her tiresome money.
Charlie had assumed a pensive air and fixed his fine eyes upon her
with an expression of tender admiration, which made her laugh in
spite of all her efforts to seem unconscious of it. She was both
amused and annoyed at his very evident desire to remind her of
certain sentimental passages in the last year of their girl- and
boy-hood, and to change what she had considered a childish joke
into romantic earnest. Rose had very serious ideas of love and had
no intention of being beguiled into even a flirtation with her
handsome cousin.
So Charlie attitudinized unnoticed and was getting rather out of
temper when Phebe began to sing, and he forgot all about himself
in admiration of her. It took everyone by surprise, for two years of
foreign training added to several at home had worked wonders,
and the beautiful voice that used to warble cheerily over pots and
kettles now rang out melodiously or melted to a mellow music that
woke a sympathetic thrill in those who listened. Rose glowed with
pride as she accompanied her friend, for Phebe was in her own
world now a lovely world where no depressing memory of
poorhouse or kitchen, ignorance or loneliness, came to trouble her,
a happy world where she could be herself and rule others by the
magic of her sweet gift.
Yes, Phebe was herself now, and showed it in the change that
came over her at the first note of music. No longer shy and silent,
no longer the image of a handsome girl but a blooming woman,
alive and full of the eloquence her art gave her, as she laid her
hands softly together, fixed her eye on the light, and just poured
out her song as simply and joyfully as the lark does soaring toward
the sun.
“My faith, Alec that’s the sort of voice that wins a man’s heart out
of his breast!” exclaimed Uncle Mac, wiping his eyes after one of
the plaintive ballads that never grow old.
“So it would!” answered Dr. Alec delightedly.
“So it has,” added Archie to himself; and he was right, for just at
that moment he fell in love with Phebe. He actually did, and could
fix the time almost to a second, for at a quarter past nine, he
merely thought her a very charming young person; at twenty
minutes past, he considered her the loveliest woman he ever
beheld; at five and twenty minutes past, she was an angel singing
his soul away; and at half after nine he was a lost man, floating
over a delicious sea to that temporary heaven on earth where
lovers usually land after the first rapturous plunge.
If anyone had mentioned this astonishing fact, nobody would have
believed it; nevertheless, it was quite true, and sober, businesslike
Archie suddenly discovered a fund of romance at the bottom of his
hitherto well-conducted heart that amazed him. He was not quite
clear what had happened to him at first, and sat about in a dazed
sort of way, seeing, hearing, knowing nothing but Phebe, while the
unconscious idol found something wanting in the cordial praise so
modestly received because Mr. Archie never said a word.
This was one of the remarkable things which occurred that
evening. Another was that Mac paid Rose a compliment, which
was such an unprecedented fact, it produced a great sensation,
though only one person heard it.
Everybody had gone but Mac and his father, who was busy with
the doctor. Aunt Plenty was counting the teaspoons in the dining
room, and Phebe was helping her as of old. Mac and Rose were
alone he apparently in a brown study, leaning his elbows on the
chimneypiece, and she lying back in a low chair looking
thoughtfully at the fire. She was tired, and the quiet was grateful to
her, so she kept silence and Mac respectfully held his tongue.
Presently, however, she became conscious that he was looking at
her as intently as eyes and glasses could do it, and without stirring
from her comfortable attitude, she said, smiling up at him, “He
looks as wise as an owl I wonder what he’s thinking about??