VENNA HASTINGS.
—
CHAPTER I.
There is that in youth, untarnished by the world's experience, that invites the whisperings of diviner things.
"Very fine! Very fine!" exclaimed Professor Strausbey as the last note of the girl's violin died away in its tender pianissimo.
Little Venna drew a long breath of satisfaction, shook her curls as if freeing herself from some unseen power and looked up smiling.
"I almost lost my breath," she said, smiling. "Do you know, Professor, when I play that wonderful music, I can scarcely breathe, and it feels as though some one was holding my hand for me and making my bow move!"
The Professor laughed his answer. "Genius gripping your hand, my dear!" Then seriously, "Don't you think you could do just one more hour's practice a day? You know I'm expecting very big things of you at April's concert. Only one month more!"
"Oh, yes, indeed I can! And I'll surprise even you at that concert! I'll have everyone bowing low to my genius!" she added, her brown eyes fairly dancing with the eagerness of ambition.
"Maybe! You won't, if you slide over your lessons as shamefully as this one," he returned in a suddenly changed tone. "That last was the only good one today."