The Stolen Singer

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The Stolen Singer

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Stolen Singer, by Martha Idell Fletcher Bellinger, Illustrated by Arthur William Brown
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Title: The Stolen Singer
Author: Martha Idell Fletcher Bellinger

Release Date: January 11, 2006 [eBook #17495]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE STOLEN SINGER
by
MARTHA BELLINGER
With Illustrations by Arthur William Brown

[Frontispiece: Miss Redmond detected a passage of glances between them.]

Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers Copyright 1911 The Bobbs-Merrill Company

TO
MY HUSBAND

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I
TWILIGHT IN THE PARK II HAMBLETON OF LYNN III MIDSUMMER MADNESS IV MR. VAN CAMP MAKES A CALL V MELANIE'S DREAMS VI ON BOARD THE JEANNE D'ARC VII THE ROPE LADDER VIII ON THE BREAST OF THE SEA IX THE CAMP ON THE BEACH X THE HEART OF YOUTH XI THE HOME PORT XII SEEING THE RAINBOW XIII ALECK SEES A GHOST XIV SUSAN STODDARD'S PRAYER XV ECHOES FROM THE CITY XVI A FIGHTING CHANCE XVII THE TURN OF THE TIDE XVIII THE SPIRIT OF THE ANCIENT WOOD XIX MR. CHAMBERLAIN, SLEUTH XX MONSIEUR CHATELARD TAKES THE WHEEL XXI JIMMY REDIVIVUS XXII A MAN OF NO PRINCIPLE XXIII JIMMY MUFFS THE BALL XXIV AFTER YOU, MONSIEUR! EPILOGUE

ILLUSTRATIONS
Miss Redmond detected a passage of glances between them . . . . . . (Frontispiece)
"That depends upon whether you are going to marry me."
"It does make one feel queer, you know."
She stood over him looking down tenderly.
"You shall not turn me down like this."

THE STOLEN SINGER
CHAPTER I
TWILIGHT IN THE PARK
"You may wait, Renaud."
The voice was firm, but the lady herself hesitated as she stepped from the tonneau. There was no answer. Holding the flapping ends of her veil away from her face, she turned and looked fairly at the driver of the machine.
He seemed a businesslike, capable man, though certain minor details of his chauffeur's rig were a bit unusual, and now that he had been obliged, by some discomfort, to remove his goggles, his face appeared pleasant and quite untanned. His passenger noted these things, remarking: "Oh, it isn't Renaud!"
"No, Mademoiselle; Renaud hadn't showed up at the office when you telephoned, so they put me on in his place."
"Ah, I see." Accent seemed to imply, however, that she was not quite pleased. "The manager sent you. And your name is--?"
"My name--rather odd name--Hand."
The face half hidden behind the veil remained impassive. A moment's hesitation, and then the lady turned away with a short, "You will wait?"
"As mademoiselle wishes. Or shall I perhaps follow slowly along the drive?"
"No, wait here. I shall return--soon."
The young woman walked away, erect, well-poised, lifting skirts skilfully as she paused a moment at the top of the stone steps leading down into the tiny park. The driver of the machine, free from observation, allowed a perplexed look to occupy his countenance. "What the devil is to pay if she doesn't return--soon!"
The avenue lifts a camel's hump toward the sky in the space of fifteen blocks, and on the top, secure as the howdah of a chieftain, stands the noble portico of the old college. To the westward, as every one knows, lie the river and the more pretentious park; on the east an abrupt descent offers space for a small grassy playground for children, who may be seen, during the sunny hours of the day, romping over the slope.
As the gaze of the woman swept over the charming little pleasance, and beyond, over the miles of sign-boards, roofs, chimneys, and intersecting streets, the serious look disappeared from her face. Summer haze and distance shed a gentle beauty over what she knew to be a clamoring city--New York. Angles were softened, noises subdued, sensational scenes lost in the dimmed perspective. To a chance observer, the prospect would have been deeply suggestive; in the woman it stirred many memories. She put back her veil; her face glowed; a long sigh escaped her lips. Slowly she walked down the steps, along the sloping path to a turn, where she sank down on a bench. A rosy, tired child, rather the worse for mud-pies, and hanging reluctantly at the hand of its nonchalant nurse, brought a bit of the woman's emotion to the surface. She smiled radiantly at the lagging infant.
The face revealed by the uplifted veil was of a type to accompany the youthful but womanly figure and the spirited tread. Beautiful she would be counted, without doubt, by many an