"Sing to you, my dear? And what shall I sing to you? My voice isn't what it once was ... well, there's that old song—'Columbine,' I think they call it—that they always seem singing in the streets these days—that's got a pretty tune."
And in a voice, cracked and sweet, like an old spinet, she began to sing:
"When Aubrey did live there lived no poor.
The lord and the beggar on roots did dine
With lily, germander, and sops in wine.
With sweet-brier,
And bon-fire,
And strawberry-wire,
And columbine."
As she sang, Master Nathaniel again heard the Note. But, strange to say, this time it held no menace. It was as quiet as trees and pictures and the past, as soothing as the drip of water, as peaceful as the lowing of cows returning to the byre at sunset.