CHAPTER XXI.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 355, 30 March 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER XXI.

"come, sixg to me, s\vj:kt nightingale." Mks Mornington could not think of march" ing out before Mrs Shopperton ; Mrs Shepperton did not like to precede Mrs Morningbon for fear of taking too much upon herself : but when, aftei various feints and passes, it became evident that somebody must lead the way, they solved the difficulty by soiling through the doorway arm in-arm as if they had been the most intimate of friends instead of the most indifferent of neighbours. As she passed r Lord Pushington, Ethel smiled sweetly, and uttered a little careless remark, while Dulcie, steadily avoided Mr Denver's ardent glances — rendeied still more so by the quantity of wine he had drunk during dinner. Then the door closed after their retreating forms, and once more they established themselves in the drawing-room. The ladies sat down in various corners, and listlessly awaited the arrival of the gentlemen, the elders making a few occasional observations devoid of much originality ; but no sooner was the noise of masculine voices heard ,in the distance than their countenances assumed a sudden animatioT. They no longer indulged in negligent postures, but, carefully arranging their skirts, sat bold upright like a sep> of performing poodles at the word ' attention, 5 while all in a minute they seemed to find an immense deal to say to each other. After idling for a few seconds at the doorway Mr Denver went up to Mrs Shepperton and said, ' I trust you have contrived to amuse yourself in our absence. An unlucky bachelor like myself is somewhat at a disadvantage in having no one to do the honours of his house for him. I hope, however, that we have not seemed, very discourteous.' ' Please don't think of such a thing,' answered Mrs Sheppertou, graciously. 'It is impossible to teel dull in such a lovely room as this, and with so many beautiful things to look at. You must be quite an artist in your tastes, and, I presume, are botk-a draughtsman and a musician ?' ' Unfortunately lam neither, though I delight in listening to music. That remiqds i»e,-do any ot your daughters ping? If so, will they favour us to a song ?' Mrs Shepperton was charmed at this qp- [ portunity of showing off their accomplishments. . 'Yes,' she said. 'Ethel and Dulcie both sing; and, although perhaps I, ao hermother, ought not to .say so, Ethel possesses a remarkably sweet voice. Ethel, dearest child,' addressing the young lady in honeyed accents, ' don't you think you could manage that lovely tune out of the Barbiere you were trying over with Signor Giuseppe when he came to give you your lesson ? You know the one I mean !' Ethel, thus appealed to, after a consideiable amount of preliminary pressing, thought r that she could manage- it, whereupon Mr Denver and Lord Pushington escorted her to the piano. She sat daintily down on the music.-Stool, gracefully arranged the folds of her dress, and, after playing a few introductory chords, commenced to sing. The aria selected was a somewhat ambitious one for an amateur to attempt ;, but she had been well taught, and pqssessed a very true, clear, and' flexible voice that enabled her to execute the various runs and shakes with comme'riclable precision. Much to Mr Denver's -surprise, the performance proved decidedly above the average. ' Nevertheless, finished as was Ethel's execution, her singing failed to appeal to the heart,* and lacked the true sympathetic ring. It was hard and devoid ot expression, although extremely correct. • Meanwhile, Mr Denver crossed over to where Dulcie was sitting hemmed in between her mother and Mrs Mornington, feeling too shy to go near Bob, who stood with his back to the chimney-piece, looking rather cross, and talking to Mr Greyson about a cricket match. 