But man's first lyrical music was undoubtedly an
imitation of the voices of nature. And what is music after all but an
infinite speech unbounded by fettering words, an auricular presentment
of the otherwise indescribable, for what words may fully reveal all
the wonder of Life, the awful majesty of Death? But music can and
does. By music we may hold converse with the Infinite. Out of the dust
came man, out of suffering his soul and from his soul--music. You
apprehend me, friend Jarvis?"
"Here an' there, my lord. I--I mean," stammered the Tinker, a little
at a loss, "I understand enough to wish I could hear some real
music--but music ain't much in a tinker's line--"
"You shall!" exclaimed his lordship, rising suddenly. "I will play to
you, and after, Diana shall bless us with the glory of her voice if
she will. Your arm, Tinker. Leave your irons and hammers awhile and
come with me--let us go. Your arm, friend Jarvis!"
"But, sir--my clothes, my lord!" gasped Jeremy. "I ain't fit--"
"A fiddlestick!" quoth his lordship. "Give me your arm, pray." So
limping thus beside the Tinker, the Earl of Wyvelstoke led us along
beside the brook until we presently reached a grassy ride. Here he
paused and, taking a small gold whistle that hung about his neck, blew
a shrill blast, whereupon ensued the sound of wheels and creaking
harness, and a phaeton appeared driven by a man in handsome livery
who, touching smart hat to his shabby master, brought the vehicle to a
halt, into which we mounted forthwith and away we drove.
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