Lavinia meanwhile was watching the proceedings with no little interest
and with not less nervousness. She had heard the talk and saw quite well
that she was about to be put to a severe test. She was to sing something
she had never sung before and possibly written in a style with which she
was unfamiliar. Gay approached her with a sheet of manuscript which he
put into her hand.
"You did very well, child," said he encouragingly. "But I want you to do
better. Dr. Pepusch will play the music for these verses on the
harpsichord. You must listen closely to the melody and take particular
note of the way he plays it. Then you will sing it. Here are the words
and the music. Study them while the doctor plays."
Lavinia looked at both in something like dismay. The music being
engraved was plainer than Gay's cramped handwriting. She knew she had
imitative gifts and that most tunes she heard for the first time she
could reproduce exactly. But that was for her own pleasure. She at such
times abandoned herself to the power of music. But for the pleasure of
others and to know that she was being criticised was a different matter.
Already she felt distracted. Could she fix her attention on the music
and think of nothing else?
There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house
and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the
open window.
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