Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1897-04-30
THE VERMONT PHGNIX FRIDAY,
THE UNSEEN SINGER.

! was alone in the little seaside town tn,
solace of work being denied me because o.
the illness that had brought me there t,
seek for health. For a year past | hac
longed for a period of license such as wa
now mine TO enjoy. but the granting of my
desire had come in such a fashion that il
gave me not the smallest pleasure ] wa
desperately tired, and my nerves were in
state that rendered all enjoyment impossi
BILE. used to lie late in the morning foi
there was nothing TO do but wander idly Oh
the promenade. and the trivial pleasures oil
the crowd vexed me unutterably because
could not share them.
1 had been perhaps a fortnight in the
place when first ! saw the LADY of whom
! would tell you 1t was only for a moment
as she drove past in the company of an older
woman. but that moments sight was enough
| TO fill my thoughts until / saw her again
upon the morrow. She was beautiful be.
yond all words. / faucied she could hardly
have passed the age of twenty: and speech
| and hearing had been denied her She had
| the innocent gladuess that remains while
they are yet Young with some who are thus
afflicted She looked upon the world with
| beautiful bright eyes, and, IN spite of fate
was well pleased to toe alive But she was
| talking with her fingers TO the elderly lady.
her companion. in whose ewes as they look
ed on the girl ] saw an infinite pity ex-
pressed
That pity instantly invaded nv heart
though its object was gone out of my sight
within a few seconds Of her appearance:
and, despite the TACT that knew not so
much as her name, there was mixed with
the pity SENSE of angry rebellion against
the tates who had thus afflicted her, wan
| tonly robblnC of its value generosi that.
through her, might otherwise have glad
dened tine wide world. could not refrain
from laughter at the emotions so suddenly
aroused III me ] might have been her
lover, and this inability TO hear or to speak
a calamity quite newly fallen upon her
On the next day, at about the same hour,
the carriage passed along the length of the
promenade She was still innocentiy glad
to be alive and content TO accept her bur
den. 1t was with a gentle smile that she
looked into the pltylng eyes of her compan-
ION. and l could fancy that the messages
she was conveying with swiftly moving
fingers were humorous appropriations of
what she saw around her
My earlier questions had been addressed TO
quaint, elderly waiter at the hotel-a man
who had IN some sort made 1t his especial
task TO see TO my well-Deing. and who was
the nearest approach TO a friend ! possess
ed within hundred miles of the place. 1t
happened that was lunching at the open
window one day when the carriage passed.
little earlier than usual
That is the lady of whom ! was speak
ing, ] said TO him
He looked out of the window with quick
interest a dear little maid if may say
So. y es and the girl is deaf and dumb.
shes talkiu upon her fingers Well, !
thought from what You told me they must
be strangers IN these parts, and so they are
don't even know the horses nor the cur
ral-e
linus passed "a period Of several days
be gan TO ind myself vastly better, and
with the growth Of energy. TO look forward
pIeasurabiy To the time when | should re
turn to my work IN London. / had. on di-
vers occasions. set forth on foot and ex-
plored the coast and the inland lanes for
myself ! went alone. but never felt the
absence Of companions, for my expeditions
always took place before or after the hour
at which she might be expected 10 pass
along the promenade, and so my thoughts
We're always busy. whether with anticipa-
ton or remembrance
Never once did she fail me: never once |
did her Affections seem to mar the beautiful /
galety of her mood Ii appeared that she .
saw and enjoyed every little thing that
could be seen: nor was 1t altogether young
man vanity that made me wonder whether
she mad noticed the fact that Il certain sal
low invalid was always idling on the prom
enade at the hour when she drove by.
l mad come 10 understand the routine of
their daily out ng. They were nanifestly
living somewhere TO the Vest of tue town
Every day they went through the inland
lanes at the back Of 1t until they were a
mile or two TO the east, and then decend-
ng Stewards drove home by the prone
made and the road that skirts the sea
some dozen or SO cottages and little
per stood at the margin Of the sea. Inland
lew houses were seen among the fruitful
But at the edge of the slope
here was little space of wild wood. and
ms, as l looked across the homegrown
hedge. tempted me TO rest ! climbed the
barrier and lay down in the
helter of little oak tree The sunlight
iooded a wealth of Drackeu. foxgloves and
Golden harvest-weed. I lay at ease, con
ent 10 watch stray butterflies that went
azily from flower to flower
IL may be J slept Certainly ] was a
onE time under the oak before ! became
ware that ! was not the only occupant of
he wood. Someone was singing softly
Trough the fern I could tell by the sound
hat the newcomer was stopping here and
here 10 pick flowers.
Now, ! had enjoyed the solitude. but
ven at the first the person who was coming
oward me did not strike me as an intruder
Ter singing was III absolute concord with
ny mood II was as If one had thought of a
Dem aud a moment later found oneself
ummlng the melody that would make of
perfect song, ] lay and waited, and
be singer came nearer
The song ceased when she presently ap-
cared. She was a little startled, but not
early so much as l.
Then you are not dumb l cried invol-
ntarily, as l started to my feet
She hesitated, and a little smile PLAYED
bout the corners of her pretty mouth
1t Is my aunt who is dumb, she said
hen, with sudden recovery of her digni- {
:, II don't know why you should ask. "
But that was a matter of no great diff
lity IN explaining ere / came back TO Lon {