The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 5 June 1919, Page 3

The Storyteller

THE WILD BIRDS OF KILLEEVY Rosa Mulholland. (By arrangement with Messrs. Burns and Oates, London.) (Continued.) CHAPTER XXVI.—FAN’S TRIUMPH. The signora was walking impatiently about the room, reflecting on the downfall of her own and Herr Harfenspieler’s hopes. Another disappointment was about to be added to the many troubles of her life. She cast remorseful glances at the large canvas that stood in the corner, with its face to the wall. Had she carefully guarded her pupil instead of wrapping herself in foolish dreams, this great misfortune might have been averted. “Oh me, oh me!” she moaned, “to think of all the care and pains we have lavished on her for nothing. Only that she may turn out a fine lady after all. Who could have imagined that Lord Wilderspin, in making himself so nobly the friend of genius, was but providing an unfortunate alliance for his nephew. The door flew open and Fan came in radiant. “Mamzelle,” she cried, springing to her side, “whether you like it or not, I cannot do without your sympathy. Yon must wish me joy.” The signora heaved a bitter sigh. “I cannot but wish you well. I have loved you too dearly for that. But the lady of Wilderspin must learn to be independent of so humble a person as myself.” “The lady?—oh, Mamzelle, you do not know what I mean. That is all over—at least—nothing more has been said, and I had forgotten it.” ‘ ‘Forgotten 1” “Mamzelle, you do not know what I have heard to put everything else out of my head. Kevin is found.” “Kevin shrieked Mamzelle, feeling that this was, indeed, “out of the frying-pan into the fire.” “Where is he?” she added, with an accent of despair. “I do not know.” “You said he was found.” “He is in the world; he has been seeking for me; he is clever and learned and a gentleman. Is not that enough ?” “Quite enouh for me,” said the signora, tragically, “and I. am glad to hear it is also enough for you.” “Ah, Mamzelle, had you never any childhood, any youth. Have you no recollections of early friends and home?” “It is my duty to think above all of your vocation.” “My vocation is in the hands of Providence. Heaven will not ask to sacrifice all natural feelings as you would do.” “Fanchea, you are unkind.” “I want to be kind, Mamzelle, and you will not let me. Kiss me, and I will not trouble you any more with my good’ news.” And Fan went away to her room and had a thorough good cry. For a nature so sympathetic as hers to be solitarily glad is a trial; and . she felt keenly the refusal of those around her to rejoice in her joy. She had early learned to keep her cares to herself, but to be happy in silence was a more difficult matter*. Y. Lord Wilderspin and Herr Harfenspieler had: almost quarrelled that afternoon on the subject of his lordship’s weakness in yielding to his nephew’s caprice. “The child is the child of genius,” said the professor. “A pedestal is awaiting her _ in the temple of Fame. Your lordship has generously chosen to put .her there her place;.and why should you suffer the