'And now, Miss Dulcie,' he said, addressing the girl, 'it is your turn to per- , form. I have the greatest curiosity to hear what sort of a voice will issue from between those rosy lips. Is it a deep contralto, or a high sopranolike your sister's ? I am lost in wonderment and speculation.' ' You don't know how exquisitely beautiful my singing i 3,' returned the girl, jestingly. ' Unfortunately, I reserve it for the members of my own family.' ' I see that you are obstinate,' he said, with the frown which invariably disfigured his brow on the slightest, opposition-,;' 4 bub I shall appeal to head-quarters. Don.'t you agree with me, Mrs Shepperton,' addressing that lady ;( ' in r thinking that little birds who can sing and "won't sing should be madt to. sing V '"Most certainly,' she said, emphatically. ' Get up, Dulcie,' turning imperatively towards her daughter, ' and do as you are bid"! this minute.' Dulcie dared not disobey so positive a command. She rose reluctantly from her seat. ■ ' ' But I can'.t sing, mamma — at least, not in company — you know quite well I can't.' 'Fiddle-de-dee!- Oome, child, let's have no more nonsense, or I shall get angry. 5 Poor Dulcie looked up piteously into the face of her tormentor, bub it showed no signs of relenting. ' ' It's all your doing !' she said indignantly., ' You might just as well have left me alone.' t 'That's exactly what I did not wish to do,' he answered. ; 1 1 only knowEngli&h »songs, 5 said Dulcie sullenly, tearing viciously -at her white kid gloves. . • < ■ . ' All thebetter. I have a fancy to hear you in some good old-fashioned ballad. Any j simple thing that you croon over to yourseif I in the school - room when nobody is present.' ' Thus adjured, &he sat down to the piano, trembling all over like an aspen-leaf, for she felt - terribly nervous, • novel* in her life

having performed before so large an audience as this. She "thought for one second, and then began sotfcly playing the prelude of that 'touching old musical romance, 'Huntingtower.' • The sound of her own voice as, , low and tromulous, it went quivering through the room, frightened her atfirstworse tlian ever; but gradually, while she sang stye forgot her immediate sensations, forgot the lighted room, forgot Mr Denver's antipathetic presence, forgot Ethel's sneois and criticisms, forgot everything and everybody in the world except Bob Mornington ; and that Bob, like Jamie of the song, would soon bo far, far away. The thought lent a passionate tenderness to every utterance. ' When s r egang awa," Jamie, Far across the sea, laddie ■When yo gang 1 to Germanic, (only Dulcio thought it should have- been the Rocky Mountains. ) "What will you aend to me, laddie P ' I'll send ye a braw new gown, Jeanie, The brawost in tho town, lassie, Ami it shall bo o' silk and gowd, VVT Valenciennes set round, lassie.' < i ' That's nae gift, a^ a, Jamie, Silk and gowd, and a', laddie. There's ne'er a gown in a' Iho land I'd hko when yc'ro awa, laddie.' ' When I come back again, Jcanio, Frae a foreign land, laasic, I'll bring wi mo a gallant gay To be your am gudomon, lassio:' • *■ Be my gu.demon youracV Jamie, Marry me yoursol,' Jadtlip. And take me o'er to Gorman ie, Wi you at name to dwell, ladcUc.' When ' she ceased, it seemed to, her audience as if they had been listening to the artless prayer of a fresh and innocent voice possessing that rare quality of timbre and tone expressed by the comprehensive Italian word ' It, seemed to cotpe bbiaight from the depths-of her heart in sweet imploring a6cenfs, which thrilled through tho room, touching her lisfcenors j strangely, and waking in them soft-answer-ing emotions. They felt that this was a natural gift, an intangible, mysterious force, centred in ,the person of one frail girl, which affected them in spite of themselves, and^mac^e them bow 1 down before the power of true impassioned song. For the;space of a few seconds an absolute silence prevailed. It was as if a ,spell had been cast over the entire company, and the same instinct stirred thoir breasts. Then Mr Denver came forward, and. clapping his hands enthusiastically, said in tones of genuine admiration : r , , 'Oh ! you naughty, paug.hjty little nightingale ! "What did you-j'i^eau b,y telling me such a story, and saying'/^you, could not sing? VVhy, you are a', heaven- born songstress !' . , Dulcie smiled gravely. ' She.had.thipjvn such intensity^ of jfecling into her song that the forces wqrkirig^within her wer,e not yet quieted, .making it difficult to "descend from the clqud^i^tOjthe work : a-day world. 