Once or twice he looked back; but his pursuer was on the other side of the way, and quite well backed by the black paling which, when he stooped a very little, was above his head.
This was the state of things, when suddenly a wild plaintive voice broke the stillness of the night air; and, with a mockery of gaiety, that had in it the very soul of pathos, sang or rather chaunted the words of a song of joy, hope, and mirth, which was then popular in the metropolis, and was the composition of one of the most distinguished wits of the day.
There was a wild abandonment of manner about the singer, that would have commanded the attention of Sir Frederick at any time; but now that he saw the smith suddenly pause, he paused likewise, and the strains with all their melancholy pathos came full upon his ear.
To the Bride! To the Bride!
“To the Bride! To the Bride,
I sing,
And away to the winds the strain
I fling.
There’s a tear in her gentle eye,
I trow—