Was it not rather the sound of a soft, low voice,
and the silvery notes of the zither? His memory acted as a sea-shell,
and brought him an echo from other days and other climes.
"Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent
shores slumber in the dark:
"Sul placido elemento
Vien meco a navigar!
"The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and
dies--among the murmur of the water:
"Lascia l'amico tetto,
Vien meco a navigar!
"Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see,
oh the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble:
"Sul l'onde addormentate
Vien meco a navigar!"
This was the voice that he heard amidst the roar of the London streets.
Would he hear it far away on the wide Atlantic, with the shores of
England hidden behind the mists of rain? To-night was to decide what the
future of his life was to be.
If Natalie had appeared at this moment, and said to him, "Dearest, let
it be as my father wishes;" or if Lord Evelyn had frankly declared to
him that it was his duty to surrender his possessions to this Society to
which he had devoted his life, there would have been not a moment's
hesitation.
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