'That reminds mo,' continued Mr Qenver volubly. ' Wpjuld you like to , hear a real nightingale? There is one, in the'garden who sings quite divinely. What do you say, Miss Dulcie ? Qr is your artistic soul up in arms at the thought of a rival, even though he be ftut a leathered one, hidden away in some dark bush or tall tiee top?' * I trust that my "artistic soul,"' as you are good enough to term it, would not be capable of such petty jealousy.' Mr Denver opened a window and looked out. It was a lovely evening— psrfectly still save for a gentle breeze that rustled softly among the leaves, faintly stirring tho topmost branches of the trees. Overhead, the sky was decked with tender wreaths of vaporous cloud, through which the bright moon shone fitfully, oh'edding' a silvery sheen on the green grass, and' lending it a weirdly grey aspect. The stars gleamed' like gems in the pure firmament, while the little brook gurgling through the 'diatiant meadows ever <aud anon reflected a moon- • beam, and glanced likeathinstreakof hurrying brilliancy "athwart the landscape. Sucha night as 1 conjures up all sorts of sweet tropical visions — the clear air, the graceful palm, the sandy desert, the meek, sponge tooted camel, and dark, white-turbaned driver. 1 The young people now trooped out on to the lawn like children fresh from 'schoolj and before long paired oft in various directions. Bob, who had as yet scarcely found an opportunity of Speaking to Dulcie', went J ,up to her at once, and tried to enter into conversation : but Mr Denver insisted on carrying her off in search of the nightingale, and disappeared down a secluded pathway. Bob lit" up a cigar, and began pacing up and,, down like a sentry, determined that, sooner or later, ' he would 'have his turn. Meanwhile Mr Denver was on excessively good terms with himself, and although he did nob succeed in finding the nightingale, . chuckled gleefully over his rival's disc6rn-\ fiture. " ' TwoVcotnpariyand three's none,' he re~marked,'in tones ot satisfaction to his companion. -'Don't you agree with me, M iss Dulcie ?' ' That depends entirely upon wJio the third person is, 1 ' she answered cautiously. She had no notion of walking up and down isolated pathways with Mr Denver ! whilst Bo.b was in the garden, probably waiting for her reappearance. ' I'm. sorry you're nob happy, ' he said, coolly. ' I call it awfully jolly out here. The stars and the moon make a fellow feel quite sentimental. Do you ever feel senti.mental, Dulcie ?' ' Ho, never,' very decidedly. ' By-the-way, do yQU'-not think our friend Bob looked like a fish out ot water this evening? He does not appear. altogether in his element among&t ladies. _At least, ,so it struck 'me. He seems uncommonly shy and awkward. 5 ' 'It would be better for some people,' answeredDulcie, iii tones of growing irritation, 'if they possessed. a little more of Bob's shyness and awkwardness. Some .ladies,'' laying a marked emphasis on Lhe words, ' prefer shyness and awkwardness to — to — flippant remarks and perpetual seeers, Ido for one.' „ She was very angry, and her e\es flashed fire. , <■ ' * By Jove 'what a little turkey-cock it is to be sure ! I suppose that speech is meant for trie ''again, as usual. You are awfully down on a fellow, Miss Dulcie.' , ' 1 don't think I am a bit — at least,' sarcastically, ' not a bit more than " a fellow deserves.' ' ! ' Wbi'se' and -worse, 5 he exclaimed, with a mocking smile. 'You are a desperate hard hitter : but tell, me, now that we are quite alone by our own selves, why is it you are always 'so' unkind whenever I try to show you the least civility ?' As he spoke, he edged familiarly towards her, and peered into her, face with a. bold look of admiration that sont the hob blood ' tingling to her cheeks, Young as she was, there was no misunderstanding its expression, and her eyelids quivered and dropped' be'fore his Searching gaze. ' I— I — am not very unkind,' she stammered, feeling terribly corifused. Then her sense of rectitude overcame her, and ! she added — ' not very, that is to say.' 1 'Aha!- IsmI 5 m glad you threw in the concluding clause. You admit to being alittlo unkind, then ?' She turned her head away, and plucking a shiny laurel-leaf, began pulling it to pieces with feverish energy.

