"The politicians are pretty busy," confirmed the judge.
"Whom do you think I saw on the street to-day, Danvers?" asked Blair, suddenly. "McDevitt!" he announced, waiting for no speculations.
"No!"
The men were surprised, for McDevitt, the missionary-trader, had long since been forgotten.
"He says that he lives in Montana now, somewhere near the Canadian line."
Just then a messenger boy brought a telegram for Danvers, who excused himself to read and answer it. As he returned the opening bars of Leonora's florid song sounded, and under cover of the music the doctor whispered to O'Dwyer: "You did better to-night in your whole-souled praise than when your elbow was sprained at Fort Macleod. This is the girl!"
"Betcher life she is! An' what's more, she's on!" The Irishman reverted to trooper slang in his ardor, and got a sharp nudge from the doctor in consequence.
The beautiful melodies followed in swift succession. Miss Blair gave a sigh of appreciation as the Miserere "Ah che la mort" was sung, and unconsciously put out her hand. The sleeve of her soft evening gown brushed Danvers' arm, and instantly his heart began to sing. Not so had he been stirred by Eva's conscious touch, years before. Eva had not struck the chord divine—this thrill revealed it.
"I want to live," breathed Winifred, "while there is such music and such love in the world. I don't care if it is old—the opera. Music and love never grow old."
As the duet ended, Winifred and Philip, each in the thrall of the divine song, looked deep into each other's eyes. Confused, startled, the spell was broken, and Winifred turned again to the stage.