The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1897-05-10
THE UNSEEN SINGER.

tkste to seek q health. -.4s
had been perhaps fortnight In the
place when first saw the lady OF whom
would tell you. It was only for a mo-
ment, az she drove past In the company OF
al older woman, but that moments slght
was enough to I'LL my thoughts until l
saw her again upon the morrow. She was
beautiful beyond all words; l fancied she
could hardly have passed the age OF ~,
and speech and hearing had been denied
her. She had the innocent gladness that
remains while they are yet young with
some who are afflicted. She looked upon
the world with beautiful, bright eyes and,
In despite of fate, was well pleased to be
alive. But she was talking with her I'm
gers to tho elder lady, her companion, In
whose eyes, as they looked on the girl, l
saw an infinite pity expressed.
That pity instantly invaded my own
heart, though it's object was gone out OF
my sight within few seconds Of her ci,-
pearance, and, despite the fact that I
knew not so much as her name, there was
mixed with the pity sense of angry re-
bellion against the fates that had thus
afflicted her, wantonly robbing Of its value
a generosity that, through her, might
otherwise have gladdened the wide world.
could not refrain from laughter at the
emotions so suddenly aroused In me. l
might have been her lover, and this in
ability to hear or to speak "a calamity quite
newly fallen upon her.
Nuvv mora than avap II reuratted nv
loneliness, for had no one from whom /
might expect to gather any information
as to her identity, nor was there any hope
of my gaining the privilege of her ac-
quaintance. made some futile inquiries
at the hotel, and only got SO far as to be
almost certain she was, like myself, . Wis
itor.
On the next doy, at about the same
hour, the carriage passed along the length
of the promenade. She was still innocent
~ glad to be alive, content TO accept her
burden a. II it were no burden at all 1t
was with smiles she looked into the pity
ing eyes Of her comranion, and could
fancy that the messages she was conveying
with swiftly moving fingers were humor-
ous APPROPRIATIONS Of what she saw around
her. a.fa5s
Ny earlier questions had been addressed
10 . quaint, elderly waiter as the hotel, a
man who had in some sort made 1t his
especial task to sec to my well being, and
who was the nearest approach to friend
I possessed within hundred miles Of the
place. It happened that / was lunching at
the open window one day when the car
riage passed, little earlier than usual.
"That Is the lady Of whom 1 was speak
ing" said to him.
He looked out Of the window with quick
interest. "A dear little maid, il may say
90. Yes, and tho poor dear Ia deaf and
dumb. She's talking 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 carriage"
Thus passed period of SEVERAL days.
began to find myself vastly better, and
with the growth of energy to look forward
pleasurably to the time when should re-
turn to my work in London. My good
friend the waiter had succeeded, much to
his delight, in getting me 10 go for nu-
merous drives through the lovely country
that surrounds the watering place. had
even, on divers occasions, set forth on foot
and explored tho coast and the inland
lanes for myself. / went alone, but i new
er felt the absence of companions, for my
expeditions always took place before or
after the hour at which she might be ex =
pceted to pass along the promenade, and
so my thoughts were always busy, whether
with anticipation or remembrance.
Never once did she fail me; never once
did her aflliction seem to mar the beauti-
full gayety of her mood. 1t appeared that
she saw and enjoyed every little thing that
could be seen, nor was 1t altogether a
young mans vanity that made me wonder
whether she had begun To notice the fact
that certain sallow invalid was always
idling on the promenade at the hour when
she drove by.
/ had come to understand the routine Of
their daily outing. They were manifestly
living somewhere to the west of the town.
Every day they went through the inland
lanes Mt the back of it until they were a
mile or two to the east, and then, descend
ing seaward, drove home by the promenade
and tho road that skirts the sea.
Now one day, with no set purpose that
/ would have confessed even to myself, !
took the western road and went into the
country. The road lies for some distance
betwixt low hills and tho southern sea: at
first, the suns heat was .intolerable, but
gradually one mounted higher, and then
the saDlight was but the fit accompe nj
ment of the lively wind that blew from
the sea. So went forward in the best OF
spirits until had como to the edge OF q
great valley that runs from tho sea.
Some dozen or SO cottages and little
pier stood at the margin of tho sea. In
land few houses were seen among theiI
fruitful orchards. But at the edge Of the
slope there was little space of wild wood,
and this, as ! looked across the flower
grown hedge, tempted me to rest.
climbed the intervening barrier and Lay
down in the shelter of a little oak tree
The sunlight flooded wealth of bracken,
foxRloves and golden harvest weed.
lounged at ease content to watch stray
butterflies that went lazily from flower tc
flower.
1t may be slept. Certainly was loDe
time under the oak before became aware
that was not the only occupant Of thu
wood. Some one was singing softly, ant
I could hear footsteps moving slowly
through tho fern. i could tell by the SOUND
that the newcomer was stopping here ant
There to pick flowers
Now, had enjoyed the solitude, but
c, en- at the FIRST the person who was com
n I'll .4-.I. A.