'„' The wine and the- stars combined were rendering Mr Denver most unpleasantly attentive. 'Do you liko Bob bettor than you . do me ?' he asked, with a sudden fit of foolish jealousy. Was there ever such an idiotic question ? • Of course I doi' she said, more candidly than politely ;] but she was determined on putting an ond to this nonsense. ' I have known him all tny life.' Mr Denver began whistling softly to himself, but that comparatively harmless sound aggravated Dulcie still further. • Hadn't we better go back ?' she asked abruptly. ' The nightingale is not going to sing to-night, that's very clear ; and we've come quite far enough.' ' 'No, not just yet. It's so jolly out here, and thero's no hurry. Besides,' lowering his voice into a confidential whisper, ' 1 i want to ask you something.' Her heart began to flutter. She had merely disliked the situation before,' now sho was getting a/raid of it. ' What is it ?' she said, faintly, wishing Bob or anyone would appear. ' This, Miss Dulcie,' fixing his keen grey eves, now dancing with a Bacchus-like | light, full upon her ; ' don't you think that I when you and I are more intimately acquainted it is just possible you may get to be a little friendlier — a little more reI sponsive, you know, and all that s!ort oi thing ?' i ' I don't understand what you moan by I " that sore of thing," sho said, trying hard ' to keep cool, ' and I am not blessed with a responsive disposition. What's the use of 'asking foolish questions that you can't possibly expect mo to answer ?' peevishly. They weie quite alone, in a dark winding path, with tall branching trees arching overhead, and the thick undergrowth gave forth a moist smell that came borne to their nostrils on the soft night air. The moon, which had been temporarily hidden behind a passing cloud, now glided out with redoubled brilliancy, beaming thiough the thick foliage down on to the grey lichencovered tree-trunks, and on the girl's .sweet profile and white frock, through whose tran&paient folds her round young arms and neck gleamed like polished marblo. ' Mr Denver's brain was heated by the wine he had drunk, a sudden thrill glowed in his veins, passion seized his senses, making him yield to the spur of tho moment. ' It is not a foolish question,' she cried, almost 'fieiccly. 'And 1 expect you to answer' it this moment.' So saying, ho put his arm round the girl's waist and bent his flushed face down to hers. - f, ""' • >i 'Dalcie;'' ( -tie -whispered, 'sweet little .Dulcie — do yW not know how awfully pretty you are? Vl'V 1 ' For one Single second, terror, amazement, and disgust kept her rooted to the' spot. She lemained in 'his 1 clasp ' like a living statue struck dumb;, then a look of horror, mingled with unutterable loathing, stole into th 6 lovely fiower-like face. ' How dare you,' she said, in tones of withering contempt. ' How dare you speak to me so ?' She struggled madly to free hertelf, but an evil light shone in "his eyes, and he held her firmly. ' ' Pretty one,' he said, ' don't be so cross. Give me a kiss — just one. It can do no harm.' It was -the, voice and the subtle special pleading -of the serpent, but they were powerlets to harm her. With a violent wrench, and with a strength of which a minute before she could not have believed she was capable, she torp herself from his grasp, and then, when "she was free, she lilted up her white palm and gave him • a slap in the face — a good, honest, vigordus-skp, which echoed throtrgh the wood 1 . ' \ ' ' , Whereupon she set to work to run — as &h6 hod never run in her whole life before. She ran on 'and on, panting, gasping, quivering, and indignant, until she almost .tumbled into the arms of Bob Mor'ington, was still smoking disconsolately in the moonlight, meditating on the fickle nature of things in general and woman in particular. „ 'Is that you, Dulcie?' he exclaimed, fairly astonished at seeing her come bounding towards him like a racehorse put 011 its mettle. ' Why !' looking at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, ' what on earth is the matter?' 'Oh ! Bob !' she gasped, clutching nervously at his sleeve, ' take me indoois at once, else 1 shan't feel safe — even with you/ ' Plat, anything happened to frighten you> Dulcie ?' ' Bob ! That horrid man !' That hoi rid,' Iwrrld man ! , Don't let him come near me again on any account. I shall faint, or — or — die if he does,' shuddering violently. ' WJbat lion id man do you mean, Dulcie, dear?' 