ABSTRACT
He crossed the farmyard and went into the garden, under the old archway, and then, just as he was about to enter, he heard a voice singing, and was arrested. The window of the large room on the right was open, and a glow of firelight warmed the background. From it came the sound of a piano being played, and of a woman’s voice accompanying it. Aglionby trod softly up to the window and looked in. The fire burnt merrily. Judith Conisbrough sat at the piano, with her back to him, softly playing; her voice had ceased, and presently the music ceased also. Then she began again, and sang in a contralto voice, sweet, natural, and strong, if uncultivated, a song which Aglionby was surprised to hear. He would not have 115expected her to sing foreign songs – if this could be called foreign. He folded his arms upon the window-ledge and gazed in and listened, and the music, after all the other strange and dreamful incidents of that day, sank into his inmost soul. ‘Oever de stillen Straten, Geit klar de Glockenslag. God’ Nacht! Din Hart will slapen; Un’ Morgen is oock een Dag. ‘Din Kind liggt in de Wegen, Un’ik bin oock bi’ Di’; Din Sorgen un’ Din Leven Sind aliens una uns bi’. ‘Noch eenmal lat uns spräken, Goden Abend, gode Nacht. Di Maand schient up’ de Däken, Uns Herrgott hält de Wacht.’ *
