“Say Miss Clergy has taken Thurley Precore to New York to have her study for grand opera,” Miss Clergy said, after a moment’s deliberation. “And the engagement with Dan Birge is broken for all time.”
Meanwhile, at Betsey Pilrig’s house, Thurley was kneeling before the gentle old lady and telling in her rapt, dramatic fashion,
“I’m going, Granny. I found out all in a moment that I didn’t love Dan as I should. Of course it hurts a little, but they say it is good to have a love affair terminating badly, if you’re to sing in opera. Anyway, I’m going. You are to stay at the Fincherie and be taken care of forever and ever, and, as soon as I’m famous, I’ll pay Miss Clergy back for all her kindness and we’ll have a lovely, white house, you and I, where I’ll come for vacations. It’s so different from singing in church, isn’t it?” She laughed the innocent laugh of pure joy. “Oh, I’m not afraid I’ll not make good. Something tells me I shall—the same as the day I told Philena that cripples could be conquerors—remember? And, Granny, it is really better for Dan, and, if he comes here to-night to see me, say I’ve gone to bed and I’m too tired to be called ... no, no, I’m sure of myself! Granny dear, don’t let the old box-car fall to pieces, I want it as a souvenir. When I build my beautiful house, it shall stay close beside it. It was my home, you know!” The scarlet lips quivered for an instant.
“But are you happy, Thurley, giving up a good man’s love, going with that woman to New York?” The gentle, narrow mind could not comprehend this whirlwind of events, strange and astonishing.
“I’m happier than I’ve been in years! There must be gypsy in me. I’m happy at the thought of travelling again! The old days, even the hungry, cold ones in the box-car wagon, were happier than the days of being fed and warmed but made to sit in school and sew my stint afternoons. Don’t you see, Granny dear, I’m different; and when a person finds that out for sure and some wonderful thing happens to them like Miss Clergy’s hearing me sing that it’s the right thing to go on and follow the trail? Tell Dan—no, I’ll write him, bless his old heart, he didn’t know I halfway wanted to refuse to marry him,” Thurley sobered as if momentarily contrite.
Betsey Pilrig looked at her with lack of comprehension. “Maybe you’re right—maybe you’re wrong. I’ve no power to keep you. What did she say when she offered to take you away?”
“So many things! I could travel abroad, and, if I worked very hard and the right person trained me, she thought I would be famous and she is to be my godmother as it were. The only condition was not to marry for twenty years—that was easy to promise. For I’ll never love any one but Dan, and all of me didn’t love him. So I gave my pledge. She would not have taken me unless I did. She’s bitter, Granny, because of her own affair. She likes to think of cheating a man of me—poor dear! Why, I didn’t mind the promising.”
“I don’t like the condition,” Betsey said, gravely. “You’re young and you don’t know all that is in your heart any more than the world knows of your voice. That wasn’t fair of her!”
But Thurley in a state of ecstasy refused to listen. She fell to packing, and, when Dan came an hour later, Betsey was forced to send him away with the unsatisfactory message that Thurley was busy—she would see him later.