The Wildfire Club - The Emma Hardinge Britten Archive

OR TORN LEAVES FROl( LIFE HISTORY. 193
to utter them; but when they found he did not comprehend
them, stared with a half-sane look that warned of madness,
they let him sing, and," standing by hIs side, the viewless
spirit cheered him to his task. Perhaps she (deeper read
in human life than we poor mortals are) knew this exercise
would save his wavering mind, and keep the strings of
sense from snapping or preying on itself. In cells remote,
and many a dungeon deep, the sweet, wild cadence rang
like echoes from a distant world., The shivering captives
heard it, dreamed of choiring angels keepiI?-g watch over
poor mortals' woe, blessed God, and slept in peace. The
jailers listened, and, with awe-struck souls, told their beads
in quick succession, muttered a prayer, and curses on the
singer. The wandering peasant heard it as he crept along
the frowning walls, drew his rough hand across his eyes,
and cried, "God help the poor, lone maniac!" Far out
at sea the lonely ship-boy heard it. Rocked on the "giddy
mast by rushing winds, he thought sqJlle angel's song came
on the blast - a messenger from sainted friends in heaven.
He listened, bowed his head, thought of his home, and
wept.
" Ave Maria!" sang the fisherman upon the shore; and
.. Ave Eulalie !" replied the echo.
" Santa, keep and guard us !" "Hush," they whispered.
"The spirits of the murdered dead wail round the castle
of the dark, bold keeper."
One ear alone, with perfect understanding, marked the
strain. This was Augustine's, poor Ernest's noble comrade.
Safe from the skirmish, where he had lost his friend, the
young soldier followed in the course of duty the fugitive
warfare of his unhappy countrymen. This had at length
led him and them in the very neighborhood of the prison
where his friend was lodged. Dear as their improvvisatore
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