A Song of a Single Note Part 12

"So, so, grandfather," she answered; and as she spoke, she lifted the small tea-table close to his side, and whispered on his cheek, "you will have a cup of tea with me, dear grandfather, I shall not enjoy mine unless you do." He said "pooh! pooh! child," but he was delighted, and with beaming smiles watched her small hands busy among the china, and the bread and meat.

"I am downright hungry," she said. "We had breakfast before leaving, but that seems hours and hours ago, and, O grandmother! there is no tea and bread like yours in all the world."

Then she began her long gossip concerning people and events: the water parties on the river, the picnics in the woods, the dancing and gambling and games in the house. "And I must tell you," she said, "that really and truly, I was the most admired of all the beauties there. The ladies all envied my frocks, and asked where I got them, and begged for the patterns; and I wished I had taken more with me. It is so exhilarating to have a new one for every evening. Lord Medway said every fresh one became me better than the last."

"Lord Medway!" said the Elder. "Is he that long, lazy man that trails after General Clinton like his shadow?"

"Well, they love each other. It seems funny for men to love one another; but General Clinton and Lord Ernest Medway are like David and Jonathan."

"Maria Semple!" cried Madame, "I think you might even the like o'

Clinton and the English Lord, to some one o' less respectability than Bible characters."

"O grandmother! General Clinton is just as blood-thirsty as General David ever was. He hates his enemies quite as perfectly, and wishes them all the same sorts and kinds of calamities. I don't know whether Jonathan was good-natured, but Lord Medway is. He danced with me as often as I would let him, and he danced with n.o.body else! think of that, grandmother! the women were all madly jealous of me. I did not care for that much."

"Janet, dear," said the Elder to his wife, "if you had ever seen this Lord Medway trailing up William Street or Maiden Lane, you wouldna believe the la.s.sie. He is just the maist inert piece o' humanity you could imagine. _Dancing! Tuts! Tuts! la.s.sie!"_

"He can dance, grandfather. Mrs. Gordon said the way he led me through a minuet was adorable; and Major Andr told me that in a skirmish or a cavalry charge, no one could match him. He was the hardest rider and fiercest fighter in the army."

"Weel, weel!" said Madame, "a man that isna roused by anything short o'

a battle or a cavalry charge, might be easy to live with--if you have any notion for English lords."

"Indeed, I have not any notion for Lord Medway. He is the most provoking of men. He takes no interest in games, he won't stake money on cards, he listened to the music with his eyes shut; and when Miss Robertson and Major Andr acted a little piece the Major had written, he pretended to be asleep. He was not asleep, for I caught him awake, and he smiled at me, as much as to say that I knew all about his deception, and sanctioned it. I told him so afterward, and he laughed so heartily that every one looked amazed, and what do you think he said? 'It is a fact, ladies; I really laughed, but it is Miss Semple's fault.' I don't think, grandmother, I would have been invited to Hempstead if he had not let it be known that he was not going unless Miss Semple went."

"Is he in love with you?"

"He thinks he is."

"Are you in love with him?"

Maria smiled, and with her teacup half-way to her mouth hummed a line from an old Scotch song:

"I'm glad that my heart's my ain."

Such conversation, touching many people and many topics, was naturally prolonged, and when Neil came home it was carried on with renewed interest and vigor. And Maria was not deceived when Neil with some transparent excuse of 'going to see a friend' went out at twilight.

"He is going to see Agnes," she thought; "my coming home is too good an excuse to lose, but why did he not tell me? Lovers are so sly, and yet all their cunning is useless. People always see through their little moves. In the morning I shall go to Agnes, and I hope she will not be too advising, because I am old enough to have my own ideas: besides, I have some experiences."

All the way to her friend's house in the morning, she was making resolutions which vanished as soon as they were put to the test. It was only too easy to fall into her old confidential way, to tell all she had seen and heard and felt; to be petted and admired and advised. Also, she could relate many little episodes to Agnes that she had not felt disposed to tell her grandparents, or even Neil--compliments and protestations, and sundry "spats" of envy and jealousy with the ladies of the party. But the conversation settled mainly, however often it diverged, upon Lord Medway. Agnes had often heard her father speak of him. He knew John Wesley, and had asked him to preach at Market-Medway to his tenants and servants; and on the anniversary of the Wesley Chapel in John Street he had given Mr. Bradley twenty pounds toward the Chapel fund. "He is a far finer man than he affects to be," she added, "and father says he wears that drawling, trailing habit like a cloak, to hide his real nature. Do you think he has fallen in love with you, Maria?"

"Would it be a very unlikely thing to happen, Agnes? He danced only with me, and when Major Andr arranged the Musical Masque, he consented to sing only on the condition that I sang with him."

"And what else, Maria?"

"One evening Quentin Macpherson danced the Scotch sword dance--a very clever barbaric thing--but I did not like it; the man looks better at the head of his company. However, he sang a little song called 'The Soldier's Kiss' that was pretty enough. The melody went in this way"--and Maria hummed a strain that sounded like the gallop of horses and shaking of bridles--"I only remember the chorus," she said.

"A kiss, Sweet, a kiss, Sweet, For the drums are beat along the street, And we part, and know not when we meet, With another kiss like this, Sweet.

