the heart seems to hallow it there,
Which, seek through the world, is not met with elsewhere."

If Lesley's voice faltered a little while singing words with which she
herself felt forced to disagree, and to which her mother had given the
lie by running away from the home Caspar Brooke had provided for her,
the hesitation and tremulousness were set down by the hearers as a very
pretty bit of artistic skill, which they were not at all slow to
appreciate. Mrs. Romaine put up her eye-glass and looked narrowly at the
girl during the last few notes.

"How well she sings!" she murmured in Mr. Brooke's ear. "Positively, as
if she felt it!"

Caspar Brooke gave a little start, left off handling his beard, and sat
up shrugging his shoulders. "A good deal of dramatic talent, I fancy,"
he observed. But he could say no more, for the people were clapping
their hands and stamping with their feet, in their eagerness for
another song; and he was obliged to be silent until the tumult abated.

"You must sing again?" said Oliver.

"Must I? Really? But--shall I sing what English people call a sacred
piece? A Sunday piece, you know? 'Angels ever bright and fair'--can you
play that?"

Oliver could play that. And Lesley sang it with great applause.

But, being a keenly observant young person, and also in a very sensitive
state, she noticed that her father held aloof and did not look quite
well pleased. And she, remembering her refusal to take singing lessons,
felt, naturally, a little guilty.

She had not time, however, to dwell upon her own feelings. The assembly
began to disperse, for Mr. Brooke did not let the hours of his "meeting"
encroach on church hours, and it was time to go. But almost every man,
and certainly every woman, insisted on shaking hands with Lesley, most
of them saying, with a friendly nod, that they hoped she'd come again.

"You're Mr. Brooke's daughter, ain't you, miss?" said a tall,
broad-shouldered fellow, with honest eyes and a pleasant smile, which
Lesley liked.

"Yes, I am."

"I hope you'll give us a bit of your singing another Sunday. 'Tis a
treat to hear you, it is."

"Yes, I shall be glad to come again," said Lesley.

"That's like your father's daughter," said the man, heartily. "Meaning
no disrespect to you, miss. But Mr. Brooke's the life and soul of this
place: he's splendid--just splendid; and we can't think too high of him.
So it's right and fitting that his daughter should take after him