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Poor old Theophilus and I had a touching meeting. He's about as lonely a thing as you could wish to meet. He married an American heiress, who died about eight years ago, and he's as rich as Croesus. We're bosom friends now. As for Mrs. Ronald I sang her songs of Araby including Gounod's 'Ave Maria' with lots of tremolo and convinced her that I'm a saintly personage.
As he flies over in bounding waves, calling "Swe-eet! swe-eet!" often ending with an entrancing tremolo, your very soul is taken captive. What would you not give to see the dainty cradle of his younglings!
The instructor was a superior singer, such as I have heard but few times, and the song at its best is one of our most choice, consisting of two short notes followed by a tremolo perhaps an octave higher, in a loud clear ring like a silver-toned bell. "Was never voice of ours could say Our inmost in the sweetest way Like yonder voice."
He began again, TREMOLO AGITATO, CON MOLTO SENTIMENTO: "O EGO TE AMARE TANTUM! NEMO SAPIT NIHIL. DUCHESSA IN BARCA AQUATICA CUM MAGNA COMPANIA. REDIBIT TARDISSIMO. NIENTE TIMOR. AMARE MULTISSIMO! EGO MORIRE FINE TE. MORIRE. MORITURUS. CAPITO? NON CAPIRE? Oh, CAPIRE be blowed!" There was a short pause. The language seems to have been understood this time.
It was a fleeting effect, but it did seem as if she had almost laughed, then caught herself. And there was a tremolo defect in the organ tone with which she now again demanded in blistering politeness, "May I ask what this means?" The quick-thinking Merle twin had by now devised an exit from any complicity in whatever was meant. He saw his way out.
When it was time for me to come down from my upward flight in order to help the tenor, the Marquis again waved his right hand in the air to attract my attention, while he thundered a tremolo with his left, to keep the accompaniment going until he was sure that everything was right.
I saw the dogs discover and recognize him and welcome his aid, yet I kept my closest watch on that tree's boughs and on Charlotte. She was wondering, I guessed, whether the call was from some messenger of Ferry, or was only a bird's cry. As if she decided it was the latter, she moved away, and had nearly re-crossed the room, when the same sad tremolo came searching the air again.
It is in this direction, and I could come any afternoon by train for half an hour?" "No. Don't come!" "What aren't we going to be friends, then, any longer, as we used to be?" "No." "I didn't know that. I thought you were always going to be kind to me!" "No, I am not." "What have I done, then? I am sure I thought we two " The tremolo in her voice caused her to break off.
I dragged it out plaintively, with a vox humana tremolo on the coaxing little refrain. Finally I heard a smothered snort, and the door suddenly opened and Dinky-Dunk picked me up, mouth-organ and all. He shook me and said I was a little devil, and I called him a big British brute. But he was laughing and a wee bit ashamed of his temper and was very nice to me all the rest of the evening.
What if the whim should seize him to pipe a trill or a quaver to the water witches of the meadow, as Master Song Sparrow so often chooses to do? Then he simply needs to set his tongue and throat to quivering, and you have his enrapturing tremolo. Beautiful, is it not? There are birds that send a kind of guttural sound from their throats, such as the cuckoos and occasionally the blue jays.
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