Mary went to the window: there was nothing
capable of music within sight. It came again; and intermittingly
came and came. For some time they would hear nothing at all, and
then again the most delicate of tones would creep into their
ears, bringing with it more, it seemed to Mary in the surprise of
its sweetness, than she could have believed single tone capable
of carrying. Once or twice a few consecutive sounds made a
division strangely sweet; and then again, for a time, nothing
would reach them but a note here and a note there of what she was
fain to imagine a wonderful melody. The visitation lasted for
about an hour, then ceased. Letty went to bed, and all night long
dreamed she heard the angels calling her. She woke weeping that
her time was come so early, while as yet she had tasted so little
of the pleasure of life. But the truth was, she had as yet, poor
child, got so little of the _good_ of life, that it was not
at all time for her to go.
When her hour drew near, Tom condescended--unwillingly, I am
sorry to say, for he did not take the trouble to understand her
feelings--to leave word where he might be found if he should be
wanted. Even this assuagement of her fears Letty had to plead
for; Mary's being so much with her was to him reason, and he made
it excuse, for absence; he had begun to dread Mary. Nor, when at
length he was sent for, was he in any great haste; all was well
over ere he arrived.
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