The Washington critic., 1888-03-03

sang
~ have no place, no part,
No dwelling more by sea or shore,
But only in thy heart
brought it all back again fresher than
ever as looked out at the cliff"
"Mary Hoffman must have pos
sessed a remarkably pure and beauti-
full character to hold Washington
Irving's heart closed against all the
fascinating and brilliant women he
must have met in his long and hon
ored life. What she was is limited
for us in that one fact" said Ethel
Ninton. 81 always feel proud of her
rs q woman"
Wentworth turned to look at her.
Her eyes shone and her lips quivered.
This is better than her singing, he
thought.
"For Miss Curran's constancy to
Emmett" spoke Marion Wynwood,
'there is no marvel. How could any
woman be other than devoted to the
memory of such hero-lover?"
"You would not demand.{of us all,
however, to be heroes, hope. before
you admit our claims to win con-
slant love-" laughed Vance Merton,
who had been hitherto silent
listener.
"Then you admit by your question
that--as Whittier's fair unbeliever'
held-thele are few of your sex now
who might wear the crest of Bayard,
or Sidney's plume of snowp" inter-
posed Harriet Grey. al should be
sorry if there were not some to do and
dare for their lady-loves yet, like those
who used to wear their lady's favor on
casque and spear"
well, no; | do not make quite so
sweeping an admission as you put in
my mouth. You remember that
Whittier confuted his fair unbeliever
by telling the story of DR.. Howe's life.
And am quite sure If we should have
another war ii would prove, as the
last one did, that heroism and
chiyalry have not died out among
u.s."
although it was not to win lady's
favor that our soldiers did their brave
deeds-nor Emmett either, faithful
as he was, said Edith's gentle voice,
''it seems to me infinitely better so.
4 man is more of man who is ready
to die, or live, for the right simply
as such, than one who goes out to
some great deed chiefly because
woman asks it. l should have more
faith in the first as lover"
Vance Morton carried an earnest
heart and a thoughtful brain under
all his gay exterior. He had waited
impartially on great many girls,
Edith and Harriet among them. No
one had ever ventured to name or
claim him as lover yet. OF late, he
had found Harriet's piquancy and
brilliant brunette beauty more at
tractive than Edith's very quiet
ways. But as the last-named
young lady finished her unwontedly
fervent speech, he turned to look at
her with eyes that seemed to say here
was an hitherto undiscovered treas
ure. Marsden Leigh's eyes caught
the look, and they being opened by
his own love experience he interpre-
ted it rightly. That is the first chap
ter of new romance, he thought to
himself, which will, l hope, come out
to happy ending.
But all this took but brief moment
after Edith ceased to speak, and in
that moment Wentworth appealed to
Ethel Vinton as to what she had to
say to the subject under discussion.
II believe" he ssaid, with Miss
Lane, in the quiet, heroic character,
prepared for any duty of life or death,
whether it be one that fame sounds
any trumpet for or not; and when one
really comes to know hero one
must reverence him, even if the
world may have failed to crown him
with its laurel.
What was it in her voice and face
that suddenly recalled to Wentworth
Marion's warning hint as to DR.. Paul
Randolph? And what was it, he
questioned himself, that she had said
of the cause of that young mans i'll
health, which had delayed q we'd
ding, as every one believed. He had
not greatly noted it at the time. But
it came back to him now-the vision
of burning tenement-house in
squalid corner of the city, where the
doctor was content TO find many of
his patients, and of his daring rush
through the flames to save an old
paralytic woman left in the fourth
story, suddenly remembered by some
one at last. A beam had fallen and
done him some serious internal
injury; he was just beginning to
move slowly about his room after
months of illness. 1t was this, then,
that filled Miss Ninton's face and
tone so full of suppressed emotion.
He turned abruptly and walked
across the room to the bay-window
looking toward the west, where, in
the farthest distance, still smouldered
q reminder of the crimson fires of
sunset. Then he came back and said
earnestly:
"My song now, if you please, Miss
Vinton. You remember / asked you
for one on first coming in !"
The lamps had been meantime
lighted. She walked to the piano and
turned over pile of music.
What shall it be ?'
Whatever you choose to give me.
/ shall be grateful for your own
choice, whatever it be-"
She hesitated moment, then she
said, half to herself ~ think this is
in keeping with all our talk of hero
ism and constancy," and began Lady
Dufferin's exquisite ballad, "The
Emigrant's lament" and she sang it
with passion and power that thrilled
all of her listeners and brought tears
into the eyes of more than one.
"Thank youW was all Wentworth
said, in low voice, when she had
finished, and asked for no more music
that night
Merton and Leigh acted as escort
for Miss Lane and Miss Grey when
the evening was over, and Wentworth
walked home alone in the dim star
light in q conflict of contending emo
tions. Was he, whose heart no woman
had ever touched falling in love at
first sight and hearing with Marion's
friendP-a woman, too, who, he had
been warned, belonged to another.
There is not uuch haroienn in that