own words, and dance all night.
Miss Grahame had declared it was much too great a romp, and declined joining it. Caroline, who would have enjoyed it, more out of politeness to her friend than inclination, sat down with her, and a cheerful group of some of the older lads, and one or two young ladies, joined them. Herbert and Mary finding the quadrille for which they were engaged, changed to a dance for which, though they had quite the spirit, they had not the physical strength, enjoyed a quiet chat instead, and Ellen seated herself by her favorite Mary, declining, from fatigue, Alfred Greville's entreaty that she would second Emmeline.
"I declare I could dance myself with that merry group," exclaimed Mr. Grahame, after watching them some time, and all his austerity banished by the kindly spirit of the evening. "Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Greville, do one of you take pity on me, and indulge my fancy."