THE FIDDLER.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 27, 26 October 1907, Page 14

THE FIDDLER.

. V „ ..r.. , '|Do you know you nro trespassing?". Miss, .Vivian demanded " , , The intrudei rose straw hat "I' beg your pardon Yes, I did know it, but the shade looked so umting its awfully hot 'and dusty out there." t ßo.:;inM.eateu ; .. tho'-high road by a backward movement of his head. His clothing w is stained all manner of picturesque colours, but his wee was low and eUu cated. .•' : - Majorie Vivian regarded him witn tranK-in-terest for a' tho fiddle-case lying among the fern. - to tot* yoiir profession?" she asked, pointing to it disdainfully.,. . . - ,-,y '■"More or less." . . . "I should Inever have. thought—you seem . So' her' rinncyahce' and. :b?wUdemfeiit, ,?aiss - 1- • .viari broke'.off Astamiiieringi -His iSteady., .gaze was so disconcerting, , and now. ho was smiling openly at her .. .■ • "Tlease go on," he said. .'''What do I seem. ' ;'"Too well- educatedi?for:,iSUCh,.a l lite,. sho -•don't. I-look the part,, then? It I was irritating jhoiV he compelled her eyes to lAt least, I clon't know; but'l should , havo thought you were a gentleman. ... "Thank you," ho observed. .gravely,, put,.the - steady oyes momentarily. twinKlea. , . 'i Miss Vivian lifted her chin by two I "I'his is my father s wood, she remarked pointedly, if A, slanting, rayQf,, ? . u of the curl ,eye,into ;a - ring ■of gold .and,mocked- theangry. glCam in.her■ blii?. • «yes. : The fiddler's expression .was indicative •#t unqualified approvals/ • -. —, ■' ■~ I 1 "It's: a particularly nice-wood. He s.a tor iunate mani" was:his :polite.xomment. "I think we 'must- ;have. .tho- fences raised, 'Miss Vivian said musingly. -,/ ■; /. , "Not on -my account,'.; urged, the , fiddto.. !"You see, I shall be leaving Mazebrook to-, morrow, and it's unlikely.l shall defy the.law ag Mks Vivian contemplated . him : for a few anywhere;to.night?" sl»e | a^rv^^agcment: : Will.ycm give-> 0; ' one?" '-J. ~,3 ' ' She appeared.to;:consider.v. v 3' '" We have Bometfriends 1 . dining/ with;-.us - to-, night-in fact, f: 'it's- fe».' ta^dw-..par^- Ae confessed. " Arid 1/should rather, like-that is, it .would be great .fun lf.you began -to plav in the garden while we were, at dinner, And perhaps afterwards we niight datiM.in the hall. , It would be quite-like/the, stories,, of , "dering minstrels?.wftuHiiitVJj? 'jC T,i----"It would; and at the end, when,l m .preparing to take my departure, I should whip . my disguise and turn out to be a long-lost friend. ,The strolling minstrel a|ways managed . ~to do something uncalled for, if you remem-^ Vivian looked;at him, and laughed out"l'm not- sure -I,ougKt.ia have- asked yoii, she .said, and • hcr'/eyeWanced; -. . Jou-.vmay, turn-out to be a fraud.",'i^:-.-'. : ,■ > " It's too late; for scruples, ithe, fiddler de- • clared, emphatically. " Ypu havo engaged nie,. , and I'm coming. What time-shall I turn .up?,. , "And am I to annoim,co, by,ringing, or shall I strike up ! soft, music without ? . ' >'0h", don't> woijld' spoil, it all-and, come 'about half-past"-eight." side l . path which' leads from the'drive round to't.ho ' lawn; you will see might stand'behind, it; it's jnst outside the dining-room window. Shall you remember?. > • find that syringa -bush >~ or 'perish in the attempt," he asseverated.. • Miss Vivian. gathered her ; soft white skirts iri one hand and turned to go, only to come 'tack again witK a deprecating glance anfl^a^ , faint blush. ft f-, '£ ' "I forgot to iorms.v she,said.; *•,•'- "They are—elastic,", replied the fiddler a , trifle curtly, that .entoatic.anOTf.C Miss Vd|ian ;wa6wbligjsdyto _be,ionten{.