"Thank you, Colonel, for the word. I know his record; and I assure you as a soldier's daughter, as well as a soldier's wife, I shall never stand in his way."
She stood very erect, but she dashed a tear away as the words flashed from her lips.
"Nobly said," was Sir George's comment as the General and the other ladies joined them. Harold had purposely wandered off to the far end of the room to inspect some ancient weapons, of which Sir Charles had a valuable collection. But he returned in time to hear their hostess ask her niece to sing.
"I cannot sing to-night as the linnets sing," she replied with a half sad, half mischievous glance at Harold, "but as my heart tells me."
"That is what we want, dearest," he whispered.
Seating herself at the piano, her fingers ran lightly over the keys. Then, in a rich contralto voice, she poured out Goethe's favorite, "To the Chosen One." There was the beauty of passion in every line of the first verse:
"Hand in hand! and lip to lip! Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! Fare-thee-well! thy lover's ship Past full many a rock must steer; But should he the haven see When the storm has ceased to break, And be happy, reft of thee— May the gods fierce vengeance take!"
There was exultation as she sang the second stanza:
"Boldly dared, is well-nigh won, Half my task is solved aright, Every star's to me a sun, Only cowards deem it night. Strode I idly by thy side Sorrow still would sadden me, But when seas our paths divide, Gladly toil I—toil for thee."
Then with all the tenderness of her impassioned soul she breathed out the last lines: