And in your white arms wind me,
Before that I be dead.’”
“Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when you know that Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not only charming, but cheery and natural?”
“It is because it is unnatural that I like that song so much; the air is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I think the idea is Icelandic—those ghostly lovers that came in the dark to win their beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing of their having died, to ride with them over the snowy fields and frozen rivers, to join their friends at a merry-making which they were never to see; but there is something more mysterious even in this lover, for his passion has unearthly beginnings that lose themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much, Mr. Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May, isn't it your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?”
“Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, and have it,” said he, in a low impassioned murmur.
How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but all were suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant entered with a note, which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr. Longcluse.
“Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl,” murmured the man.
“Oh, yes—thanks,” said Mr. Longcluse, who saw a shabby letter, with the words “Private” and “Immediate” written in a round, vulgar hand over the address.
“Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us,” said Lady May.
“Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave some evidence to-day at an inquest,” began Mr. Longcluse.