The San Francisco call., 1906-06-03
CHAPTER XIV
A Tronbadour.

Katharine Chisholm sat before her
piano. idly playing whatever came into
her head and ran down to her finger-t tips
she hardly knew what. until she fell
upon. the melody the young Methodist had
played that hot day in July when he
sang TO her and told her about himself.
She knew tile plaintive, appealing strains
whether they came unbidden. as now. or
invoked-she might as we'll confess it--by
a desire to place herself again under the
influence she had felt then. It was not
like any other influence she had
ever felt; therein lay its. charm. and.
to a degree, its excuse. She knew
when men were in love with her: it was
not like that. She knew when they We're
straining every nerve to win her ap-
proval. her interest and corporations. it
was none of these. What was it? If she
could find the words to this strange. un-
worded song she felt she could unlock the
mystery. What did the notes say? The
first strain: how did it go?
Along the silent ways there came
A troubadour troubadour."
she sang under. her breath. That was 1t,
the Voice. where there had been-silence,
emptiness. She had not known, but one
never does know till-afterward.
What dull days. what meaningless ex-
istence hers had been, Breakfast lunch /
con and dinner, drive or a ride be :
tween, books to .yawns over or get angry
with, callers, an afternoon tea: Then, the
men. in the. evening: Winsow. fmmacu-
late. fastidious. full of little filings at this
and that; Haverford, poor, tragic Hav-
erford-no one knew how tragic except
herself; dear, good Ned Wilkins, faithful
as the sun; and Arthur, bored but po-
| lite.
What did Arthur really think of the ife
here? He would never tell. He would
just go on, with silent tenacity, until he
had rolled up his millions: then he
would carry Mabel and Marguerite off to
Europe and never come back. He had his
passion for his beautiful wife and his
love for the child.
And Katharine had Elsie, the fay, the
elf incomprehensible, elusive 81 adore
her. of course Katharine assured her
self. But she never was really mime
any more than her father was
And Emmeline. with her clothes and her
cosmetics. that was the dreariest of all.
Along the silent ways there came
A troubadour, a .troubadour,"
AS out of darkness shines a flame
And in his hand no harp he bore
No harp. no lutte; she had furnished the
instrument Nothing but himself quantity
garbed. Many of Winslow's gibes had
been about that long black coat On any
one else it would be grotesque. But, ii
suited him..
| Only three times had she seen him. Yet
she could recall perfectly the tall. slender
figure, the quick movements. the haunting
hands. Ned wilkins told her he had been
doing WE'LL The small brick church had
been filled every Sunday during the sum-
mer and the midweek prayer-meetings
had not been neglected by the motley con-
gregation he gathered about him. Some
day she would go TO hear him preach; she
would get Ned TO take her Ned liked
him. praised his sincerity, his enthusiasm
believed in his ability to do a great work
But that was the other side of him, the
priestly side. 1t was as the troubadour
that he appealed to her. Was not that a
mission, too?
Along the silent ways there came
A troubadour, troubadour
AS out of darkness shines a flame
And in his hand no harp he bore"