“Pooh! pooh!” said the priest.
“You won't refuse me?” said Fanny, in a coaxing tone.
“My dear Miss Dawson,” said the padre.
“Father Phil!” said Fanny, with one of her rosy smiles.
“Oh, wow! wow! wow!” ejaculated the priest, in an amusing embarrassment, “I see you will make me do whatever you like.” So Father Phil gave the rare example of a man acting up to his own theory, and could not resist the demand that came from a pretty mouth. He took the book and read the lines with much feeling, but, with an observance of rhythm so grotesque, that it must be given in his own manner.
WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE?
I
“What will you do, love, when I am go-ing,
With white sail flow-ing,
The seas be-yond? What will you do, love, when waves di-vide us,
And friends may chide us,
For being fond?”
“Though waves di-vide us, and friends be chi-ding,
In faith a-bi-ding,
I'll still be true;
And I'll pray for thee on the stormy o-cean,
In deep de-vo-tion,—
That's what I'll do!”
II
“What would you do, love, if distant ti-dings
Thy fond con-fi-dings
Should under-mine And I a-bi-ding 'neath sultry skies,
Should think other eyes Were as bright as thine?”
“Oh, name it not; though guilt and shame Were on thy name,
I'd still be true;
But that heart of thine, should another share it,
I could not bear it;—
What would I do?”