SHOWS THAT MUSIC HATH CHARMS, AND ALSO THAT IT SOMETIMES HAS
DISADVANTAGES.
One morning, not long after his arrival at St. Just, the young doctor
went out to make a round of professional visits. He had on his way to
pass the cottage of his uncle, which stood a little apart from the chief
square or triangle of the town, and had a small piece of ground in
front. Here Rose was wont to cultivate her namesakes, and other
flowers, with her own fair hands, and here Mr Thomas Donnithorne
refreshed himself each evening with a pipe of tobacco, the flavour of
which was inexpressibly enhanced to him by the knowledge that it had
been smuggled.
He was in the habit of washing the taste of the same away each night,
before retiring to rest, with a glass of brandy and water, hot, which
was likewise improved in flavour by the same interesting association.
The windows of the cottage were wide open, for no Atlantic fog dimmed
the glory of the summer sun that morning, and the light air that came up
from the mighty sea was fresh and agreeably cool.
As Oliver approached the end of the cottage he observed that Rose was
not at her accustomed work in the garden, and he was about to pass the
door when the tones of a guitar struck his ear and arrested his step.
He was surprised, for at that period the instrument was not much used,
and the out-of-the-way town of St. Just was naturally the last place in
the land where he would have expected to meet with one. No air was
played--only a few chords were lightly touched by fingers which were
evidently expert. Presently a female voice was heard to sing in rich
contralto tones. The air was extremely simple, and very beautiful--at
least, so thought Oliver, as he leaned against a wall and listened to
the words. These, also, were simple enough, but sounded both sweet and
sensible to the listener, coming as they did from a woman's lips so
tunefully, and sounding the praises of the sea, of which he was
passionately fond:--