The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-09-21

HOW much, IL YOU ptSaScs mAS HN
asks, half-apologetically.
Muriel hesitates.
Gan you lend me--ten pounds?' she falt-
eringly murmurs.
The man eyes the instrument critically
and then takes it away and is gone four or
five minutes.
"You can have more than that IL you like,
miss he says on returning. Shall 1 make
It twenty, or thirty"
The bankers daughter Is literally shocked
at the thought of borrowing so large a sum-,
since 1T would mean all the more TO pay
back when she shall be in a position TO re-
deem it.
Thank you, very much. but ten pounds
will do nicely" she responds in a low,
sweet, musical voice that completely cap
tivates her already enamored listener.
Ten pounds: Why. it is worth perhaps
as many hundred, What can the girl be
thinking of to let it go out of her sight
for such a paltry figure? But there, 1t Is
no business OF his. so he makes out the
duplicate and hands her the bright, glisten-
ing gold which now seems a little fortune
to her to whom it had once represented so
insignificant an amount.
On quitting this last haven Of poverty"
she goes to the postoffice, purchases some
stamps and sends of the letter which she
hopes and prays may bring her luck.
Three days later she receives Mrs. Fall
coner's reply requesting her to call at
Grosvenor Mansions at a specified time.
Muriel. of course. keeps the appointment:
and from the moment she enters the giddy
widows presence she makes a most favor
able impression upon the lady whom she
trusts will engage her. When the prelimin-
aries have all been gone through the skit-
fish tenant of the palatial fiat asks sudden
ly for a reference, but as none is forthcom-
ing. and Muriel is well-nigh driven to des-
peration, she acts upon the impulse Of the
moment, and without divulging her real
status and identity, relates sufficient of heI
history to satisfy her listener she is a per.
son of sound integrity and respectability.
A fortnight later Walter Hazlitt's out.
cast daughter is duly installed in the frs,
and last situation she is ever destined to
hold; and were it not for a great yearnins
to behold once again her loyal, teadfas
lover-to feel herself sheltered in his arm:
as of yore. to hear him pleading with hel
as he had so often pleaded before, to tel
him that her heart has long been wholly
SOlcly AS-cAlSttuCt LII MIS-. TdlCOutE
small and luxurious household would b.
anything but unhappy. Her situation ii
one OF the easiest that could possibly b,
found. Her mistress likes her immensely
and in her rough, vulgar way is kindness
itself to the little friendless waif in whom
she takes a great interest. And the peopl
who come to visit the wealthy Widowed
parvenue, one and all treat the girl witt
the utmost respect, for her every look an
word and gesture bear the unmistakabl
mark and impress Of a lady bred an
born.
There is one thing over which Murie
grieves sadly and often. IT'S that her be
loved music no longer, save in thought an
spirit. holds its former place and part i
her daily rounds I'M duties. 1t seems a.
to be slipping away from her, like a drear
that has been dreamt and told. Ofte
when she hears her mistress's visitors as
Stunning to play on the th~ree-hundred
guinea Broadwood grand in the elegant
appointed drawing room she feels that sh
must rush in and drag the poor unskille
executant Gas nearly every one of ther
! is) away from the instrument and sea
herself at 1t and run her fingers over tn
keys in snatches Of her ~favorite compos
ers' productions. How she would surpris
them all were she to do so! How sh
hungers for a good long practice on til
piano which so reminds her of the cost
! gem that had belonged to her own darlin
: mother, and on which, pe~rchance, he
: fathers second wife now strums for til
2 qualification Of her husbands guests. Oh
what would she give to have the right,
, only for a little while, to play on tn
ebony and gold instrument whose tone
t are bel-like in their clearness and swee
ness. 'Twould be like food to the ~starvin,
D sight to the blind, to make it speak b,
meath her touch! But alasl she is only
. servant in her mistress's household, ar
presume thus she dare not. Such a Ill
erty might lose her situation, and it
far too comfortable a one to be held light
by so friendless and inexperienced a I'll
: as she knows herself to be.
e One evening when Mrs. Falconer has gor
to a party n is not expected back UNI
: the early hours of morning Muriel chanc,
a to wander into the ~drawing-room whe,
v stands the silver-toned instrument whic
somehow always strangely reminds her
the one she has left behind her in her ov
e dear home, whose doors her flight ha,
probably forever closed against her. 81
q looks round the room with a sigh al
pauses at the open easement opening upc
q the balcony. The lamps have not been Il
e and but for the moonlight that streams
9 through the glass windows the chamb
4 would be in utter gloom. AS she stan,
there with the pale, powerful rays circliI
A Ger the spot where she leans looking O
at the still. dark trees in the railed-in-i
closure opposite. an irresistible yearnil
r comes to her with bewildering force. VIII,
at boarding school and the Lindens, MUIR
e used to delight in playing in the darkne
e and improvising on the violin or plan
n The weirdness and romance Of the starlig
and moon rays seemed to inspire h
d strangely with the beautiful tender fanci
to- which she loved to give lutheran
r through her fingers. The same old year
n Ing tonight again possesses her, and 70
getting her surroundings and the b
e ter circumstances that would make such
l. proceeding at other times seem to her
n most objectionable liberty she steps oy
TO the grand. whose raised lid has be,
v carelessly left open, whose keyboard Il
mistress OF the house had not troubled
cover when last she had risen fro
lie before 1t but a few hours ago. Seating he
g self on the tapestried and carved mus
h stool she let's her skillful fingers glide so,
e ly at will over the glistening worries.
frst she does not intend to play at all lou
In 1r h,t 0nl, -Sl--