*j| Uj J lips and a light in her eyes which they had lacked when she entered' the wood. r 1 Of the fact that the fiddler was .jvell brcd her senses assured her; that he -was indeed, a gentleman her iiistinct affirmed. " 'But;; such being the case, how canio lie thus. innsquerading? - An .unwelcome:,' thoiiglit .ithat ho might have: been. guilty , action obtruded itself, promptly.: Arid, after all./iip. harjii: had been, done by asking him to the delectation of; her guest : .;,.■ . i/ -> i .-v,-/->■/,/.. v- • Conversation was in fulU'swing round tho dinner table when,-at the Aagid hour'of eightthirty, ;,tho strains of a vjolin-'-rang out from ' the, lawn.; ~ ~ iS ■ . "Bless-my soul, ;what s 1 tlfat? ejaculated tho 1 " Squire. ; ' J " ' ■ "Some tramp. fellow "'on the lawn, : . apparently," replied Philip -I Maynb.V' - r 'X v : "He's, not a tramp,"' Marjorio declared, up in arms at once for her protege. "Dad, I met him in our \yood this morning, and told him 'he might play hero to-night.",. "As a reward for trespassing?".:queried herparent, lifting his brows. _ ■_ Trespassers were anathema to Mr., Vivian, but his daughter's vagaries never met with harsh judgment . Marjorie, who knew she was the apple, of her father's., eye, took,s.candalous advantage of the fact.«L% '''it "No;- but I thought;it'Jn^uldSbe-nice.s We" ■ might have him in the liall afterwards and dance." '■- . V'ri' "My dear child, your programme ys; some; what Arcadian, isn't it? I dori't'-relish the idea of having a. member of tho Great . Unwashed 'within four walls'." . . "But I tell you he is not o tramp, dad," Marjorie reiterated 7 Her cheeks had deepened in colour, and her eyes flashed defiance upon the smiling faces round the table.' . "Whatever he is, he'can play;" Mayne put

in; arid his • words had the effect of making the others cease talking, to listen.' The fiddler was playing Chopin's;, twelfthvnocturne,' and the manifold oravirigsf; of,'the human , .heart seemed, caught up aritl'mergid-'in' one 1 insistent cry. ' . . , j Silence descended upon tho dinner table, •wherp every individual.-.,ha(l;temporarily his self-consdousness. • ' T:

The Squire's' thoughts .hadjlown to ascertain grave in ,the little: tTvyme-sceSted/ichufchyard ; « where Miirjorio's mother' slfpt 1 , and thi: folk / dreamed the usual dreams, of ; youth— fame, love—the ages-old dreams \vhich are for ev.er being created anew. Marjorie's alone took no tangible- shape. .-It seemed to her that she was 'looking into a pair of dark eyes whoso mute eloquence was revealing ''matters, un<ittexsibls t ' hitherto unguessed at,'undreamed-of.*-" Tiring of things' mystical,- the fiddle', suddenly clumped its theme, leaping/abruptly, into, the prelude : to a polka. ;.=lt'i laughed; l tempted,compelled. Philip Mayne sprang to his feet. , "By jove, Marjorie, that was a : ripping notion of .Vours about dancing," he exclaimed. