But they were silent as death. Fleda's face was in her hands and her utmost efforts after self-control wrought nothing but tears. The stillness had lasted a little while, when very softly and sweetly the notes of a hymn floated to their ears, and though they floated on and filled the room, the voice was so nicely modulated that its waves of sweetness broke gently upon the nearest ear.
"Jesus, the sinner's friend, to Thee,
Lost and undone, for aid I flee;
Weary of earth, myself, and sin,
Open thine arms and take me in.
"Pity and save my sin-sick soul,--
'Tis thou alone canst make me whole;
Dark, till in me thine image shine,
And lost I am, till thou art mine.
"At length I own it cannot be,
That I should fit myself for thee,
Here now to thee I all resign,--
Thine is the work, and only thine.
"What shall I say thy grace to move?--
Lord, I am sin, but thou art love!
I give up every plea beside,--
Lord, I am lost,--but thou hast died!"
They were still again after the voice had ceased; almost perfectly still; though tears might be pouring, as indeed they were from every eye, there was no break to the silence, other than a half-caught sob now and then from a kneeling figure whose head was in Marion's lap.
"Who was that?" said Hugh, when the singer had been silent a minute.
Nobody answered immediately; and then Mr. Carleton bending over him, said,
"Don't you know me, dear Hugh?"
"Is it Mr. Carleton?"