Middletown transcript., 1901-08-03

|
Not that she had not been asked again
and again to change her name.
Weait'' and titles had been laid at hel
feet o"ei and over again, and the beauti.
| full singer with her wonderful voice was
courted and admired wherever she went.
But to each of her suitors she had given
the same reply, the same courteous but
decided refusal.
The years slipped on, till close upon
twenty had passed by, since, as girl OF
seventeen, she had watched Jack Hill
yard ride away from the up-country
station, her eyes blind with tears, her
heart aching with intolerable anguish.
She was woman of the world now
a woman who had known life, and suffer-
ing, and sorrow-and had come through
these with the pure simple soul of her
girlhood still untarnished.
1t was a bitter winter night.
Miss Deborah Dering had been an
nounced to sing at a big concert in Queens
Hall, and such an announcement meant
that the hall would be packed from floor
to ceiling with an enthusiastic audience.
Miss Dering's neat brougham stood at
the door of her charming house in
Street, as the great singer stepped into it,
she called back to a figure in the hail.
"Go in, mother, it's bitterly cold, go
back into the warm"
And even as she leaned back among
+ her furs she shiyered little.
1t was indeed bitter night.
A keen west wind swept up the streets,
and the clear stars overhead seemed to
slNer and shine more brilliantly as the
cutting blast swept by.
| The streets were nearl y deserted, but
all at once faint sound struck upon De-
borah's ear.
She leaned forward and peered out; un-
der lamp at street corner pitiful little
group met her eye.
An old, old man, little child and a
shivering fox terrier stood huddled to-
gether, and1he old man and little child
were singing feebly, with no one to listen
to them but two passing boysswho had
stopped 10 Jeer.
A pitiful look swept over Deborah's s
beautiful face. That shivering little
group sent thrill to her heart.
Her astonished coachman was sud
denly ordered to stop, and, to his still
greater amazement, he saw his mistress
step from her carriage into the bitter
night.
Her great cloak was wrapped closely
round her, her head was well covered;
her voice belonged to the public, she
must guard it carefully.
With quick step she joined the group
upon the pavement
'Why are you singing out here in this
bitter cold?' she said gently, as at her
approach the quavering voices ceased.
'We have made nothing all day,
ma'am," the old man answered. II
thought maybe l should get supper for
the little one," and his thin old hand
touched the child's head lovingly.
''See," Deborah said, II will sing for
supper for you'll haye no money with
me, | can only sing"
And before the old man could answer
her, her beautiful voice pealed out upon
the clear air:
whats this dull town to me,
Robins not here?"
What made her sing it? All! who can |
say? But as she sang the long gray street, |
the icy blast, the shivering forms before |
her vanished from her consciousness, and |
in their place she saw the glowing sum |
shine, the deep blue of an Australian sky. |
As her wonderful voice rose and fell |
upon the evening air a little crowd came
gathering round the group upon the pave |
ment in the marvellously rapid fashion in |
which London crowd can collect itself. |
And when at the end of the song the |
tall woman turned to the old man beside |
her, saying:
"Now hand your hat round to these
people," there was an eager forward |
movement amongst the listeners, and
coins were poured lavishly into the worn
hat, held out by the trembling old hands.
Suddenly, just as the old man was
turning back towards Deborah, a tall |
man standing at the back of the crowd,
pushed his way through the little mass
of people and dropped something amongst
the coins in the hat.
"Take that to the lady who is singing.
The words were spoken in low, pleasant
voice that shook just little. ''See that
she takes it herself"
Perhaps the man was too poor and
hungry to be surprised at anything.
Certainly he showed no signs of aston
but pushed his way at once
through the crowd to the singer, who
was already wrapping her cloak about
her preparatory to returning to her car
riage.
''The gentleman asked me to give YOU
this" the old man said, and drew from
the hat he held ring which he laid in
the singers hands.
1t was remarkable ring-the light
that fickered down from the street lamp
close by showed that-a curiously chased
ring of an unforgotten pattern.
Anyone seeing her face would have
noticed how a swift flash of color swept
over it as her fingers tightened over the
ring.
my ring" she whispered; "Ifiy ring
that | gave Jack all those years ago!
How strange-how very strange! Does
it mean that he is free?"
She turned quickly back towards the
little crowd now slowly and reluctantly
and her eyes scanned each
figure eagerly.
Suddenly man came out from the !
yroup and moved towards her.
rs it you, Jack?'' she whispered
when lie was close to her. 'Did you
put this ring amongst the money-for t
ne?'
In a moment he had taken her hands I
N his and was holding them closely.
Deborah" he said huskily ''De-
,orah, my dear, | thought no other /
woman had that voice. felt it was you
,ut wanted to be sure"
He drew her, hand through his arm and a
hey walked in silence to her brougham
nto which he followed her. !
stDoes it mean" she said softly as they q
rove away, "does it mean that" v
sit means that have been to Austria
ia to look for you, my sweetheart-it =
means that am free.
For moment he held her closely i'll
is arms, then released her, and went on e
emily: g
'My wife died year ago-and nearly v
hree months ago went to your old q
ONE to find you-because / saw that u
ou we're singing in Australia. l have
ever dared to come and hear@you sing