Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-06-25
THE UNSEEN SINGER.

| was alone in the little seaside town,
the solace of work being denied me be-
cause of the illness that had brought Inc
there to seek for health.
/ had been perhaps II fortnight in the
place when first l saw the lady of whom l
would tell you. 1t was only for mo-
ment as she drove past in the company OF
an older woman, but that moments sight
was enough to fill my thoughts until I
saw her again upon the morrow. She was
beautiful beyond all words; fancied she
could hardly have passed the age of 20,
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 fin
gers to the elder lady, her companion, in
whose eyes, as they looked on the girl,
saw an infinite pity expressed
That pity instantly invaded my own
heart, though its object was gone out of
my sight within few seconds of her ap
pearance, and, despite the fact that I
knew not SO much as her name, there was
mixed with the pity a sense of angry re-
bellion against the fates that had thus
afflicted her, wantonly robbing of it's value
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.
Now, more than ever, regretted my
loneliness, for l had no one from whom l
might expect to gather any information
as to her identity, nor was there any hope
of my gaining the privilege of her &C
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 tho next day, at about the Same
hour, the carriage passed along the length
of the promenade. She was still Innocent
ly glad to be alive, content to accept her
burden as If it were no burden at all. 1t
was with smiles she looked into the pity
ing eyes of her companion, and l could
fancy that the messages she was conveying
with swiftly moving fingers were humor-
Gus appropriations Of what she saw around
her.
My earlier questions had been addressed
to quaint, elderly waiter at the hotel, q
man who had in some sort made it his
especial task to see to my well being, and
who was the nearest approach to friend
I possessed within hundred miles of the
place 1t happened that was lunching at
the open window one day when the car
riage passed. a little earlier than usual
''That is the lady of whom was speak
ing" I said to him.
He looked out of the window with quick
interest. "a dear little maid, If may say
So Yes, and the 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. l don't even know the horses
nor tho carriage.
Thus passed period Of several days. l
began to find myself vastly better, and
with the growth of energy to look forward
pleastlrably to the time when l should re-
turn to my work in London. My good
friend the waiter had succeeded, much to
his delight, in getting me to 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 the coast and the inland
lanes for myself. I went alone, but ney-
er felt the absence Of companions, for my
expeditions always took place before OF
after the hour at which she might be ex-
pceted to pass along the promenade, and
so my thoughts We're always busy, whether
with anticipation or remembrance.
Never once did she fail me; never once
did her affection seem to mar the beauti-
full gaycty of her mood 1t appeared that
she saw and enjoyed every little thing that
could be seen, nor was it altogether
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
abe 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 at the back of it until they were
mile or two to the east, and then, descend
ing seward, drove home by the promenade
and the 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 the southern sea; at
first, the suns heat was intolerable, but
gradually one mounted higher, and then
the sunlight was but the fit accompani'
ment of the lively wind that blew from;
the sea. So went forward in the best OF
spirits until had come to the edge OF
great valley that runs from the sea.
Some dozen or SO cottages and little
pier stood at the margin OF the sea. In
land a few houses were seen among Their
fruitful orchards. But at the edge OF tile
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