"Wandering about in the moonlight has made you nervous." "I believe I _was_ a little afraid before you came," said she.

"That eye looking at me through the lattice gave me a start; and while I was running after your shadow, I heard that voice again singing, 'Toll the bell.' I wonder how you can be so indifferent about such a remarkable voice, when you are such a lover of music." "I presume, as I told you before, that it was one of the darkies," rejoined he.

"I will inquire about it to-morrow." "I should sooner believe it to be the voice of an angel from heaven, than a darky," responded the bride.

"I wish I could hear it again before I sleep." In immediate response to her wish, the full rich voice she had invoked began to sing an air from "Norma," beginning, "O, how his art deceived thee!" Fitzgerald started so suddenly, he overturned a seat near them.
"Hush!" she whispered, clinging to his arm.

Thus they stood in silence, she listening with rapt attention, he embarrassed and angry almost beyond endurance.