She had a delicate touch, and accompanied herself with great taste,--but her voice, full, penetrating, rich and true,--was one of the purest and most sympathetic ever possessed by woman, and its freshness was unspoilt by any of the varied "systems" of torture invented by singing-masters for the ingenious destruction of the delicate vocal organ.

She sang a Norwegian love-song in the original tongue, which might be roughly translated as follows:-- "Lovest thou me for my beauty's sake?
Love me not then! Love the victorious, glittering Sun, The fadeless, deathless, marvellous One!" "Lovest thou me for my youth's sake?
Love me not then! Love the triumphant, unperishing Spring, Who every year new charms doth bring!" "Lovest thou me for treasure's sake?
Oh, love me not then! Love the deep, the wonderful Sea, Its jewels are worthier love than me!" "Lovest thou me for Love's own sake?
Ah sweet, then love me! More than the Sun and the Spring and the Sea, Is the faithful heart I will yield to thee!" A silence greeted the close of her song.

Though the young men were ignorant of the meaning of the words still old Gueldmar translated them for their benefit, they could feel the intensity of the passion vibrating through her ringing tones,--and Errington sighed involuntarily.

She heard the sigh, and turned round on the music-stool laughing.
"Are you so tired, or sad, or what is it ?" she asked merrily.

"It is too melancholy a tune?
And I was foolish to sing it,--because you cannot understand the meaning of it.