Bertie was soon by the piano, but Bluebell ceased almost directly after. He had brought from Montreal [unreadable] Minstrel Melodies, then just out, and asked her to try one. She excused herself on the plea that it was a man's song, so he began it himself. Who has not suffered from the male amateur, who comes forward with bashful fatuity to favour the company with a strain tame and inaudible as a nervous school girl's? Bertie was no musician, and his songs were all picked up by ear, but there was a passion and timbre in the tenor voice, fascinating if unskilful, and the refrain of "Gentle Annie,"
"Shall we never more behold her,
Never hear that winning voice again,
Till the spring time comes, gentle Annie,
Till the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?"
lingered with its mournful, tender inflection in more than one ear that night.
Afterwards the two young men from the barracks, muffled to the chin in buffalo robes, lit the inevitable cigar, and jingled merrily off to the music of the bells.
CHAPTER IV.
SATURDAY AT HOME.
Unhasp the lock—like elves set free,
Flit out old memories;
A strange glow gathers round my heart.
Strange moisture dims mine eyes.
Lawrance.
Cecil woke the next morning with the feeling that something pleasant had happened; and then she remembered that Bertie Du Meresq was actually in the house, and the old folly as likely as ever to begin again; but, not possessing the self-examining powers of Anthony Trolloppe's heroines, she made no attempt to argue herself out of her unreasonable happiness, and, indeed, dwelt far more than necessary on the warm, sudden hand-clasp so inopportunely witnessed by full private Bowers. She came down radiant, and looking positively handsome; but when did a too sunny dawn escape a cloud ere noon? Bertie seemed different somehow,—was not certain he could get more leave,—was even doubtful about asking for it; and Cecil's mental Mercury, which had been "set fair," went down to "change." In reality, Du Meresq not being so etherealized by love, felt out of sorts, and not up to the mark that morning, and, therefore, probably opined with Moore—