But somehow, whether the editor was not brilliant or the fire was hot or that my own dreams were pleasanter to indulge in than his fancies, I fell sound asleep.
How differently is the mind attuned to the active, busy world of thought and action when awakened from sleep by any sudden and rude summons to arise and be stirring, and when called into existence by the sweet and silvery notes of softest music stealing over the senses, and while they impart awakening thoughts of bliss and beauty, scarcely dissipating the dreamy influence of slumber! Such was my first thought, as, with closed lids, the thrilling chords of a harp broke upon my sleep and aroused me to a feeling of unutterable pleasure.

I turned gently round in my chair and beheld Miss Dashwood.

She was seated in a recess of an old-fashioned window; the pale yellow glow of a wintry sun at evening fell upon her beautiful hair, and tinged it with such a light as I have often since then seen in Rembrandt's pictures; her head leaned upon the harp, and as she struck its chords at random, I saw that her mind was far away from all around her.

As I looked, she suddenly started from her leaning attitude, and parting back her curls from her brow, she preluded a few chords, and then sighed forth, rather than sang, that most beautiful of Moore's melodies,-- "She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps." Never before had such pathos, such deep utterance of feeling, met my astonished sense; I listened breathlessly as the tears fell one by one down my cheek; my bosom heaved and fell; and when she ceased, I hid my head between my hands and sobbed aloud.

In an instant, she was beside me, and placing her hand upon my shoulder, said,-- "Poor dear boy, I never suspected you of being there, or I should not have sung that mournful air." I started and looked up; and from what I know not, but she suddenly crimsoned to her very forehead, while she added in a less assured tone,-- "I hope, Mr.O'Malley, that you are much better; and I trust there is no imprudence in your being here." "For the latter, I shall not answer," said I, with a sickly smile; "but already I feel your music has done me service." "Then let me sing more for you." "If I am to have a choice, I should say, Sit down, and let me hear you talk to me.