" Ah, he didn't hear me, and he ceased.
"Jessie, dear, ain't that beautiful?" said I.
"Oh," she said (and she clasped her hands hard), "it is like the sound
of a spirit speaking from above."
"Imitate it," said I.
She knew the air, it was a Scotch one; and their music is the most
touching, because the most simple, I know.
Squire, you will think I am getting spooney, but I ain't. You know how
fond I am of nature, and always was; but I suppose you will think if I
ain't talking Turkey, that I am getting crankey, when I tell you an
idea that came into my mind just then. She imitated it in the most
perfect manner possible. Her clear, sweet, mellow, but powerful notes,
never charmed me so before. I thought it sounded like a maiden,
answering her lover. One was a masculine, the other a female voice.
The only difference was in the force, but softness was common to both.
Can I ever forget the enchantment of that day?
"Dear Jessie," said I, "you and your friend are just formed for each
other. How happy you could make him."
"Who?" said she, and there was no affectation in the question. She
knew not the import of that word. "What do you mean?"
"Hush," said I, "I will tell you by and by. Old Tom is playing again."
It was "Auld lang syne." How touching it was! It brought tears to
Jessie's eyes. She had learned it, when a child, far, far away; and it
recalled her tribe, her childhood, her country, and her mother.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262