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. , I. forgot: you had vetoed it." . The.Squire shrugged his shoulders. ' "Marjorie invariably gets her bwri way," he remarked ruefully. "But, air the same, I think I'll havo a look at the fellow first." lie rose from the table, stepped through the open window, and made for the syringa bush. The musician's cyeS'*'we';Tixed "dfeahiiljf onthe evening sk.v; he'.appeared; absorbed in. the' strains, his fiddle wa's^'outpouring;'.; but : 3.the-, notes ceased abruptly_.aff .thij , Squire's .pqr.tly; figure crossed his' line or vision. Ho started then as if from sleep, and raised his bat. • The Squire, who was said to be no mean judge of men, ran his eye over the wellgroomed figure in the weather-beaten garments, noted tho. spotless linen, tho well-kept-hands. Then he.glanced keenly at the'man!s face, and met the steady gaze .which had fascinated Marjorie. "I am really quito .respectable," murmured the fiddler reassuringly;'arid there was an unmistakable ■ gleam oft humour in his eye. " The Squire's countenance relaxed in spite of himself.', "My : daughter is anxious for some dance music," he said. "Will"you come this way?" The.'fiddler followcd„himi into tho hall, and selected a seat in of the staircase. Presently.die raised lns.<violini and burst into the "Post-Horn" gallop'.' The'atmosphere seemed charged with some intangible force, and in a few minutes the hall was' full of twirling figures. The throb of the . music was' irresistible—it ' swept ; the dancers along as a \v-ave,s>y,eep^the, seaweed.on its crest. j Tho ISqiliro and Mrs." Carey,' Marjorie's" godmother, wlio had settled themselves resipnedly to watch tho scene,'presently found" their .feot becoming unaccountably restless" 'and"'their bodies swaying to the tune in unseemly fashion. Suddenly Mrs. Carey laid her hand on the Squire's arm.. ; ' ; y" ' ' "James, she said solemnly, "I'm sixty-five, but if you don't take mo away at once I shall be asking you to dance with me." . v. , ■ Mr. Vivian looked iifher slieepishly. ' "I was just going to suggest our having a

turn," ho..stammered;.;'.his -.left-,foot beating time madly.; ■ .-!;■ , ,V /:"Jnmes! Danco.at our age !" . Realising' tho enormity 'of>his suggestion, .tho Sti'uiro roseand meekly offered: his arm.^ Take mq out -of., temptation, then," he urged. "Ah, 'Dora, -hotrt it.'.Wjngs'• back the old tads! ■ . DoX you ''rcnieiubcr,\.that evening at • Canterbury .'when, you' met ";Dick ?". ~ '"Do I; remeiriber?" echoed Mrs!, Carey softly. They passed into the gardenV with quickened memories clustering'arotind them. ! ' :,'fThe'fiddler skt' very, istill. in Ins. cornor after the gallop was*.'finished. Probably it was a coincidence that":.\he , appeared' to watch -Miss Vivian apd' Philip 'Me.vne rather 'closely; their doings-could not be- supposed-to ,hold aiiy .intort'st for.hini. ' '. •• • : - But after-a. very brief ' interyal : ho began a waltz which brought tho dancers hurrying in from the ■ garden'' even as tho piper lured the children. . ..It was. an.-.01d,; waltz< written on a , song—Marjorip -lia'd. hoard her ..godmother, sing ; it years ago : : '•' • J;...::.■•-J, - :'y'< 'it-.*w&-gSyi 'iiiglit"'dnd diiy,'V •' ' • Fair and cloudy weather,. •.V-» > iFiddle and I, '.wandering' by, ' V"* Over tho world together. .• . The violin's it, was liko the voice of ;,a . man singing wit ha sob in • his throat.'