"Sing something, Maisrie."
"You know I can't sing, grandfather, but I never refuse you, for it is not of any use," said she, contentedly, as she took the violin out of its case. "But Mr. Harris has had enough of Scotch songs this evening. I must try something else. And perhaps you may have heard the air in Canada," she added, addressing the young man from out of the partial darkness.
And now what was this new enchantment she was about to disclose and practise? In plain truth, she had very little voice; but he did not notice that; it was the curiously naive, and simple, and sincere expression of tone that thrilled through his heart, as she proceeded to recite rather than to sing the well-known "C' était une frégate," the violin aiding her with its low and plaintive notes:
C' était une frégate
(Mon joli coeur de rose)
Dans la mer a touché
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
And here again were those softly slurred r's—not sharply trilled, as in the English fashion—but gentle and half-concealed, as it were. The simple story proceeded—
Y avait une demoiselle
(Mon joli coeur de rose)
Su' l' bord d' la mer pleurait,
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
—Dites-moi donc, la belle,
(Mon joli coeur de rose)
Qu' a' vous à tant pleurer?
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
—Je pleur; mon anneau d' or,
(Mon joli coeur de rose)
Dans la mer est tombé,
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
Then he asks the weeping damsel what she would give to any one who would find for her her ring of gold that has fallen into the sea.
—Je suis trop pauvre fille,
(Mon joli coeur de rose),
Je ne puis rien donner,
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
Qu' mon coeur en mariage
(Mon joli coeur de rose)
Pour mon anneau doré
(Joli coeur d' un rosier).
But the young man sitting there in the twilight hardly heard further than that. The phrase 'qu' mon coeur en mariage' had something more beautiful in it than even the soft sound of the r's as she pronounced them; it dwelt in his heart with a mysterious charm; even as she went on to tell how the bold gallant who dived for the ring of gold was drowned, what he still seemed to hear was "Je ne puis rien donner, qu' mon coeur en mariage;" and when she had finished, and there was silence, he did not speak; there was a kind of bewilderment in the tones of her voice; and he could not offer her commonplace thanks.
"Now I am going to light the gas," she said, cheerfully, as she laid aside her violin, "and, grandfather, you can challenge Mr. Harris to a game of chess, or draughts, or dominoes, whichever he likes best, so that I may get to my work, for it cannot always be playtime."