Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1888-11-15
A TRUE STORY.

Not very great while ago 1 happen
ed to be spending the summer in tn,
White Mountains. We were staying al
boarding house in quiet little place
where very little was going on.
The scenery around Blank was very
beautiful, and being at the edge rather
than in the heart of the mountain, ont
could see many of the highest peaks al
once, and could even plainly distinguish
the Summit House in Mt. Washington
if the day was sufficiently clear.
The chief occupation and amusement
of the summer inhabitants of Blank was
driving. The roads were good; there
was fine scenery to be met with at eve
ry turn, and merely to ride in buck
board was of itself delight. In many
of these drives we took our luncheon
with us and ate it in picnic fashion at
some charming spot, prolific in lovely
scenery and-spiders. Even if we dis
pensed with this feature of the drives we
were in no danger Of starving, for hotels
were numerous, and if we wished only
for light refreshments we could have all
and more than we desired in the shape
of blackberries, maple sugar and spruce
gum offered by more or less picturesque
country lads and lassies at every turn.
The weather was often a trial but
when the sun did condescend to shine
we certainly had the most of it.
This is rather long and rambling
preamble, but with an eye for the artis-
tic side of life 1 wish to give pictur-
esque and fitting background to the story
l am about to relate.
One afternoon my friend and 1 had
gone for our usual drive, with quite a
treasure in the way of a driver. Moth
ing escaped his eagle eye, and we were
kept informed of the history of every
person and object that we chaneed to
| see.
On our way home we passed a small
white frame house, standing back in a
pleasant yard and shaded by grand old
elm trees.
There" said our driver, sis Lady
Blanche Murphy's house."
Our curiosity was Immediately arous-
ed, and, nothing loath, he told us the
following story, though hardly in these
words:
Lady Blanche, whose name then was
not Murphy, but something much more
English and aristocratic, was the only
daughter of the Earl of shire, one of
the prOudest and most exclusive of En-
glish nOblemen. Her mother died when
Lady Blanche was still child, and her
doting father indulged her in every way.
An old aunt lived at the castle and
served as chaperon for Lady Blanche,
but though very fond of her neice, she
had very little control over her. Lord b.
was devout Catholic, and attached to
his castle was beautiful little gothic
chapel in which daily services were held,
and in which there was fine organ, for
the earl's family were great lovers of mu-
sic. Lady Blanche played the organ re-
markably well herself, but her greatest
gift lay in her voice, an exquisite, rich
contralto, especially suited to the i'm
pressive services of the Catholic church.
Since Lady Blanche's childhood she
had been an immense favorite with her
fathers organist, kind old man, who
took a great interest in her voice, and
who had been the first to give her les
sons in music. She loved her teacher
devotedly, and to him alone did she re-
veal the true depths and beauty of her
character. Her father and aunt never
understood her, and her brother went
away to school when she was fifteen. 1t
was only when she sat with this old or
ganist, or when she was singing that she
showed her real self.
When Lady Blanche was just sixteen
her friend and teacher died, and she was
left without companion. Arrange
ments were Immediately made for sue
cessor, but of this she knew nothing.
For weeks she refused to go near the
chapel or to touch the organ, and it was
not until the new Organist had become
quite settled to his new position that she
so much as knew there was such per- |
son.
One afternoon towards dusk, Lady !
Blanche suddenly felt compelled to give |
voice to her grief and loneliness and to |
console herself through her long neglect
ed music. She found her way to the
chapel and seating herself at the organ
to sing one of the Haydn's masses for |
the dead The beautiful pathetic voice
thrilled through the old oak roof of the |
chapel and startled into sudden awe |
some one who was entering q side door
with pile of music books on his arm.
The picture that there impressed itself |
upon his heart was one long to be re-
membered. The rays of the setting sun
shone through the stained glass window
upon the golden head and the white
throat of the girl who sat before the or
gan, filling the place with such sweet
melody. Her dark gown and the bunch |
of violets at her breast, made more daz-
zling her fair skin, and her eyes were
deep and true as the violets themselves.
She sang on and on with her delicate,
floWer-like face upturned to the fading
sun light, and her look was as if the an
gels were telling her what to sing.
Suddenly she stopped; then instinct
must have warned her that she was not
singing to herself alone. As her voice
ceased the young man who had dropped
into one of the pew, raised himself with
start and heavy sigh and then came
forward. Lady Blanche was startled
out of her usual oomposure, and the
young man had to explain very fully who
and what he was before she understood.
He was her fathers new organist, Hen
ry Murphy, with as great a love for mu-
sic and almost as fine voice as her
own. With all this he was blessed with
an unusual amount of good looks and
manners, which the highest in the land