Mr. Sylvester smiled. “It is a rare kind of coin to offer for such a simple pleasure, but it may meet with its acceptance, nevertheless;” and in his look and in his voice there was an appearance of affectionate interest that completed the subjugation of the watchful Miss Belinda, who now became doubly assured that whatever neglect had been shown her by her niece was not due to that niece’s husband.
Mr. Sylvester recognized the effect he had produced and hastened to complete it, feeling that the good opinion of Miss Belinda would be valuable to any man. “I have been a boy on these hills,” said he, “and know what it is to long for what is beyond while enjoying what is present. You shall hear the organ my child.” And stopped, wondering to himself over the new sweet interest he seemed to take in the prospect of pleasures which he had supposed himself to have long ago exhausted.
“Hear the organ, I? why that means—O what does it mean?” she inquired, turning with a look of beaming hope towards her aunt.
“You must ask Mr. Sylvester,” that uncompromising lady replied, with a straightforward look at the fire.
And he with a smile told the blushing girl that according to his reading, mortals went blindfold into fairyland; and she understood what he meant and was silent, whereupon he turned the conversation upon more commonplace subjects.
For how could he tell her then of the intention that had awakened in his breast at the first glimpse of her grand young beauty. To make her his child, to bequeath to her the place of the babe that had perished in his arms three long years before—That meant to give Ona a care if not a rival in his affections, and Ona shrank from care, and was not a subject for rivalry. And the if which this implied weighed heavily on his heart as moment after moment flew by, and he felt again the reviving power of an unsullied mind and an aspiring nature.