Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-08-13

hIs Nv, lCOnGlnued).
For the first time in their inter-
course, Hugo saw clearly that at
core, she was quite other than what
she had seemed. Hitherto, she had
not chosen to reveal herself to him.
Why should she? Now in the init
macy of such scene as this, she cast
her out-of-door garments, appearing as
the complement, not the substitute, of
Man, dependent upon him, leaning
against him, erelaxed into a soft and al
Turing passicity. And in her eyes, no
longer sparkling but suffused with
shadows, Hugo heemed to read a par
ticular message for him, as if she
wished him to understand that alone
with those she loved she was always
like this: creature to be cherished
tenderly and caressed, the eternal
woman absorbing and radiating love,
nor happy nor content-as she had
just borne witness-lnless those she
loved were happy and content alos.
Presently, her father asked her to
sing. Hugo felt rather uncomfortable,
because there was no piano in the
room. Surely she would not attempt
a song without an accompaniment
Joy went out of the room and returned
in minute with guitar.
"She sings dear little songs to me-"
said George Vennable.
Joy sat down in shadowy corner
and began one of Moore's melodies,
set to old-fashioned music. Hugo, who
had been well taught, and he pre-
ceived as quickly that her voice, lack
ing power and compass, possessed in
stead most enchanting flexibility and
sweetness. There were tones and
fractions of tones, alluring gradations,
due, possibly, to some remarkable con-
formation Of the vocal chords. which
brought tears to the eyes, the tears
that never fall, but return to the
hear. Hugo paid but little attention to
the words of the song. In his ears
were the soft soughing of trees, the
Tilt of running water, and now and
again the clear trill of a bird.
Looking at the parson, he saw a
strange rejuvention: that unmistak-
able glow of youth SO seldom seen up
On the faces of those past middle age.
The music transported the parson into
some pays du tendre, where he had
wandered happily long ago.
Sing another he murmured, as the
three more songs.
When she finished, Hugo knew that
he had made the acquaintance Of a
third Joy. The echo of her voice
awoke memories long dormant. In
Mexico and Southern California he
had listened to those pathetic, be-
witching tones and semitones. And
always they had semed to reveal the
past and illuminate it with tender
light Of yesterday. The singers them
salves had been Of yesterday. In their
songs was embalmed the essence OF
pastoral lives. lives that could never
be lived again in such countries as
England.
"Thank you" said Hugo, in low
voice. you have given me a very
great pleasure
Balm for tired heart" said the
parson.
Joy laughed and the spell was
broken as she came out of the shad-
ows.
who taught your" Hugo asked.
"The most delightful old man, a
Spaniard.''
She plunged into a pathetic story
of foreigner stranded in Easthamp-
ton, unable-possibly for political rea-
sons--to return to his native land, but
always yearning for it, and expressing
that yearning in his music.
ut must be terrible" she concluded,
''to be obliged to live her voice
sank,-"and to die in dull, dirty
town when one has been born and
brought up in the most lovely part of
Aragon."
Hugo thought of Tisdale and Bur
CESS. If she married one of them,
her life would become urban and must
remain SO. And with the wider
knowledge which had come suddenly
to him within the past two hours. he
realised that she, being Of Arcadia, a
nymph of woods and streams, would
never be able to adapt herself to the
dun, formal streets and squares Of a
great city. He had been right when
he OWNED that she would make a
splendid helpmeet for pioneer
do you know" he said, with hest
tation, "that when you were singing
those songs I had the feeling that
you didn't quite belong to this cen
tury?"
The parson laughed, rubbing to-
gether his thin hands.
"She dosen't he said incisively. !
Then when Joy protested, he explained