He has his innings now, but we got the best of
him this afternoon." Elizabeth's merry answering laugh reached
Malcolm's ears, and made him lose the drift of the vicar's argument.
But he lost it still more, and became increasingly absent-minded,
when a few minutes later he heard her rich, full tones in his
favourite song, "Loving, yet leaving." Mr. Charrington noticed it at
last. "The siren is too much for you, Mr. Herrick," he said
pleasantly; "we will resume our discussion another time," and to
this Malcolm cheerfully assented.
Did Elizabeth perceive the dark figure that glided in at the open
window and settled itself so comfortably in the easy-chair? If she
were conscious of the silent auditor, she made no sign.
Never had her voice been sweeter and truer; never had she sung with
such birdlike clearness, with such abandon and pleasure. Now and
then a whispered word from David made her exchange one song for
another, or a low-toned "bravo" from the same source greeted some
special favourite.
Elizabeth was in the mood for singing. She was a creature of moods
and tenses, and would probably have gone on carolling blissfully for
another hour if the vicar had not interrupted them.
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