'though he knew quite" well whom she alluded 'to.' ''.Mr Denver,' she said passionately.' 'I hate him.' ' Never mind, Dulcie dearest. You'ic all right now. Nobody shall hurt or frighten you whilst I am here ; I will' take precious good care o( that. ' Come, let's have a little turn, and then we had better go indoors. You are not afraid of anything now, are you V drawing her little hand, as he spoke, through his arm with a protecting gesture,' which insensibly restored her confidence She could feel how the strong muscles quivered and throbbed under her touch, and her own pulses quickened responsively. 1 '.No, Bob,' softly re-echoing his words, with a little involuntary sigh of content. 'I'm not afraid of anything now.' ' Tell me what has happened, Dulcie, for you have only to give the word of commandj and I will punch that fellow's head j with pleasure. I fancy,' smiling proudly, ' that if it came to a fair stand-up tight, he, would get six to 'four the worst of it.' • Hush, Bob ! there is no occasion for any fighting. Do not Jet us say more" about it. The subject is not a pleasant one.' i Bob listened gravely. j . He felt Dqlcie had been insulted, and his immediate instinct was'to avenge that ins>ult; still, if she chose to keep him in ignorance of its nature, he did not quite see how he was to set about the work of vengeance. * How well you sang to-night, Dulcie,' ho observed after a lengthened' 'pause. 'I liked that song awfully. It' suited your voice down to the ground.' ' I'm glad you liked it, Bob. I felt very nervous at having to perform in public. ' ' Do you know,' and as he spoke he took possession of the small fingers resting on his arm, ' all of a sudden, while you were singing, such a curious fancy seized me, a fancy that has haunted me ever since. I wonder now,' with a questioning glance, ' if my idea were correct;, whether you would tell me so t ' What was it, Bob ? Something more than commonly foolish ?' toying to stifle the beatings of her heart. ' No, not at all foolish — at least, I did not consider it so. Well, when you sang it came into my head that you were — Dulcie, don't think mo awfully conceited — that you were thinking of me, of my probably having to go far away. I thought to myself, she is soiry to lose me, sorry I shall not be thero to hear her sing this time next year, sorry that we shall have to part and say good- by 0 to ono an-

other. Dulcie,' he^ whispered, bending down till his ! fair, j close - cropped head almost touched Hers, "tell me if that thought was .true ; tell mo, f sweet one, if it had any foundation, except in' the workings of my own imagination.' The nighb wind blew in little' languid waves of air again3t her cheeks,^ seeming, with its soft,, cool ki&se3, to 'calm all the troubled ( senses of her being. At that moment hor heart leapt out to his, but her eyos wore downcast, and she remained silent. His words were like sweet music that one fancies one has heard, then pauses expectant before making sure the &oulstirring notes are true. ' ' Was I wrong, Dulcie '! Have you nothing to tell me ?' Then she lifted up her face to his, quietly, seriously, trustfully, with a light of a • perfect faith and love irradiating every feature. ' Bub,' .she said, simply, ' you have guessed the truth. Had it not been for you, I. never could have sungas I did.' And lo ! the nightingale they had come out to find, and who hitherto had remained mute, stilling his rippling warblings in his dusky throat, suddenly bur&t forth into song ; into a glorious trill of harmony, ! loud, powerful, triumphant, yet sweetly clear as the sound of falling water, or of silvery bolls jangled together in joyous / pa-ans of melody. I,t tilled the silent woods ; seeming to mount up higher, ever higher, giving back to the Creator what He had lent to earth. The sparkling notes quavered and trilled, melted and shook, -till the very air thrilled in responsive waves of joyous sound to the sweet night-music. The clear moon spread her mystic beams o'er the boeorn of the earth, the leafage ti enabled in the balmy breeze, the sky. 'Stretched overhead like' a pure palo grey vault, and beneath it two human, hearts, animated by a first and innocent love, beat in rapturous unison.