heir of your noble family to pluck -out' of -"Her proper iliche, to the detriment of . his own dignity ?”; ji. “Men of. his ' position have married women already famous on the stage,” growled his 7 lordship. It is better to take her artless and fresh, as she is.” Iss >:“His fancy' would pass away if you continued \o oppose him.” /. • “But I will not oppose him,” shouted Lord Wilderspin, thinking not of his nephew at all, but of the cruel redness round Fanchea’s bright eyes. “My lord, you —-—” “A fool?” said the old man, testily. “I could not think of applying such an epithet to your lordship,” said Herr Harfenspieler; and after that the two old men had sulked at each other for several hours. But as it is hard work sulking with an old and congenial friend in a lonely country house, they met in the evening as if nothing had happened. So conscious, however, was each member of the party of something vividly present in the mind which could not be alluded to in speech, that conversation was difficult, and an unusual silence hung over the dinner table. Afterwards music came to the rescue, and Fan’s singing and the professor’s violin-playing drowned a great deal of trouble for the moment. Having soothed himself into better humor by such accustomed means, Herr Harfenspieler bethought him of something to talk about which would have no sort of connection with the difficulties of the hour. A friend of his, an Englishman, one Mr. Honeywood, has sent him a volume of' poems, written by a young man in whom he (Honeywood) was deeply interested. He left the room and returned with a book, which he gave to Captain Rupert. “Ah, I remember this,” said Captain Rupert, turning over the leaves. “I am not a great reader of poetry, but some things in this volume won on me very much. Here, for instance, is what I call a delightful song.” He glanced at Fanchea, taking in all the grace of the light, white-clothed figure, the dark little head and sparkling face that leaned forward in the lamplight to listen ; and then ho read the poem aloud. “Sweet,” said Herr Harfenspieler. “It ought to be set to music for our songstress.” Fan gazed around on her friends. Mamzelle had approached and listened ; his lordship, with a preliminary grunt of protest, had given ear to the reading, and now stood silent, all under-lip and scowl. The poem had found a tender spot in every heart of the group, for there was that in the four faces which cannot be either affected or denied. How strange, thought Fanchea, that their hearts should all bow to these words, and yet have so little sympathy for the mindful tenderness that had caused her joy to-day. Her own heart yearned to the comprehending soul that -.had so given a voice to her fidelity. She worshipped in silence the Master Spirit that had spoken to them all with one breath, in the language of each. “That is the true voice,” she said impulsively to Herr Harfenspieler. “Song can only be its echo.” “Nay, music is often its inspiration,” said the -professor, jealously, while Captain Rupert looked on angry, enraptured, wondering at the look that this poem had called into her face. He realised in that moment the heights of her nature, and knew that to fail in exciting the highest devotion she was capable of would be to; lose her. altogether. A -I Her eyelashes wet with the tears of enthusiasm, Fan picked up the volume, which Rupert had laid on the table, and turned over the leaves, seeking for more of that divine music whose vibrations were still thrilling in her brain. Accidentally her eye fell* on the title-page, and a cry broke from her lips. “What is the matter?” asked several voices. Captain Rupert came close to her, with a presage of trouble. All eyes were turned on her in surprise. “Well, madam, what have you got there?” said his lordship.

/ “Why, it“ is Kevin!” she cried, bursting into a peal of rapturous ■ laughter. : “Kevin who has wrung all your hearts arid brought the. tears into your eyes. Kevin is the poet we have been-worshipping whom you despised.” ; V -?■ “Kevin!” was echoed around,' “Yes, Kevin,” she said, standing on her tip-toes and smiling down on them in her triumph. “Look at the name for yourselves—K-e-v-i-n, and the other is his surname.” “Allow mo to introduce my old comrade, Kevin, to my dear and noble friends,” she went on, making a gleeful curtsy all round, and waving the precious volume above her head. “You, who have all been so good to me —you were afraid I should be ashamed of him when he appeared. My lord, have I reason to be ashamed suddenly wheeling about and facing him with eyes full of saucy triumph. “No, you baggage, no.” “Will no one congratulate me?” said Fan, with a sudden pathetic change of manner, folding her two little hands over the book and glancing wistfully round. “I congratulate you,” said Captain Rupert, and walked out of the room with a jealous heart. * “I will try to be glad,” said Herr Harfenspieler, rubbing his nose vehemently with his pocket-handker-chief. , “Mamzelle!” “I love you!” said the signora in her tragic way; but she did not look more pleased than Captain Rupert. “You expect vis to be glad,” said his lordship, “because this is a great fellow whom we can do nothing to serve.” Fan looked up at him with wide, grateful eyes, remembering all his bounty to her for years. “You,can allow him to shake you by the hand, my lord. “Little Simpleton, is that a benefit?” “No small boon, and no small honor,” lifting the old man’s hand and kissing it impulsively ; and, then Fan, smiling a loving look all round upon her friends as if thanking them for their scraps of sympathy, turned away abruptly, still hugging her book, and disappearedA solemn silence reigned in the room for some seconds after she went. Ilia lordship, striding about the floor, was the first to speak. “After all, we are a. pack of fools,” he said. “We ought to be thankful that the fellow is, as she says, one to be not ashamed of.” t “Captain Wilderspin is the only person who has serious cause to be displeased,” said the signora. “Ha!” ejaculated his lordship. s “I do not think we shall hear any more of his suit,” continued the signora, beginning her sentence on a triumphant note, and ending it on a sad one. “The genius of music may still carry the day,” said Herr Harfenspieler. “We may yet have the happiness of presenting our queen of song to the 'world.” His lordship glared round at them as if they had been plotting somebody’s death. He was ashamed to confess how completely'he had gone over to the enemy. In the few hours that had elapsed since that morning he had changed so thoroughly as to be more willing to have Fan for a beloved daughter than to see her a successful prima, donna. Confounded for one moment at coming face to face with his own inconsistency, the next he remembered nothing but the pair of red-rimmed eyes that had confronted him so bravely in his study. “By Heaven, he.; shall not jilt .her for any farfetched jealousy!” hq shouted. “You pair of Heartmurderers, robbers of the joys of youth, hypocrites, with your tender melodies, and poetic sympathy •■with human feelings would send the fellow away and put forth a crushed creature to give expression fewith her own misery to your humbugging music!” t And emphasising this outburst with a scowl of displeasure, he marched out of the room. A ‘ Arrived in her own chamber,:.Fan threw open her window and trimmed her lamp, and sat down to spend the night in reading Kevin’s book. Weeping and laughing with delight, her eyes flew over the pages that

