“May I not hope for the pleasure of Miss Elwyn’s company too?” Upon which Miss Evelina, with a childishly-confidential air, raised herself on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear:
“It is not at all necessary to ask her: we never feel obliged to, I assure you. She is only governess to the children.”
But Mr. Harrington renewed his invitation, which Agnes had respectfully declined, when Mr. Fairland entered the room, and Mr. Harrington appealed to him.
“Go? Certainly Agnes must go; she has never been on the lake in a sail-boat, and I have often heard her say she would delight to go. Come, Agnes! put on your things without a word, and go along.”
Thus urged, Agnes consented to go, though she felt a little uncomfortable at the silent displeasure of the Misses Fairland. There was a pleasant breeze, and the little boat flew like a bird over the dancing waves. Agnes, a devoted admirer of nature, was in an ecstasy which she could not conceal, as one beautiful view succeeded another during their sail up the lake; but the other ladies were so much occupied in trying the effect of art, that they had no eye for the beauties of nature. The breeze soon died away, leaving them far from home, and Mr. Harrington was obliged to take to his oars; and long before the village was in sight, the gentle moon had begun her walk through “golden gates,” throwing across the water a brilliant column of light, sparkling and dancing in glorious beauty on the gentle ripples of the lake.
“Now is the time for music,” said Mr. Harrington; “for truly
‘Music sounds the sweetest
Over the rippling waves.’”
But for once the Misses Fairland were obliged to relinquish the opportunity of charming by their united voices; the only music in which they were practised, and which they thought worth listening to, being of the flourishing, trilling, running, quavering, shrieking kind; and this they could not attempt without their “notes” and the “instrument.” Mr. Harrington then proposed to Agnes to sing some sweet old-fashioned airs; and laying down his oars, he took a seat beside her, and joined his rich tenor to the strangely-melodious tones of her voice; and as the harmony floated over the water, it seemed almost like the music of heaven. This was a state of things by no means agreeable to the two neglected ladies in the other end of the boat, and Miss Calista began to be afraid of the night air, and Miss Evelina was taken with a hacking cough; so that Mr. Harrington was obliged to resume his oars, and row them rapidly to the village.
Mr. Harrington consented to moor his boat, and accompany the ladies up to the house to tea. Anxious to try the effect of their own accomplishments, the Misses Fairland, soon after tea, led the conversation to the subject of music, and were easily persuaded to attempt, with the “notes” and “instrument,” some of their favorite songs. And now began a flourishing and screaming unparalleled in the annals of music. Miss Calista screamed, “I love only thee!” and then Miss Evelina shrieked, “I love only thee!” and then Miss Calista trilled it—and Miss Evelina howled it—and Miss Calista quavered it—and Miss Evelina ran it—and then one of them started on it, and the other ran and caught up with her—and then one burred for some time on thee-e-e-e-e, while the other ran up and down, still asserting as rapidly as possible, and insisting boldly, and stoutly asseverating, “I love only thee!”—and then, with a combined shriek, they made known the fact once more and finally, and then the ears of their hearers were allowed to rest.
“Now, girls, if you have done with that clatter,” said Mr. Fairland, “I want Agnes to sing for me one of those sweet old Scotch songs; it will be quite refreshing after all this screeching.”