Verve was there none in the whole
ephemeral embodiment. When it died a natural death, if that be possible
where never had been any life, Vavasor said, "Thank you, Raymount." But
Hester, who had been standing with her teeth clenched under the fiery
rain of discords, wrong notes, and dislocated rhythm, rushed to the piano
with glowing cheeks and tear-filled eyes, and pushed Cornelius off the
stool. The poor weak fellow thought she was acting the sentimental over
the sudden outburst of his unsuspected talent, and recovering himself
stood smiling at her with affected protest.
"Corney!" she cried--and the faces of the two were a contrast worth
seeing--"you disgrace yourself! any one who can sing at all should be
ashamed to sing no better than that!"
Then feeling that she ought not to be thus carried away, or quench with
such a fierce lack of sympathy the smoking flax of any endowment, she
threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. He received her embrace
like the bear he was; the sole recognition he showed was a comically
appealing look to Vavasor intended to say, "You see how the women use
me! They trouble me, but I submit!"
"You naughty boy!" Hester went on, much excited, and speaking with great
rapidity, "you never let me suspect you could sing any more than a
frog--toad, I mean, for a frog does sing after his own rather monotonous
fashion, and you don't sing much better! Listen to me, and I will show
you how the song ought to have been sung.
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