A Singer from the Sea

by Amelia E. Barr

DEATH IS DAWN.

“In the pettiest character there are unfathomable depths.” “Only one Judge is just, for only one Knoweth the hearts of men.” Sayeth the book: “There passeth no man’s soul Except by God’s permission, and the speech Writ in the scroll determining the whole, The times of all men, and the times for each.” ––Koran, 3d Chap.

The Lanhearnes by an old-fashioned standard were a very wealthy family. They were also a large family, though the sons had been scattered by their business exigencies and the eldest daughters by marriage. Only Ada, the youngest child of the house, remained with her father; for the mother had been dead many years, and the preservation of the idea of home was felt by all the Lanhearne children to be in Ada’s hands. If she married and went away, who then would keep open the dear old house and give a bright welcome to their yearly visits?

Ada, however, was not inclined to marriage. She was a grave, quiet woman of twenty-two years of age, whose instincts were decidedly spiritual and whose hopes and pleasures had little to do with this world. She was interested in all church duties 252 and in all charitable enterprises. Mission schools and chapels filled her heart, and she paid out of her private purse a good-hearted little missionary to find out for her cases of deserving poverty which it was her delight to relieve.

Roland had never before come in contact with such a woman, and at a distance he gave her a kind of adoration. Young, beautiful, rich, and yet keeping herself unspotted from the world or going into it only to relieve suffering, to dry the tears of childhood, and strengthen the failing hearts of unhappy women. Once while walking with Mr. Lanhearne the old gentleman said: “This is Ada’s church. As the door is open let us enter and wait for prayers.” So out of the rush and crush of Broadway the old and the young man turned into the peace of the temple. And as they entered Ada rose up from before the altar, and with a pale, rapt face glided into the solitude of her own pew. Neither spoke of the circumstance, but on Roland’s mind it made a deep impression. At that hour he realised how beautiful a thing is true religion and how holy a thing is a woman pure of heart, calmly radiant from the very presence of God.

In spite of the unhappy memories of the past, in spite of the worrying thoughts which would intrude concerning Denasia, he was not at this time very happy. Certainly not happy enough to contemplate a long continuance of the life he was leading, but well satisfied to pass the winter in its refined and easy seclusion. He knew that Elizabeth would be in London until June, and he resolved to remain in 253 New York until she left for Switzerland. He would then join her at Paris and spend the summer and autumn in her company; beyond that he did not much trouble himself.

He had, indeed, a vague dream of then quietly visiting Denasia and determining whether it would be worth while to educate her for grand opera. For the idea had taken such deep root in his mind that he could not teach himself to regard the future without it, and now that Elizabeth had full control of her riches, he did not contemplate any difficulty about money matters. He still believed in Denasia’s voice, and he had seen that her dramatic talents were above the average; so even in the charmed atmosphere of the Lanhearne home, he could still think with pleasure of being the husband of a famous prima donna.

He was sure that Denasia had returned to St. Penfer. He knew that ever since they came to America she had written at intervals to her parents, and though it was indeed a labour of love for either John or Joan to write a letter, Denasia had had several communications from them. Evidently, then, she had been forgiven, and he had no doubt that for the sake of her child she hurried homeward as soon as it was possible for her to secure a passage.

Still he allowed three weeks to pass ere he made any inquiries. During those three weeks his own life had settled into very easy and pleasant ways. He breakfasted alone or with Mr. Lanhearne. Then he read the morning papers aloud and attended to the mail. If the weather were favourable, this 254 duty was followed by a stroll or drive in the park. Afterward he was very much at leisure until dinner-time, and at nine o’clock Mr. Lanhearne’s retirement to his own room gave him those evening hours which most young men consider the desirable ones. Roland generally went to some theatre or musical entertainment. There was always the vague expectation of seeing and hearing Denasia, and he scarcely knew whether his disappointment was a pleasure or an annoyance.

At the end of the third week he ventured to the Second Avenue house. The room they had occupied was dark. He watched it until midnight. If Denasia had been singing anywhere, she would certainly have returned to her child before that hour. The next night he sent a messenger to inquire for her address, and the boy said, “It was not known. Mrs. Tresham had left two weeks before. She had spoken of England, but it was not positively known that she had gone there.”