"And Lord Medway whispered to me that Shakespeare had said it all far better in one line, _'Touch her soft mouth and march.'_ In Major Andre's masque we had a charming little verse; I brought you a copy of it, see, here it is. The first two lines have a sweet crescendo melody; at the third line there was a fanfare of trumpets in the distance and the gentlemen rattled their swords. The fourth line we sang alone, and at the close Lord Medway bowed to me, and the whole room took up the refrain." Then the girls leaned over the paper, and Agnes read the words aloud slowly, evidently committing them to her memory as she read:

"A song of a single note!

But it soars and swells above The trumpet's call, and the clash of arms, For the name of the song is Love."

"Now sing me the melody, Maria," said Agnes; and Maria sang, and Agnes listened, and then they sang it together until it was perfect. "Just once more," said Maria, and as they reached the close of the verse, a strong, musical voice joined in the refrain, and then Harry came into the room singing it.

"Harry! Harry!" cried Agnes, joyfully.

_"And the name of the song is Love!"_ he answered, taking Agnes in his arms and kissing the word on her lips. Then he turned with a glowing face to Maria, and she bent her head a little proudly, and remained silent. But soon Agnes went away to order coffee for her visitor, and then Harry sat down by Maria, and asked to see the song, and their hands met above the pa.s.sionate words, and the dumb letters became vocal. They sang them over and over, their clear, fresh voices growing softer and softer, till, almost in a whisper of delight, they uttered the last word _"Love!"_ Then he looked at her as only a lover can look, and she looked at him like one who suddenly awakens. Her past was a sleep, a dream; that moment her life began. And she had all the tremors that mark the beginnings of life; a great quiet fell upon her, and she wanted to go into solitude and examine this wonderful experience. For Harry had stirred one of those unknown soul depths that only Love ventures down to.

When Agnes returned she said she must go home, her grandmother was not well; and then she blundered into such a number of foolish excuses as made Agnes look curiously, perhaps anxiously, at her. And for several days she continued these excuses; she sent Neil with messages and letters, but she did not go to her friend. There was something wrong between them, and Maria finally threw the blame upon Agnes.

"Any one may see that she is deceiving either Harry or uncle Neil--and I hate a deceiver. It is not fair--I am sure if Harry knew about uncle--if he was not engaged to Agnes--Oh, no! I must not think of him. Poor uncle Neil! If Agnes treats him badly, I shall never forgive her, never!"

Thus, and so on, ran her reflections day after day, and yet she had not the courage to go and talk the matter out with Agnes. But she noticed an unusual exaltation in her uncle's manner; he dressed with more than his usual sombre richness; he seemed to tread upon air, and though more silent than ever, a smile of great sweetness was constantly on his lips.

And one afternoon as Maria sat at her tambour frame, Madame entered the parlor hastily, looking almost frightened.

"Do you hear him? Your uncle, I mean. Do you hear him, Maria?" she cried. "He is singing. He must be _fey_. I haven't heard him sing since he was a lad going to Paul Gerome's singing cla.s.s. It's uncanny! It frightens me! And what is he singing, Maria?"

And Maria lifting a calm face answered--_"The name of the song is Love."_

CHAPTER V.

LOVE'S SWEET DREAM.

It is not truth, but falsehood which requires explanation, and Maria was sensible of this fact as she sat at her tambour frame thinking of Agnes and of Harry and of her uncle Neil. There was something not straightforward in the life of Agnes, and she resolved every day to make inquiry into it, and every day she made, instead, some deferring excuse.

But one morning, while eating breakfast, they were all sensitive to unusual movements in the city, and the air was tense with human emotion.

The Elder and Neil became restless and antic.i.p.ative, and Maria could not escape the feverish mental contagion. When the men had left the house she hurried through her few duties, and then went to her friend. Agnes was standing at the garden gate, watching and listening. "There is news of some kind, Maria," she said; "I am anxious to know what it is."

"Grandmother says we need not run after news, it will find us out, and I dare say it is only more Connecticut ravaging."

Then Agnes turned into the house with Maria, for she perceived something unusual in her voice and manner--dissatisfaction, and perhaps a tone of injury. There was no pretence of study about her, she had not even brought her books, and Agnes became silent, and lifted her sewing. At length Maria spoke:

"What is the matter with you, Agnes?" she asked, and then added: "you are not like yourself this morning."

"Whatever the matter is, Maria, I caught it from you."

"You are cross."

"I was only curious and anxious when you came. You brought dissatisfaction and annoyance with you. I think you had better tell me at once what has displeased you."

"Oh, you must know what displeases me, Agnes. Do you think I can bear to see you playing with two lovers at once? I am very fond of my uncle Neil, and he adores you. And when Harry is away, uncle Neil is everything; but as soon as Harry comes, then Harry is everything. It is not fair to uncle, and I do not approve of such ways. If I were to act in that kind of fas.h.i.+on between Lord Medway and Quentin Macpherson, who would be so shocked as Agnes Bradley? I am so disappointed in you, Agnes. I have not been able to come and see you for days; this morning I felt that I must speak to you about things."

"Maria, I once asked you to defer judgment on whatever you saw or heard or suspected, and to take my word for it being all right. It seems that I asked too much."

"But how can it be all right, if you allow two men to make love to you?--and you seem to like it from both of them."

"I do like it--from both of them. The two loves are different."