do what he would, the thoughts spoke loudest; and after a while he
leaned his head forward on the piano, lost in revery.

A soft little hand touched his head, and a feminine voice inquired,
"What are you thinking of, Gerald?"

"Of you, my pearl," he replied, rising hastily, and stooping to
imprint a kiss on the forehead of his bride.

"And pray what were you thinking about _me_?" she asked.

"That you are the greatest beauty in the world, and that I love you
better than man ever loved woman," rejoined he. And so the game of
courtship went on, till it was interrupted by a summons to supper.

When they returned some time later, the curtains were drawn and
candles lighted. "You have not yet tried the piano," said he, as he
placed the music-stool.

She seated herself, and, after running up and down the keys, and
saying she liked the tone of the instrument, she began to play and
sing "Robin Adair." She had a sweet, thin voice, and her style of
playing indicated rather one who had learned music, than one whose
soul lived in its element. Fitzgerald thought of the last singing he
had heard at that piano; and without asking for another song, he began
to sing to her accompaniment, "Drink to me only with thine eyes." He
had scarcely finished the line, "Leave a kiss within the cup, and
I'll not ask for wine," when clear, liquid tones rose on the air,
apparently from the veranda; and the words they carried on their wings
were these:--