"But surely there are some simple little things, without very much compass, that would not distress you. How pretty those old English songs are that they are collecting and publishing now! I mean songs of Shakespeare's time--Ben Jonson's, Beaumont and Fletcher's, and Massinger's, you know. Some of them are so extremely pretty!" "Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure," said he with a strange alacrity, quite forgetting his cold, sitting down at the instrument, and striking two or three fierce chords. I am sure that most of my readers are acquainted with that pretty old English song, of the time of James the First, entitled, "Once I Loved a Maiden Fair." That was the song he chose. Never, perhaps, did he sing so well before, with a fluctuation of pathos and scorn, tenderness and hatred, expressed with real dramatic fire, and with more power of voice than at moments of less excitement he possessed. He sang it with real passion, and produced, exactly where he wished, a strange but unavowed sensation. He omitted one verse, and the song as he delivered it was thus:-- "Once I loved a maiden fair, But she did deceive me: She with Venus could compare, In my mind, believe me. She was young, and among All our maids the sweetest: Now I say, Ah, well-a-day! Brightest hopes are fleetest. Maidens wavering and untrue Many a heart have broken; Sweetest lips the world e'er knew Falsest words have spoken. Fare thee well, faithless girl, I'll not sorrow for thee: Once I held thee dear as pearl, Now I do abhor thee." When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very distinctly, as he rose-- "I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It is a song worthy of Shakespeare himself." Lady Hummington urged him with an encore, but he was proof against her entreaties. And so, after a little, she took Mr. Longcluse's arm; and Alice felt relieved when the room was rid of them. CHAPTER XXXI. ABOUT THE GROUNDS. Lady Hummington, well pleased at having found in Mr. Longcluse what she termed a kindred mind, was warned by the hour that she must depart. She took her leave of Mr. Longcluse with regret, and made him promise to come to luncheon with her on the Thursday following. Mr. Longcluse called her carriage for her, and put in, besides herself, her maiden sister and two daughters, who all exhibited the family leanness, with noses more or less red and aquiline, and small black eyes, set rather close together. As he ascended the steps he was accosted by a damsel in distress.