LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1636, 19 May 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

GE'ITY CARNEGIE'S SONG.

Bv M. S.

'Ten minutes to ten—if I hurry I shall catch the ten-iifteen train, and may manage to be back to dinner at two, mamma.'

So saying, Gertie Carnegie, with deft lingers, rolls up a pieco of manuscript music, and thou runs up stairs to equip herself for the expedition to town. Gerty is in deep mourning. Only five months ago she lost her brave, noble, sailor father, a captain of an ocean steamer, that was lost with all souls on board among the icebergs. He has left his widow and only child wholly unprovided for, and they have to depend upon their own exertions for the means of their subsistence,

Fo Gerty, who is a brave girl well as a pretty one, has thrown herself with her whole youthful energy into the task of teaching music, and the other day has even attempted a composition ; it is a song set to Tennyson's ' FI-jw down, co'd rivulet, to the sea,' a very ambitious undertaking; but what is there too high for the ambition of youth ? The precious W0:-k of art, neatly copied, olio is now on the point of taking up to one of the music publishers in London—-she is living with her mother at Wimbledon—and her heart beats high as ehe gives herself up to the architecture of airy ediflees, furnished with fame, success, and prosperity. She hurries to the Putney station, and jumps into an empty-looking carriage, and takes her seat with her baok to the locomotive.

1 There's no one. with her in the carriage, so (Her ;y b< gins to sing he - S"iig, partly out of the fullness of her glad young heart, par ly with the purpose of exercising her voice a little, for she hopes to be permitted to eing it 10 Mr Doysy ; she has a clear and ay mpa

tbetic mezzo -soprano, and, pleased with her own performance, repeats her song over and over again. Suddenly she is startled by a cough bohind her—a manly cough, and, oh, horror! as she quickly turns round, she beholds in the far corner of the adjoining compartment a man.

Dreadful! Has she been giving an unsolicited concert to this abominable stranger, who dares to sit there, and, with admiring impertinence, take off his hat to her ? She feels inclined to cry with shame and mortification.

Luckily the train slackens speed at this moment, and in her hurry to get rid of the man, Gerty is oven willing to risk her life in an attempt at jumping out while the train is still in rnoti< n, but the refractory window saves her, for, wrestle as she may, it refuses to slide down and permit her to open the door.

• Thank heaven!' she ejaculatos, a.% she rapidly presses through the crowd of passengers, snd hastens down towards the Waterloo omnibos she descries at the entrance to the station.

As Gerty nears her destination, she finds, to her dismay, that her roll of music, which she had fanoied safe in her muff, has vanished.

Tears rise to her eyes, and she desires the conductor to stop, for she must go back to the station and see—an infinitesimal chance —if she has lost it on the way from the platform to the omnibus. Of course she finds nothing—not a trace of the precious document, and, with dismay, she remembers that she has committed the imprudence to throw the rough copy into the fire.

Poor Gerty 1 She asks one or two porters whether they have found anything, but they only reply with a stare of indifference and a half contemptuous 'No, miss,' and pass on ; so there remains nothiug for her but to return home.

' Oh, mamma, I am the unluckiesfc girl in this hateful world I' and sha sobs forth her pitiful tale. ' Well, my poor dear child, don't cry about it,'her mother says, soothingly ; 'of course it is very provo'ung, but after all it only entails a second copying, and that I will do for you if you have not the heart for it. Where's your roug'a copy?' 'Burned mamma.' ' But, Gerty how silly. How could you destroy it so thoughtlessly ?' ' Oh, don't scold, mamma. Never mind, it is gone—and—l'll—l'll—never —write—another,' poor Gerty sobs, in great woe. 'Nonsense, you'll remember every note of it, and just write it out again, that's all ' ' Never, mamma. It is a bad omen; it tells me that I am not to succeed as a composer, so there's an end to that dream. And now let us have some dinner, and then I must go up to the terrace, and give my leseons at Mrs HurmonV

And Gerty dries her tears, and tries to put on a cheerful face, and to do justice to the frugal rep»st that is presently set before her.

In the afternoon she departs rather heavy* hearted, and with lagging steps, on her daily duty of teaching. At the Harmons she finds her two pupils, the twins, Winny and Ethel in a state of glowing excitement. ' Oh, Miss Carnegie, papa has consented to our giving such a jolly party on the fifteenth, our birthday, you know. There's to ba a dinner party first for the fogies, and then we are to have music and singing, and to wind up with a dance. And yeu must come. It would be so kind if you would just sing a song or two, and Winny and I are to sing our duet, and then you must f-tay and join in the dancing with the rest of us do!'

