The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1896-11-20
but that was a chance that had not sug
pested itself to Christina It'll


moved herself and her belongings to n
small cottage In Devonshire, lying mile
or two out of Plymouth, and prepared, In
company with nm old lady from whom she
reA ted the rooms, to face the task of living
out the rest OF Eer life.
For awhile the beautiful aspect of tho
country, then reddeninR under the first
flush of autumn, soothed and consoled her.
but presently chance meeting with an
old fellow student of music revived again
in all its intensity the trouble of the i'm
prisoned sense, and once more Christina
lapsed into dull despair
The sympathetic, kindly vicar of the
place, himself an accomplished amateur
musician and us such keenly appreciative
of the calamity that had befallen Chris
tina, sought her out. By this time she
had acquired the pitiful skill Of reading
words by tho motions of the lips.
"You must bc brave she could perceive
he was saying to her, land resigned"
"Would you beP" she asked.
81 should try" he answered, sticking to
his guns, 'and with help perhaps succeed. y
Christina smiled and shook her head.
"You are not the only one, you know, v
continued the vicar, disconnected and
blundering in his effort at consolation.
"There have been others-Beethoven
Beethoven broke in the girl holly.
II have Eoen reading about him lately,
and here is what he said himself. What
humiliation when any one standing be-
side me could hear at n distance a flute
that l could not hear or any one heard a
shepherd singing and l could not distin-
nj OF, mr.
brought me to the brink of despair and
had well nigh made me put an end to my
liie--nothing but my art held my hand. ,
That Is how Beethoven felt about 1t, and
he had his art, you see-the consolation of
composition. But what have II A littlo
mechanical skill and passionate love for
music-now become curse to me. tell
you candidly, vicar, that it is sheer cow
ardce that prevents me from taking my
life.'
The vicar tried to look shocked, but only
partially succeeded.
It's very sad," he said simply, "but
patience is the only weapon We poor NOR
tails have against fate-that and time"
"And deadly, dreary weapons they are
But by all means let us console ourselves
with our own imperfections-th impossi-
blity Of retaining sharp edge to our i'm
prGssions. In time perhaps | may become
dull enough to forget that there is such
thing rs music-or heaven. Possibly with
care may make even further progress to.
ward vegetation.
She spoke with great bitterness, and the
good clergyman, not being able to make
anything of her mood, beat Il retreat.
He was not n man, however, to sit
down easily under rebuff. Christina
Phillipson interested him personally, and
tho problem of her life interested him still
more. He determined, if possible, to find
some toerable solution of that problem.
1t was under the pressure of his urgent
advice that tho girl resumed her piano.
forte practice. The movements of her fin.
gers over the keyboard helped, she found,
to reproduce the score In her mind, and
she took to playing for hours at a stretch
until the old Devonshire dame who kept
the house was almost fain to wish she were
deaf too
But, in spite of this solace and in spite
of the helpful vicar and his admirable
wife and ali the soothing influences Of
rural life, Christina became more and
more restless and unhappy, and when the
landscape grew white under hard winter
and the blue summer seas changed to an
iron gray she fell into so Respondent a
state that her friends at tho parsonage be-
came seriously concerned for her.
And then an event happened which once
more changed the course of her life.
Returning one afternoon from brisk
walk which had lent touch of color to her
pale cheeks, she was met at tho doorway
by her old duenna.
"There's visitor to see you, miss she
remarked, with n half smile.
Wondering little as to the identity of
this afternoon caller, Christina passed into
her little room.
A man sat with his arm resting on the
table and bis head bent. His back was
turned toward her, but she realized in an
instant that hero was her lover returned.
"Dayidr' she exclaimed involuntarily.
David Fraser started to his feet.
II have found you" he cried and held
out his hands.
But the girl did not Immediately re-
epOnd, and for a moment they two re-
gardcd each other with mutual pity.
Fraser was wasted by sickness, and tie
seal of great sorrow had left its mark
upon Christina.
She had borne her trouble dry eyed un-
til them but the sympathy expressed in |
her lovers face was too much for her. and |
she broke into flood of tears.
David Fraser was not the man to neglect
his opportunity. He took her hand in his.
"Christina," he said, I'VE want each
other, you and l. Your deafness matters
nothing Ny life has been shaken to its
foundations. 1neod your help to strength
ell it,
He struck the right note, not the note Of
pity, but that Of appeal. Christina
watched the words form on his lips and
hope arose in her heart,
care you sure you want me?" she asked,
and added hastily, but for both our sakes,
for heavens sake, do not say yes out Of
compassion"
And Fraser made answer in the i'm.
memorial fashion.
Eighteen months had passed and Chris
tina sat with her lrstborn child in hor
arms. Languidly she watched the June
roses nodding at the open window, and
then her eyes fell upon the sleeping child.
In moment the old trouble swept over
her like a flood.
"My God!" she cried in despair. Never
to hear his yoice-never, nevert'
And then family, feebly, far away, 1t
seemed in some dim court of her brain
there arose fine thread of sound.
Christina listened with parted lips and
eyes dilated-listened with her whole soul.
She rosc to her feet, her face turned to-
ward the child, which moved restlessly in
Its sleep Tho trembling hope in her breast
grew tlrmer
Her husband entered the room.
David, David" she whispered, hold
ing the child toward him, 81 hear the cry
Of our childp'
And so Christina passed once more into
the world of sound-C. H. Palmer in
Strand Musical Magazine.