fell in the words of an old Spanish Folk Song:
"Little shoes are sold at the gateway of Heaven
And to all the tattered little angels are given.
Slumber, my darling, slumber, my darling,
Slumber, my darling do-do,
Dodo—Dodo—
Ave Maria—Dodo."
Many, many times before had Hernando heard it; but now, to the instinct of motherhood in the breast of all true women were added the exact intonation and subtle potential moods of the artiste. Hernando's keen musical feelings revelled in the liquid notes of the singer's voice so perfectly attuned to the throbbing strings.
"Little shoes are sold at the gateway of Heaven
And to all the tattered little angels are given,"
sang Celeste.
Her listener turned and looked at her with her figure silhouetted against the glowing western sky, not a line of her exquisitely moulded proportions escaping him.
