The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-18

the solace Of my daily life. and won't prove fata
to you Tom has the kindest heart in the world
but it is the fashion to call him stiff and haughty
because he won't let butcher. baker and candle
stick. maker slap him on the back and salute hin
as old fellow
Orpah opened her serious eyes
'.Mr. Wiltse naughty! Ihave never met more
ing of dignity with urbanity that imparts such
charm to his department. He is modern Sll
Charles Grandson
Miss Mari kindly repressed the inclination te
shout with merriment
But you see you are a favorite with him. He
seldom unbends to stranger as he does to you.
Il rushed off to write it down, word for word
lest should forget it, was her report of the
dialogue to the subject hereof, 'but it lacks the
effect Of her pretty, precise accumulation OF some
words and prettier eisions in others | have
heard of people who talked like book. but
never met one before. smell lavender and dried
rose-leaves, packed down in spices, as our great
grandmothers made them into pot-pourri all the
time am with her."
After that. the heiress called her tame cal
Sir Charles" when Orpah was not by, and OBJ
served with secret glee that while he laughed
with her at the comparison. and feigned to be
prodigiously fattered by his new petname, his
attentions to the unconscious guest were less
perfunctory than before
He it was who had constructed the shadowy
nook for her on the evening of the concert by
setting back an arm chair in the corner, foot
stool before it, and pulling forward the crimson
curtain to screen her eyes, yet not obstruct heI
view of the fairy scene. Careless of village tat
tie he set his armchair at an angle that ad
vertised his intention to play the devoted to the
woman he had thus hedged apart from the
crowd, and talked to her until the sound of tun
ing instruments hushed the loud humming as
sembly into intermittent buzzings. Orpah's
queries were always direct-sometmes blunt
gramme-"Concerto for Piano, Flute and Violin
Bach
Allegro. Affeltuose. Allegro
was concluded
''How did you surmse that I do not like tc
see instruments while am listening to musie
For that is the reason you have EMPOWERED me
so ingeniously and tastefully."
Perhaps l OWNED it ntuitively. Your fancy
is singular, you observe The music room is
packed"
II like to believe that the music makes itself
that
9" This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes
''That it is air-born-spirit-b orn-anything but
the effect Of An artificial combination of keys
and strings. My mother plays on the piano,
one of my brothers on the flute, another on the
violin. At our home concerts, close my eyes
to listen. This next piece is one they have often
practiced together" / suppose in naive uncon-
seriousness that she was diverting her auditor in
guarding the assertion-that although they in
terpret it very we'll these metropolitan perform
ers may render it even better.
Tom tugged at his mustache until his mouth
twitched in feigning to look for the right place
on the programme.
Symphony No. 6. Pastoral Opus 68. Bee
thoven," he read aloud. Inwardly his thoughts
ran in vain wish that Sela were near enough
to overhear what he felt it would be dshonora-
BILE to respeat as the capital joke it was. If 1T
could but reach the renowned octette by some
circuitous channel Unsuspectng Orpahs
happy voice rippled on "Since 1 dare not shut
my eyes here and now, shall look at that pict-
ure and let the music rise with the purple mist
from the ravine"
She leaned back as the incompatible pastoral
began, laiG her hands in her lap and rested her
eyes on the painting, an Alpine view. Above
the rear range of hills arose the broad, pure
brow of the Jungfrau-our. lady of perpetual
alteration Evergreen forests fringed her robe.
From glen and glade up curled clouds of incense,
dissipated in the crystalline atmosphere before
they could obscure her white glory. Amid
these vapors imagination easily deserted the
outlines of arms crossed on the breast, hands
joined in PRAYER. This was what Orpah Wayne
saw while surrendering herself wholly to the
music sense and emotion, all longings and pas
sions and capacities of her soul, embraced and
absorbed by the spirit and meaning of the
divine impressibleness which flooded her being
through the strait portal of the ear. She was
still floating and dreaming when she spoke, and
Tom Wiltses answer halted on his tongue. He
had little Imagination but much tact He sat
still and watched her silently while she drifted
to the nearest shore. Here a genuine en-
thusiast, country girl who talked like an
eighteenth century novel, and thought poetry
andt 'got drowned in music Psychological
phenomena-as such were not particularly inter
esting to him, but this excited his curiosity.
"a veritable unique, as Sela said" he unused.
II wonder, nevertheless, how this experiment
of our dear friends will end"
AS if adjured by thoughts Of her, Sela her
self swan up to him, bewitching in bodice and
train of white silk, thick, soft and lustreless,
embroidered with blush roses, vest and jupon
being of pale pink satin.
"a Japan lilyr' Orpah had called her earlier
in the evening. mo need to inquire how you
are enjoying the music she said with an affec-
tionate smile at her protege. II came to tell you
that we are to lave now-by request--that song
of Gounods you raved over the other night
Sing, Smile. Slumber. l sang it eXecrably in
English. Madame A is to sing it divinely
in Italian, accompanied by piano and flute You
can keep the English words in mind if you care
for the sentiment. Hush! there is the prelude.
MINDLESS April afternoon, as Madame's superb
soprano wooed the dullest auditor to silence.
"Quando il canto tue sciogle in fra la sora!'
The first lines of the English translation rec
commended for the use of the sentimental by the
laughing hostess were these:
"When thy song on the evening air soareth 80 high
Dost thou know my heart beats echo in reply
Thy sweet voice doth recall joys that have long gone
by
All then sing, ali, sing, enchantress, sing forever
more"
Neither to liquid Italian nor to hating En-
glish version did Orpahs spirit hearken The
perfect tone and accord of the instruments, the
sweetness and volume of a voice such as she had
not supposed, until now, was ever given to Great
ure of mortal mold, We're but the wings on
which she arose to join the matchless melody, as
it trilled skyward or sank into the passionate
undertone of seductive sadness that lent it pow
or to linger forever in echo in the memory
Words9 The music shook them off as a lark the
damp gossamer that has gathered on his wings
while he slept in his nest in the turf hollows, as
the soul spurns clay walls in breaking forth into
the eternities. There was an encore, of course
Darbury hoped it knew enough for that Was
not Madame As reputation nationals Orphs
sat motoness when this, too, was over, her el
bows on the chair-arms, her hands clasped and
arched over her eyes tha avartad face in deem