She was trying to learn the piano, as yet with small
success; but Alexander who had studied music concurrently with
medicine, and to better result, was able to furnish accompaniments.
The concert began, and Piers, who had felt misgivings, was most
agreeably surprised. Not only had Bridget a voice, a very sweet
mezzo-contralto, but she sang with remarkable feeling. More than
once the listener had much ado to keep tears out of his eyes; they
were at his throat all the time, and his heart swelled with the
passionate emotion which had lurked there to the ruin of his peace.
But music, the blessed, the peacemaker (for music called martial is
but a blustering bastard), changed his torments to ecstasy; his
love, however hopeless, became an inestimable possession, and he
seemed to himself capable of such great, such noble things as had
never entered into the thought of man.
The crying of her baby obliged Bridget to withdraw for a little.
Alexander, who had already made a gallant inroad on the whisky
bottle, looked almost fiercely at his brother, and exclaimed:
"What do you day to _that_? Isn't that a woman? Isn't that a wife to
be proud of?"
Piers replied with enthusiasm.
"Not long ago," proceeded the other, "when we were really hard up,
she wanted me to let her try to earn money with her voice. She
could, you know! But do you think I'd allow it? Sooner I'll fry the
soles of my boots and make believe they're beefsteak!--Look at
her, and remember her when you're seeking for a wife of your own.
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