Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1879-12-13

thy was born musician. had sung hymns with
the sweetest little pipe in infancy, had been the
pride OF the SchoOl-InaSter In budding maiden
hood, now graced the choir at meeting. The
girls voice, pure, fresh, thrilling, like the soft
cadences OF bird, rose after the first falter OF
embarrassment, in sustained harmony, and
concluded the song triumphantly. How Cynthy
could stng To be sure the tune was not much
some new-fangled air taught by the city wo-
Hard was silent, the nearest approach to praise
ever bestowed by him. He diSapproved of the
''yellOw thing" on Cynthy'S head, yet his sense
of justice demanded that he should be silent If
she had done her best. James Hard with a
pang OF wonder, devOured the radiant figure on
the stage with longing eyes, from the objec-
tonable turban down to the little Turkish Shoe
The young man could not tell why that gulf Of
space filled him with dread. Pshaw! he was
jealous.
After that everything became whirl of fever
1sh excitement to this lover. Mrs. Townsend
Van Horne might MARBLE Spanish songs, with
her head on one side and guitar In her lap
the "other girls" pose In rigid attitudes as
and blind until slender form glided Shyly on
the stage again.
Cynthia Brown, in a gown Of her grand
drawn above dmpled elbows, and coal-scuttle
bonnet held by the strings-courtesied de-
murely, and soothed the ear of Champion with
the old ballad, ''EvelyD's Bower"
SE1llful Mrs Townsend Van Horne! Cramp-
ton was charmed and any previous doubt as 10
the twenty-five cents admission forever van
iShed.
81 call that something like" Squire Hard was
surprised into saying.
Cynthia tripped out of the greenroom, sure Of
finding her cavalier waiting.
did l act well? " inquired Vanity, STOPPING
toward him, so that her perfumed breath stirred
the curly locks on his temple.
Beyond all antic1pations. Come along the
river path, Cynthy," he whispered
Mrs Van Horne appeared, planting her scar
let boot On the gossamer web OF opportunity
Are you here, Cynthia? am afraid to
rf11J in In~Ir Tc hat
"It'S Mr.. Hard =" hesitated cynthia.
81 am going west on business for father to-
morrow murmured the young man
'.GOod-by, then," retorted Cynthia, lightly,
and repented the next moment. The river path
was smooth and allurtng.
In her little chamber Cynthia studied a pho
togIaph of the interior Of La Scala Milan. Why
had Mrs Townsend Van Horne given it to the
simple country girl? Her motive was surely not
an evil one; the child amused her, the picture
had no value. and the lady was what is often
termed in amateur circles devotedly musical.
That night Cynthia dreamed that the faint i'm
press OF La Scala in the photograph had become
pillar, and gallery above gallery to the lofty
height OF dome, while she as heroine of the
hour, moved on the stage o glorious cloud
land, gemmed with lights! She climbed from
rapture to rapture, following her own soaring
famous, rich, great; the nmitless expanded be-
fore her.
All, James Hard, walking home beneath the
stars, angry and Inundated, greater space
divides you from the girl In the humble cham
Der than the sparkling brook making music be-
meath the shadowy bridge, and your fathers
bl road acres! The careless hand OF Mrs. Town.
send Van Horne has held the conch-shell to
Cynthia's rapt, listening ear, and she hears the
first sweet murmurs OF The Lurlei's song.
Champion was wrapped In winter Snow-drifts,
but seeds terminated beneath the manteL
James Hard had not returned from that
Western journey. Already rumor spread
through the village that he was engaged TO an
VAr fl1S haip oil,
lar to the Yorkshire farmers:
'Do not marry for money,
But go where money is"
CYNTHIA heard it, grew pale, and made jour
tined to bear fruit. Mrs. Brown was the wife of
local poet, and believed in him In dolorous
fashion. Mr.. Brown had commemorated the
his heart against the prison bars In attempting
to publish them. Certainly the rambling, gush-
ing letter OF Mrs. Townsend Van Horne in a
fashionable journal made more impression on
the village than all the illusions Of it's bard.
Champion viewed the late Mr.. Brown as one
who suffered the crops to lie ungarnered while
he bit the end of pencil and frowned at the
sky. No wonder Squire Hard drove close bar
gain over the property, and litigation failed to
Wrest it from him. Mrs. Brown brooded over
the wrongs OF lonely widowhood, and Squire
Hard considered her daughter Cynthia an unde-
Sirable match for his son.
Mrs. Townsend Van Horne had departed, the
Champion House closed its best chambers, and
lady seemed to say to every one, s:Why not
make more of yOurSelf?"
The secret Journey made by Mrs. Brown and
Cynthia was to consult her on the musical Ca
pacltleS OF the latter. Cynthia had always been
the voice OF the house, trolling dittieS all day
long. Was she also Jenny Lind? Mrs. Van Horne
tons were now absorbed by a Norwegian plan
list. Cynthia must go to Europe study in no
american city would serve as we'll Mrs. Van
Eorne gave her letter of introduction which
nrOtpctiOD. N
Continent herself in the autumn; would GER
tatnly attend Cynthia's debut. Mother was
to place her Child in New York. Her heart tailed
heI; should she turn back now? She had waited
in hopeless tnactiog all these years. and If
golden opportunity came She must grasp it in
Should earn more money by singing than had
been lost to Squire Lard? One read of such
things. Mrs. Brown mortgaged her remaining
land and the roof above her head that her
daughter might become prima donna.
Champion was galvanized by the news.
Cynthy Brown was going to Europe to study
land? Never had native Of the village taken
such high flight before, and therein lay some
glory.
on day of early summer young man
stepped on board an ocean steamer Once on
deck, he discovered the object OF his search: a
girl leaning against the bulWark, wtptng away
1urt1ve tear.
'.Cynthia!" He grasped both her hands,
panied entreaty in his tone
She looked up at him with flash In her soft
eyes.
"Well, where is your heiress?"
MY heireSS! | do not understand Why
have we played at hide-and-seek like thfs?n
% l don't know" said Cynthy, TREMENDOUSLY,
half wistfully.
"You never told me your plans" cried the
young man.
''You gave me no chance. If you speak like
that shall break down. There! 1 am going
out into the world. Forget me-"
He turned to the mother flercely with glance
she failed to meet.
'.How dared you separate us forever?n
Mrs. Brown was always cowed by resolute
men.
did you care-for Cynthy?" she murmured
g Promise TO send me word If you ever need
friends" he said, In choking voice, and was
swept back to shore with the tide of humanity.
There was confused Kissing of steam voices,
bells, mighty surge of machinery set in mo
ton, and then a fair face drifting away to the
horizon.
Two years later the November evening had
closed In, raw and gloomy, on the city of Paris
which OF all modern capitals most requires the
warmth OF sunshine and the Splendor OF star
light. Rain descended steadily the boulevardS
were slippery with mud, and the mist chung to
the trees Of the squares like fog garment.
The maeStroS salons were brilliantly illumf-
mated at nine O'Clock, and the world of Lis
neighborhood was thereby given to understand
that the occasion would prove one of his even
ings The maestro was always giving seven
jngs," attended by the rich and great. to the
envy or rival instructors and the Factions who