were intended ; for herself alone, and that told the story <of their early comradeship, their parting,' and his continued, fruitless, but never hopeless search. yAn exquisite sense of happiness settled on the young girl’s heart as the mysterious union of their lives, long believed' in, became so suddenly proved to her. The history of the princess, related to her on the island long ago, had its place in the poem but not in death would her prince be restored to her ; the ending of the real life story would be the fulness of joy. Had she, indeed, been his inspiration, his genius, the cause of his attaining the heights be had reached ? Overwhelmed with bliss, she lay back in her chair to dream over what she had read, and the-first sunbeam found her fast asleep ; a smile on her parted lips, her small face bleached by an intensity of gladness. While dressing in the morning, she considered about how she was to communicate with Kevin, concluding to write him a letter, for which Herr Harfenspieler would supply the address. She laughed to think of her two old letters of long ago, and how they failed to reach him, of course, because he was not there where she sent them, but gone out into the wide world to look for her. Herr Harfenspieler was an early riser ; she would find him in the garden by this time ; and she went forth to look for him. The old musician was already : airing himself among the flowers, humming melodious ditties to himself in a broken voice, and when he saw her approach his heart smote him for the love he was hoping to exclude from her young life. He could have wished she had been one of the more robusttempered, strong-minded sort of women who stand in little need of love, and only borrow its sentiments occasionally to give plaintive meaning to their artistic work. “And yet, in spite of her tenderness, there is something hardy about the creature,” he reflected, studying her firm elastic movements as she hastened to meet him. “She might weather a gale as well as the strongest, and her song be all the fuller, enriched by a note from the storm. Certainly his lordship had me there; for I believe the crown of art is for those who have suffered.” “Meinherr, I want to speak with you.” “Willingly, my pupil, but after Ave have sung. We will give the freshness of the morning to our work.” And he led her out of the sunshine into the music room. Overwhelming joy seemed to have given a new power and sweetness to her Amice, and having heard her with pride and delight, the professor paused in the lesson and gazed into her young face with a strange, uneasy, half-angry expression in his eyes. y“Can we suffer her to fail us?” he asked himself. “Shall Ave bear to lose her, having brought her so far as this ? I cannot —I will not have it.” y “Now I have earned the right to speak, meinherr. I am Avriting to my friend, Kevin. Will you give me his address ? Meinherrfrowned. “My pupil, I do not knoAv it.” (To be continued.)