I heard you singing, though," she said, when Anna was
presented to her, "and it helped to keep up the illusion--it was so
like the music heard from a gondola that night, when Mr. Leighton and
myself made a voyage through the streets of Venice. Oh, it was so
beautiful," and the blue eyes turned to Mr. Leighton for confirmation
of what the lips had uttered.
"Which was beautiful?--Miss Ruthven's singing or that moonlight night
in Venice?" young Bellamy asked, smiling down upon the little lady who
still held Anna's hand, and who laughingly replied:
"Both, of course, though the singing is just now freshest in my
memory. I like it so much. You must have had splendid teachers," and
she turned again to Anna, whose face was suffused with blushes as she
met the rector's eyes, for to his suggestions and criticisms and
teachings she owed much of that cultivation which had so pleased and
surprised the stranger.
"Oh, yes, I see it was Arthur. He tried to train me once, and told me
I had a squeak in my voice. Don't you remember?--those frightfully
rainy days in Rome?" Miss Harcourt said, the Arthur dropping from her
lips as readily as if they had always been accustomed to speak it.
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