The times., 1897-01-22


moved herself and her belongings to a
small cottage in Devonshire, lying mile
or two out of Plymouth, and prepared In
company with an old lady from whom she
repred the rooms, to face the task of living
out the rest of her life.
For awhile the beautiful aspect of the
country, then reddening under the first
flush of autumn, soothed and oonsoled her.
but presently n 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 moro Christina
lapsed into dull despair
! The sympathetic, kindly vicar of the
place, himself an accomplished amateur
musician and as 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 the motions of the lips.
"You must bo brave" she could perceive
he was saying to her, ''and resigned"
| "Would you be?" she asked
II should try" he answered, sticking to
his guns, "and with help perhaps succeed.
Christina smiled and shook her head.
"You are not the only one, you know"
continued the vicar, disconnected and
laundering in his effort at consolation.
"There have been others-Beethoven.
Beethoven broke In the girl hotly.
IT have been reading about him lately,
and here is what he said himself. What
humiliation when any one standing be-
side me could hear at a distance flute
that could not hear or any one heard a
shepherd singing and could not distin-
guish sound Such circumstances
brought NE to the brink of despair, and
nvef TIT n mn -vtrv
life-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 i? A little
mechanical skill and passionate love for
music-now become curse to me- tell
you candidly, vicar, that 1t Is sheer cow
ardice that prevents me from taking my
'jfe.'
The vicar tried to look shocked, but only
partially succeeded.
"Its very sad," he said simply, "but
patience Is the only weapon we poor NOR
tails have against fate-that anu Jime"
"And deadly, dreary weapons they are.
But by all means let us console ourselves
with our own mperfections-the impossi-
bility of retaining a sharp edge to our i'm
pressions. In time perhaps L may become
dull enough to forget that there Is such O
thing as 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 retreat.
He was not man, however, to sit
down easily under rebuff. Christina
Phillipson interested him personally, and
the problem of her life interested him still
more. He determined, if possible, to find
some tolerable solution of that problem.
1t was under the pressure Of his urgent
advice that the 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 q 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 all the soothing influences of
rural life, Christina became more and
more restless and unhappy, and when the
landscape grew white under a hard winter
and the blue summer seas changed to an
iron gray she fell into so despondent a
state that her friends at the 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 a brisk
walk which had lent touch of color to her
pale cheeks she was met at the doorway
by her old duenna.
"Theres a visitor to see you, miss, - she
remarked, with 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 his head bent. His back was
turned toward her, but she realized in an
instant that here was her lover returned.
"Davidp' 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-
spond, and for moment they two re-
garded each other with mutual pity.
Fraser was wasted by sickness, and the
seal Of a great sorrow had left its mark
upon Christina.
She had borne her trouble dry eyed un-
til then, 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, 1--WE want each
other, you and ]. Your deafness matters
nothing. My life has been shaken to its
foundations. need your help to strength
en- 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.
"Are you sure you want mep" 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 Inn. |
memorial fashion.
Eighteen months had passed and Chris |
tina sat with her firstborn child in her |
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 flood
"My God - she cried in despair "Never
to hear his yoice-never, neverl''
And then family, feebly, far away. 10 |
seemed in some dim court of her brain !
there arose fine thread of sound.
Christina listened with parted lips and |