Would he dare to sing that here? she thought, her heart beating hard; would he dare? How little she knew him! In a moment his rich tenor voice, a voice of peculiar charm and timbre, filled the room and even startled the card-players.
“’Tis you shall reign alone,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
’Tis you shall have the golden throne,
’Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,
My dark Rosaleen!”
He sang the wild ballad through to the end, and as he ceased, Lady Betty turned to him and smiled, applauding softly. But she said nothing, although young Mackie was openly delighted, and Lady Sunderland exclaimed that it was a marvellous fine performance of a poor song.
“’Tis an old ballad, madam,” Mr. Trevor replied courteously, “and perhaps a poor one, but dear to the Irish heart.”
“Sing an English one next time, sir, or a Dutch—la—yes, your Grace of Bedford, we grow to love everything Dutch.”