From the direction
of the quarters of the maids of honour came a succession of faint
sniggerings; but the apartments of Sorais herself -- whom I devoutly
pitied if she happened to be there -- were silent as the grave.
There was absolutely no end to that awful song, with its eternal
'I will kiss thee!' and at last neither I nor Sir Henry, whom
I had summoned to enjoy the sight, could stand it any longer;
so, remembering the dear old story, I put my head to the window
opening, and shouted, 'For Heaven's sake, Good, don't go on talking
about it, but _kiss_ her and let's all go to sleep!' That choked
him off, and we had no more serenading.
The whole thing formed a laughable incident in a tragic business.
How deeply thankful we ought to be that even the most serious
matters have generally a silver lining about them in the shape
of a joke, if only people could see it. The sense of humour
is a very valuable possession in life, and ought to be cultivated
in the Board schools -- especially in Scotland.
Well, the more Sir Henry held off the more Sorais came on, as
is not uncommon in such cases, till at last things got very queer
indeed. Evidently she was, by some strange perversity of mind,
quite blinded to the true state of the case; and I, for one,
greatly dreaded the moment of her awakening.
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