Her mind was overflowing with thoughts and fancies,
new, enigmatical, yet delightful. Her nervous manner did not escape
the loving eye of her aunt; but she spoke not--she was silent under
the burden of a secret joy that found not vent in words.
Suddenly Amelie rose from the window, and seated herself, in her
impulsive way, at the organ. Her fingers touched the keys timidly
at first as she began a trembling prelude of her own fantasy. In
music her pent-up feelings found congenial expression. The fire
kindled, and she presently burst out with the voice of a seraph in
that glorious psalm, the 116th:
"'Toto pectore diligam
Unice et Dominum colam,
Qui lenis mihi supplici
Non duram appulit aurem.
Aurem qui mihi supplici,
Non duram dedit; hunc ego
Donec pectora spiritus
Pulset semper, amabo.'"
The Lady de Tilly, half guessing the truth, would not wound the
susceptibilities of her niece by appearing to do so; so rose quietly
from her seat and placed her arms gently round Amelie when she
finished the psalm.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220