energy with which she sings. Having written my verses, I took them,
when she was busied elsewhere, to the piano-forte; and made some
unsuccessful attempts to please myself with an air to them. Sir Arthur
came in, and I left my stanzas on the desk of the instrument; very
inadvertently I assure thee, though I was afterward far from sorry that
they had been forgotten.

I have frequently indulged myself in sitting in an antichamber, to
listen to her playing and singing. I have thought that she is most
impassioned when alone, and perhaps all musicians are so. The next day,
happening to listen in the manner I have mentioned, I heard her singing
an air which was new to me, and remarked that she once or twice
stopped, to consider and make alterations.

I listened again and found she had been setting my verses!

By my soul, Oliver, I have no conception of rapture superior to what I
experienced at that moment! She had collected all her feelings, all her
invention, had composed a most beautiful air, and sung it with an
effect that must have been heard to be supposed possible. The force
with which she uttered every thought to the climax of daring, and the
compassion which she infused into the conclusion 'But do not dare to
love'--produced the most affecting contrast I ever heard.

This indeed was heaven, Oliver! But a heaven that ominously vanished,
at the entrance of Clifton. I followed him, and saw her shut the book,
and wipe the tear from her eye. Her flow of spirits is unfailing, but
the tone of her mind was raised too high suddenly to sink into
trifling. She looked at me two or three times. I know not for my part
what aspect I wore; but I could observe that the haughty Clifton felt