"I don't express them; it is my fault," he answered, in a very low tone. "You have _mind_, Miss Arden, for anything. There is no one it is so delightful to converse with, owing in part to that very faculty--I mean quick apprehension. But I know my own defects. I know how imperfectly I often express myself. By-the-way, you seemed to wish to have that curious little wild Bohemian air I sang the other night, 'The Wanderer's Bride'--the song about the white lily, you know. I ventured to get a friend, who really is a very good musician, to make a setting of it, which I so very much hope you will like. I brought it with me. You will think me very presumptuous, but I hoped so much you might be tempted to try it." When Mr. Longcluse spoke to Alice, it was always in a tone so very deferential, that it was next to impossible that a very young girl should not be flattered by it--considering, especially, that the man was reputed clever, had seen the world, and had met with a certain success, and that by no means of a kind often obtained, or ever quite despised. There was also a directness in his eulogy which was unusual, and which spoken with a different manner would have been embarrassing, if not offensive. But in Mr. Longcluse's manner, when he spoke such phrases, there appeared a real humility, and even sadness, that the boldness of the sentiment was lost in the sincerity and dejection of the speaker, which seemed to place him on a sudden at the immeasurable distance of a melancholy worship. "I am so much obliged!" said Alice. "I did wish so much to have it when you sang it. It may not do for my voice at all, but I longed to try it. When a song is sung so as to move one, it is sure to be looked out and learned, without any thought wasted on voice, or skill, or natural fitness. It is, I suppose, like the vanity that makes one person dress after another. Still, I do wish to sing that song, and I am so much obliged!" From the other side her uncle said very softly--"What do you think of my ward, Grace Maubray?" "Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?" she laughed archly. "Oh! I see," he answered, with a pleasant and honest smile; "you have the gift of seeing as far as other clever people into a millstone. But, no--though perhaps I ought to thank you for giving me credit for so much romance and good taste--I don't think I shall ever introduce you to an aunt. You must guess again, if you will have a matrimonial explanation; though I don't say there is any such design. And perhaps, if there were, the best way to promote it would be to leave the intended hero and heroine very much to themselves. They are both very good-looking." "Who?" asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he meant. "I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and Vivian Darnley," said he quietly. She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.