The relation had, indeed, seemed to the auditors like a dramatic performance. The melody of the speaker's voice, and the lines he uttered, left his audience as we sometimes feel after the scenic hour. There was a want of some soother of the excitement produced. The old knight felt this. He took his viol-de-gamba and drew his bow lightly across the strings, producing that silver and somewhat solemn sound which those who have heard the instrument so well remember--sounds suited to the hour, age, and scene, and which give their own impressions of days long passed away. "Come, Charlotte," said Sir Hugh, after executing one of the pieces of music then in vogue, "now a madrigal in which all can join. This youth hath put a spell upon us with his sad story. Come, a madrigal; and after that our evening meal in the garden, beneath the mulberry-tree. Do thou take the first, whilst I and Walter chime in second and third, and Martin shall e'en do his best to help us." "Nay, uncle," said Martin, jerking out his legs straight before him, then putting them to the ground gently, and then lightly executing a sort of somersault and coming forward, "I pr'ythee hold me excused. I shall but spoil your music: my voice is rugged. I am not gifted to sing squealingly with a lady. A psalm or so at church, or a quaver after supper I can execute; but my voice is like the howl of an Irish wolf when I sing a part with the lady Charlotte: blessings on her celestial throat." "Nay, Martin," said Charlotte, as she seated herself, "thou wilt not refuse when I tell thee it is to pleasure our new friend, to whom we owe so much." Martin glanced quickly upon Shakespeare, as she said this, and then slowly turned his eye upon the young lady. He stroked his chin knowingly, and seemed to be considering them both very curiously. "Truly so," he said, "we do indeed owe much to this lad. May God requite the debt." So saying, the familiar walked to the window, and, looking affectionately in the handsome face of Walter, as he stood leaning against the casement and regarding Charlotte, he put his arm through that of the young cavalier, and remained beside him whilst the madrigal was sung; his own fine bass voice coming in with singular effect, and belying his modest assertion of incompetency. To say that the voice of the lovely Charlotte delighted Shakespeare would be to say little; he felt ravished and enchanted, and it left an impression upon the young poet which he never forgot from that hour! And oh! how calmly, how contentedly, and how quietly flowed the hours of private life even during such a reign of glory as that of the great and good Queen Bess!