Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой
Chapter VII
”
“MayIwhisper?”inquiredhislordship,devouredbycuriosity.
“Whatisit?”saidhisgrandfather.
“Whoarethey?”
“Someofyourancestors,”answeredtheEarl,“wholivedafewhundredyearsago.”
“Perhaps,”saidLordFauntleroy,regardingthemwithrespect,“perhapsIgotmyspellingfromthem.”Andthenheproceededtofindhisplaceinthechurchservice.Whenthemusicbegan,hestoodupandlookedacrossathismother,smiling.Hewasveryfondofmusic,andhismotherandheoftensangtogether,sohejoinedinwiththerest,hispure,sweet,highvoicerisingasclearasthesongofabird.Hequiteforgothimselfinhispleasureinit.TheEarlforgothimselfalittletoo,ashesatinhiscurtain-shieldedcornerofthepewandwatchedtheboy.Cedricstoodwiththebigpsalteropeninhishands,singingwithallhischildishmight,hisfacealittleuplifted,happily;andashesang,alongrayofsunshinecreptinand,slantingthroughagoldenpaneofastainedglasswindow,brightenedthefallinghairabouthisyounghead.Hismother,asshelookedathimacrossthechurch,feltathrillpassthroughherheart,andaprayerroseinittoo,—aprayerthatthepure,simplehappinessofhischildishsoulmightlast,andthatthestrange,greatfortunewhichhadfallentohimmightbringnowrongorevilwithit.Thereweremanysoft,anxiousthoughtsinhertenderheartinthosenewdays.
