“The piano is not so wofully out of tune as might be expected,” asserted Maud, as she sat down comfortably to her work, all things being arranged by Jack, who was passionately fond of music—a good deal of which, as of other abstractions, he had in his soul.
“Far from it,” said he, as the shower of delicate notes which make up this loveliest of airy musical trifles fell on his ear like a melody of le temps perdu.
Jack had all his life been extremely susceptible to the charm of music. He had a good ear, and his taste, naturally correct, had been rather unusually well cultivated. With him the effect of harmony was to bring to the surface, and develop as by a spell, all the best, the noblest, the most exalted portions of his character. Any woman who played or sang with power exercised a species of fascination over him, assuming her personal endowments to be up to his standard. When Miss Stangrove, after passing lightly over capriccias of Chopin and Liszt, after a fashion which showed very unusual execution, commenced in deference to his repeated requests to sing When Sparrows Build, and one or two other special favourites, in such a mezzo-soprano! he was surprised, charmed, subjugated—with astonishing celerity.
However, the evenings of summer, commencing necessarily late, come to an end rather prematurely if we are very pleasantly engaged. So Jack thought when Mr. Stangrove looked at his watch, and opined that Jack after his ride would be glad to retire.
Jack was by no means glad, but of course assented blandly, and the two ladies sailed off.
“Shall we have a pipe in the verandah before we turn in?” asked his host. “You smoke, I suppose? We can open this window and leave the glasses on the table here within easy reach.”
Taking up his position upon a Cingalese cane-chair on the broad verandah, and lighting his pipe simultaneously with his host, Jack leaned back and enjoyed the wondrous beauty of the night.
The cottage, unlike the Mailman’s Arms, fronted the river, towards which a neatly-kept garden sloped, ending in a grassy bank.
“My sister belongs to the advanced party of reform, Mr. Redgrave, as you will have observed,” said his entertainer. “She and I have numerous fights on the subject.”
“I am proud to have such an ally,” said Jack; “but, seriously, I wonder you have not been converted. Surely the profits and advantages of fencing are sufficiently patent.”