And so on, through the many stanzas of the fine old ballad, telling of the bride who cried, “I’ll hide, I’ll hide,” and then of the search and how they never found the beautiful bride until years had passed away, and then, on opening the old chest in the attic, her bones were discovered and the wedding veil.
When the applause subsided, Miss Grace asked Richard Blount to sing.
“I’ll do it, Cousin Grace, but I have never felt more modest about my little accomplishments. Miss Hathaway has taken all the wind out of my sails. I am going to sing a little thing that I clipped out of a newspaper and put to music. ‘It is a poor thing, but mine own.’ I think it is appropriate for this party, and hope you will agree with me.”
“Now, Dicky, you know we love your singing, and because Miss Hathaway has charmed us is no reason why you cannot charm us all over. Caruso can sing, as well as Sembrich,” said Miss Grace.
Richard Blount had a good baritone voice, and sang with a great deal of taste; and he played on the piano with real genius. With a few brilliant runs he settled down to the simple, sweet air he had composed for the little bit of fugitive verse, and then began to sing:
“The holly is a soldier bold,
Arrayed in tunic green,
His slender sword is never sheathed,
But always bared and keen.
He stands amid the winter snows
A sentry in the wood,—
The scarlet berries on his boughs
Are drops of frozen blood.
“The mistletoe’s a maiden fair,
Enchanted by the oak,
Who holds her in his hoary arms,
And hides her in his cloak.
She knows her soldier lover waits
Among the leafless trees,
And, weeping in the bitter cold,
Her tears to jewels freeze.
“But at the holy Christmas-tide,
Blessed time of all the year,
The evil spirits lose their power,
And angels reappear.
They meet beside some friendly hearth,
While softly falls the snow—
The soldier Holly and his bride,
The mystic Mistletoe.”
Richard had been delighted by Melissa’s performance, and now she returned the compliment by being so carried away by his singing and the song that she forgot all shyness and reserve and openly congratulated him, praising his music with so much real appreciation and fervor that the young man was persuaded to sing again. He sang the beautiful Indian song of Cadman’s, “The Moon Hangs Low,” and was beginning the opening chords to “The Land of Sky-blue Water,” when there came a sharp ringing of the bell, followed by some confusion in the hall as the door was opened and a gust of wind blew in the fast falling snow. Then a man’s voice was heard inquiring for Professor Green.
CHAPTER VI.—MORE SURPRISES.
“Whose voice is that?” exclaimed Molly and Judy in unison; and without waiting to be answered they rushed into the hall to find Kent Brown being warmly greeted by Professor Green. Before he had time to shake the snow from his broad shoulders, Molly seized him and he seized Judy, and they had a good old three-cornered Christmas hug.
“Did you get my note tied to the mistletoe?”