and excellent lady. She deserved a better fate.” 

 Tears stood in St. Aubert’s eyes; “Enough,” said he, in a voice almost stifled by the violence of his emotions,—“it is enough, my friend.” 

 Emily, though extremely surprised by her father’s manner, forbore to express her feelings by any question. La Voisin began to apologise, but St. Aubert interrupted him; “Apology is quite unnecessary,” said he, “let us change the topic. You were speaking of the music we just now heard.” 

 “I was, monsieur—but hark!—it comes again; listen to that voice!” They were all silent; 

 At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose, like a stream of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ’ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still, to be so displaced. MILTON. 

 In a few moments the voice died into air, and the instrument, which had been heard before, sounded in low symphony. St. Aubert now observed, that it produced a tone much more full and melodious than that of a guitar, and still more melancholy and soft than the lute. They continued to listen, but the sounds returned no more. “This is strange!” said St. Aubert, at length interrupting the silence. “Very strange!” said Emily. “It is so,” rejoined La Voisin, and they were again silent. 

 After a long pause, “It is now about eighteen years since I first heard that music,” said La Voisin; “I remember it was on a fine summer’s night, much like this, but later, that I was walking in the woods, and alone. I remember, too, that my spirits were very low, for one of my boys was ill, and we feared we should lose him. I had been watching at his bedside all the evening while his mother slept; for she had sat up with him the night before. I had been watching, and went out for a little fresh air, the day had been very sultry. As I walked under the shades and mused, I heard music at a distance, and thought it was Claude playing upon his flute, as he often did of a fine evening, at the cottage door. But, when I came to a place where the trees opened, (I shall never forget it!) and stood looking up at the north-lights, which shot up the heaven to a great height, I heard all of a sudden such sounds!—they came so as I cannot describe. It was like the music of angels, and I looked up again almost expecting to see them in the sky. When I came home, I told what I had heard, but they laughed at me, and said it must be some of the shepherds playing on their pipes, and I could not persuade 

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