He seated himself at the piano and swept his hand up and down the keys, as if trying to drown his thoughts in a tempest of sound.  But, 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:—­

  “Down in the meadow, ’mong the clover,
  I walked with Nelly by my side. 
  Now all those happy days are over,
  Farewell, my dark Virginia bride. 
  Nelly was a lady;
  Last night she died. 
  Toll the bell for lovely Nell,
  My dark Virginia bride.”

The bride listened intensely, her fingers resting lightly on the keys, and when the sounds—­died away she started up, exclaiming, “What a voice!  I never heard anything like it.”

She moved eagerly toward the veranda, but was suddenly arrested by her husband.  “No, no, darling,” said he.  “You mustn’t expose yourself to the night air.”

“Then do go out yourself and bring her in,” urged she.  “I must hear more of that voice.  Who is she?”

“One of the darkies, I suppose,” rejoined he.  “You know they all have musical gifts.”

“Not such gifts as that, I imagine,” she replied.  “Do go out and bring her in.”

She was about to draw the curtain aside to look out, when he nervously called her attention to another window.  “See here!” he exclaimed.  “My people are gathering to welcome their new missis.  In answer to Tom’s request, I told him I would introduce you to them to-night.  But you are tired, and I am afraid you will take cold in the evening air; so we will postpone the ceremony until to-morrow.”