' I don't dance at present, you know Ethel, but I will como with pleasure, and help you all I can to amuse your guests, and I'll play for the dancing, then you need, not trouble to engage anyone. The fifteenth, you say ? That's to-morrow week. Very well—it will suit me perfectly.' And then the lossons are given, and Gerty returns home in the dark, drizzly January evening, forgetting all about the party, and thinking of nothing but her lost song. The week goes by, and on the eve of the party Mrs Carnegie asks—- ' By-the bye, Gerty, what are you geing to sing to-morrow evening at the Harmons ?'

'Oh, I don't know, mamma. Anything that comes into my head at the time. It does not signify in the least. The people—the old ones, I mean—will have eaten so much dinner that they'll be content to doze to any ditty, and the young ones will wish it over a 3 quickly as possible so as to commence the dancing. My singing will merely be a stop-gap, and the choice of songs, therefore, immaterial.' ' What a lovely girl!' Tom Wentworth remarks to his cousin, Ethel Harmon, next evening, as Oerty makes her appearance In the drawing room. ' Who is she ? I fancy I have seen her face before.'

' Yes, she does look lovely to-night. That black gauze drets sets off her brilliant complexion,'Rthel rejoins. 'She is Miss Carnegie, our music mistress, and I'll introduce you to her presently. But you must come and sing first. You can spoon afterwards. Come. I'll play your accompaniments if yon like. What will you sing—" Tom Bowling ?'" ' No, I've sung that at every party these last three years. I'll sing a new song and play my own accompaniment by heart, thank you all the same, Bitty.'

And Mr Wentworlh seats himself at the piano. What is that ? " Flow down, cold rivulet to the sea."

Gerty listens with straining ears. Is she dreaming 1 Her own song I Hew dare any ono

But as she stands and listens, her heart beating fast, the tears come welling up to her eyes, and she hastily steps behind a window curtain to hide her emotion.

Mr Wentworth has a good tenor voice, and sings simply and unaffectedly, and with intelligent interpretation, and somehow Gertie is more deeply affected by her own song than she has over been before. The song ceases, and Gertie still stands listening. She hears the comments and plaudits on the song and the singer, and her heart exults.

She steps from her hiding-place presently, and ia immediately accosted by Ethel Harmon with a request to take the now vacant seat at the piano. ' But lirst let me introduce my cousin, Mr Wentworth, Miss Carnegie. Has he not a splendid voice, and did he not sing that lovely song splendidly V 'Would you object to telling me from whom you obtained that song, Mr Wentworth ?' Gertie asks.

' Not at all. It was in the oddest way. I found it in front of a railway carriage at Waterloo Station, probably dropped there by a young lady who had been tinging it about half a dozen times In the carriage, fanoying herself alone ; I imagine, and ' He comes to a fullhtop, and a look of amazed recognition cotnea into his face as he notices Gerty'a confusion,

'By Jove ! you ate the young lady, I've been wanting to iind you ever sinco. I tried to trace you at the time, but you had vanished, and I have been advertising for you the whole of last week. How is it you never real the advertisements ?'

' I never see the papers. lam so glad it is found, for I wanted to take it to the publishers '

' Then it is you" own composition. I had no idea of it, I thought it was simply something y u were practicing for your singing lesson '

- erty blushes crimson at the recollection of that absurd vocal j mrney up to Waterloo, Then the petition for a song from her being repeated, Bhe complies, aud she sings and loo'i3 her very best, and Tom Wentworth gazes and listens in rapt admiration. Liter on in tho evening, he persuades her to walk through a quadrille with him, and pro ently saya • I'll tell you what, Miaa Carnegie. Lot me take your song t > tho publishers. I am pe'sonally acqoaint'd with Mr W., and although your charming song can stand on its own merit, yet these publishers a r o "kittle cattle." and perhaps 1 may bo able

to manage it better for you than you oould for yourself.'

Gerty gladly accepts the offer. The Bong is published. Gerty does not know till many months later that it has been at Tom's expense, ond the business necessitates so imny interviews between the two young people that nobody is surprised when, in the merry month of June, Oerfcy Carnegie is iurned into Mrs Thomas Wentworth.