. For no reason . whatever it t brought the. tears,. welling ', hotly, into Marjroje's eyes. For no reason whatever, .it fired' Philip' • Mayne with the. passion of youth, with 'the longing .to know that ho might caU 'Marjorie his.' "It's awfully hot.iin'here;, shall we.stop?" ho- doraan'ded abruptly. -"And there's .something I'waiit' to.'sayi'to you."But Marjorie, who. knew what; that something .was,' was,possessed by,a. swift,, nameless fear:: : "No,' .I'm not ■,a 1 bit .tired,", she cried.,:. -.;, Sh'o .could not .see .tli.e fiddler's face .as.she spun round,, he - was sitting , so' much in the 'shadow, but she seenied to hear' his voice quite plainly—a.,quiet. voice to which an answering ono ; deep /in .her.' sodl had'vibrated. ' And he Vvas surely calling ■ to' her, : noirV; calling.V;,

"I: begged her 'to stop," she / heard.-;. Mayne Baying, through what sounded like the noise of rushing waters, and Mrs.: Carey •rcplyin'g : , "Of course.it. was only the-heat and excitement. coming', round." ' Miss Vivian opened", her eyes. to find herself lying" on', the. sofa .in the study.; ; .. <. . ,"Did I.faintP Hoiv awfully.litupid of'mq, she said : apologetically. "?K'Pleasfe . everybody .begin dancing-agiiihj'or, Kshiill be. miserable. . For -'the, rest of -the. evening] she "sat;but/ a flame'of, crimson: burning:'; in" her. .cheeks, her - tongue running as lightly,'nsj ever.' ' But when,: the -last of her'guests had pone she crept back .to the . study,; i and waited, 1 listenings,breathlessly - to. heiv ■ father's;- v.oice spealcihgTtoi someone-.-ill, flic ■ hall.' :Tho door opened,'artd : th'd' Squiro-'cariie in. ' ■ V "Marjoric,: your wants ,to wish you 'good-night jjfeut -I'll-j'tell;■ liim v you don't.,feel well enough,to see him,..eh?" . . " "ButTni all iight now, daddy, and II; should Jike to, .'played so 'beautifully." ; "Yes. 'bui 'liiiyabeoiutcly'declines to be paid; I chn't .make, 'the- fellowi out. \Doh't gQ stand--ing'aboiit' now;:out i ''therc l " r ''stiid the Squire. admohishingly,"as' heprepared to. mix-himself • a- long-deferred ..whisky and .i'soda.;: .'Marjbrie nodded-reassuringly and closed,the door. In the :haU"stood ,'tho' fiddler.. .'• "Aro ybii/.feeling all-right now?" ho,a?ked.-"Quite-vthant, you wanted,, to thank " you .'-vei'y.r lriucti jtot. your.'; playing,,-...0T0u-ryou •won't ; li:t^us-rr-r"• : ;. v, ■".. -.-S,-' ■ ■ ■ vhnnd; . .;i'-No;,-.it .was/a'';pleasu're.-< : '-Li-w6ndqr--if 'you-would-meotvine ■in your wood' again to-morrow: morning, MiM Viviiin?." .---"rt"-' i •'.-•' It. waS inipertihent, it was -an-:'unheard-of iibuirty, how., dared -he-suggest such, a thing? She looked at hini, and the scuthmg light ,in her eyes was suddenly quenched.. • . "Yes," she said meekly.... i--:|lio-Vas'SiWing|iir tjio a'samp placp.' Outwardly 6VcVything looked r tHe s^ine, v so if there was any change it must be in herself, but it ;--Wte ; 'iibt thefmOm&it foreclose.: analysis..... She , ,timo ; = lie''was' on his feet long. before sho reached him, watching,- her -eagerly as a shipwrecked salior watches- the distant sail,: ... . . i(m - 'poi)d.'of: you to-come, ho said. Ihe. y?. u tho troth—tisiri .I'm: iitj'Jiid;'but I cant help it, and 1 promise: kt'ep.you long. Won't jro.iv sit d6wn-?.-.-i'l;\can',:rtcommend that stump. - . Miss.'i WviahV cbmpliedV silently, and tho 1 tree and ;*n.er;; >.5,; .y _i • ...'. I -"My'^ < Sir::' Charles, Bertram, ■'■hh r ;hegaui ; 'abriiptly.,i"l^s; : 'ppssible you , may -remember "his ■ losing.: all:,-his iiipney.nl a..bank smash—anyway, it was-in all the papers. Ihe shock of it killed shim,v.and my brother and 1 were left stranded "(.