an example. Will you not
sing? I know you can--your mother told me so."

"You must excuse me, Mr. Bernard; I would willingly oblige you, but I
fear I could not trust my voice among so many strangers."

"You mistake your own powers," urged Bernard. "There is nothing easier,
believe me, after the first few notes of the voice, which sound
strangely enough I confess, than for any one to recover self-possession
entirely. I well remember the first time I attempted to speak before a
large audience. When I arose to my feet, my knees trembled, and my lips
actually felt heavy as lead. It seemed as though every drop of blood in
my system rushed back to my heart. The vast crowd before me was nothing
but an immense assemblage of eyes, all bent with the most burning power
upon me; and when at length I opened my mouth, and first heard the tones
of my own voice, it sounded strange and foreign to my ear. It seemed as
though it was somebody else, myself and yet not myself, who was
speaking; and my utterance was so choked and discordant, that I would
have given worlds if I could draw back the words that escaped me. But
after a half dozen sentences, I became perfectly composed and
self-possessed, and cared no more for the gaping crowd than for the idle
wind which I heed not. So it will be with your singing, but rest assured
that the discord of your voice will only exist in your own fancy. Now
will you oblige me?"

"Indeed, Mr. Bernard, I cannot say that you have offered much
inducement," said Virginia, laughing at the young man's description of
his forensic debut. "Nothing but the strongest sense of duty would impel
me to pass through such an ordeal as that which you have described.
Seriously you must excuse me. I cannot sing."

"Oh yes you can, my dear," said her mother, who was standing near, and
heard the latter part of the conversation. "What's the use of being so
affected about it! You know you can sing, my dear--and I like to see
young people obliging."

"That's right, Mrs. Temple," said Bernard, "help me to urge my petition;
I don't think Miss Virginia can be disobedient, even if it were in her
power to be disobliging."

"The fact is, Mr. Bernard," said the old lady, "that the young people of
the present day require so much persuading, that its hardly worth the
trouble to get them to do any thing."

"Well, mother, if you put it on that ground," said Virginia, "I suppose
I must waive my objections and oblige you."

So sayi