[Ned is a budding author, and X' jfas in Hie service; .Of'course,' I had to chuck it up when the smash came— the Army is no trade [for a pauper; but'l was in .luck, for I got'ttic offer, ; of aLbillet in a nondescript l South. African •regiment.' .1 'was on the point of closing" with it when Ned wrote saying he had caught an awful cold and that the doctor seemed .to think him, pretty, seedy. •He's falways : been, 'a sort of., fellow, very different from .'me, and so I hurried up to town. I .saw the doctor, ,who 'said he was afraid of consumption, and that Ned must live an'open-air life or go for a'sea voyage. The latter idea-Was; abo.ut un feasible'as a voyage to:the inoon, J and>-'l,had to/cast about for the b4t '^lt6rnUtive.-^-B4 : to get: him into one of ;-thbse-'*sinatoriiim.'.yla6cs, and, besides,, all thbSp.-thiiigs' take', time,- which was ;Svh'at i-I, aftofd I'toi waste. Well, I re-fts^-t^-'-gorith 1 : African - ; billet—luckily, I hadn't let-on aboiit it.'to Ned—and I .arranged to,: take- him for a" sort of-easy walking tour that should-last tlie whole;summer. Like that ho would tsee : plenty of'; fresh : things 'arid people,'.-'and yet>would be. living-out of-doors. Between us I thought we might eke out the shekels,': for-he could get on-with.'.his scriboling,, and I .-could .tryr; my luck; with ' .the fiddle.' ; ' Eve, .always been moo^pr4«s!i'..mußicmad,-» ahd': :t^Ken»rthfe;. r lio'n's: 3 6hare, all the fa!r .the plan has-answered ddiriiraßlyi v"\Vo'ye' been' on the r.oad sinci) r l'(ed's'lo()kifig a different being; Tliat;B\ you to know.".'. ' : .V- '. ""Miss- 1 Vivian was-;not':lttoki'ilg' at- mm: ■ "You';'would -liavfr- liked : t'o- go to•-Africa?" .\vas:all»6lto said.. / iyi?*'.-:'.. •••' ; :"I- , mirkeeii .on soldiering; it s'my trade, -he

answered lightly. " "But -the one thing that makes lifo worth; .living is generally the one you've got to do without—at least, that's been 'my experience. And I'm tolerably philosophic cal as. a- rule janyway, I wfts until—' '•

"Until?" : • ■ "Until yesterday;" (concluded the . fiddler. • Miss ".Vivian's yittlc-iairs and : Tgrdces. appeared to • lmve • deserted her.; at the -moment she, was aware of, nothing.-but;. the spirit behind : his eyes' .whi'eh,.was^'tMkiiig'. .. . . "Tell me. one thing.. ~'.Are you engaged to that,.younfe.fellow ;jou. were dancing with last night? I lcuow I'ye no Hght to ask, but-; —" ;"N—no; but he wants me to .marry'him'."' ' ' "And 'yon?'" 'His-toiie was sharp. "I wasn't suro until yesterday." "Why yesterday?" lie demanded inexorably. Miss Vivian )hiid risen; Iher hands were pressed close against her breast—the attitude of one,who.guards some precious, thing. "I—l can't tell you,".slie.said. "I-think/ I "can /guess,'';said. ; /,tho;;;.fiddler isoftl'y, ind'strahgoly'' cnotigh;V'their ; ,liands and. .'eyes met. J ,'V'. '■,'■■■ v' : \ "If "In could, I'd ask' you to wait for , me, ; lie 'went on. "But it' ivouldir't' be' playing tho' gairic';" Aii imp of mischief danced' Suddenly in Miss Vivian's eye's. • .''"Then : I; must Wait without being askedj 'which; is humiliating," slio remarked -demurely: "'lt niny be for. years-—- quoted ..the fiddler desperately, but,.his'grasp;of her fingers tightened. "What does it matter," if all ono, asks is—to wait?" Miss. Vivian replied.' \ It was then that the*'fiddler flung the last shred of convention to the winds and took her t.io -nrnis. : ' ;. ' 1 . —Tonman Coupcr. in."M;A.P."