Aprü 1931
T h e K i n g ’ s - B u s i n e s s
164
“And God, said, This is 'Die token of the covenant which I make between me and you, and every living crea ture . ' . . I do set my how in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud” { Gen. 9: 1-2-14). • - - * * * •i^^^*.ONSTANGE, we must get to know that girl,” .ÆrbTffi “Impossible, sweet coz ! The most aloof young ;;.woman.. I ever saw 'nB&sSÈÊt- i: “Brown eyes)” said Althea dreamily, “and -haiv—my dear, sunbeams ! A nimbus of them!” JffX . “All very: true, but she wishes to meet no one.”: : “Doesn’t a single ¡person on this boat know her?” ■“Neither single nor married, apparently.” “Connie darling! YoUr one fault is slipping into low wit.” “Here comes your inother, Althea.” fat The girls sobered. This ¡Mediterranean trip had been recommended ’so urgently by their doctor, as the best pos sible thing for Mrs. Sumner/ that they had hastily started off, two days after the nerve specialist, in conference with Althea’s father, had said: “Your son’s sudden death and the unusual circumstances that surrounded it have so af fected yoür wife that I most earnestly advise you to get her ¿‘way. '•"Send her off to other" lands—southern Europe ; Mediterranean cruise excellent.” Althea and Constance entertained a trembling hope that Mrs. Sumner was no longer so bitterly opposed to their Thin Red Line.: It was only a hope as yet. But they watered it with much prayer and took care of her so lovingly that she could not but be touched. She dropped into a deck chair now, sighing a little. “Well, girls, the ship concert is on for tonight.” “No!” from Althea. “Really?” from Constance. “Yes ! And your unknowable fair one is to sing. Her name is Beatrice Guicciardi.” “Do you suppose she could be descended from Beeth oven’s Countess Julia?” “Oh ! The one he wrote the Moonlight Sonata’ for ! I hardly think so. ' Something about Marie,’ she’s to sing.” “ ‘Ave Maria,’ perhaps.” ' “No. We’ll see tonight. And one of the men at the luncheon today, who had been objecting to the concert as an unnecessary affliction, spoke of her. She comes, he says, from our own state of California. She was brought up in Del Norte County in the extreme north by very un
usual parents. -Thi.s was all I could gather for Althea.” And Mrs. Sumner smiled, at their interest. iji * sjc---"v' ■ . “I don’t see her anywhere.” < “She is the next one on the program.” ‘'There she comes!” A little ripple of surprise ran over the audience as Beatrice. Guicciardi came quietly .down the aisle from the back row where she had been sitting. She might have posed for a picture entitled “Modesty” as she stood be fore them. There was something striking in her very womanliness. . Her white dress with its elbow sleeves fell to her, ankles .in a series of fleecy ruffles. A chaste organdy fichu revealed only her girlish throat. Her fine spun-gold hair was drawn into a great soft knot in the ,nape of her neck. It was filleted with a silver band. She looked at. them all calmly and began to sing: ' “ ‘There’s a Secret .in IVIy Heart, Sweet Marie.’ ” Althea’s mother gasped and whispered, “That old song'! Your great-aunt used to sing it when I was a little girl .playing in her garden.” Althea nodded and leaned forward to listen. “ ‘When I hold your hand in mine, Sweet Marie, A feeling most divine comes to me; Sweet Marie!’ ” ; It was a song that in its singing made some of the painted women who heard it shift a little uneasily in their low lounging chairs, and caused many a girl to furtively extinguish and dispose of a reeking cigarette. “A h ! An American who is not a flapper!” exclaimed a distinguished Britisher, with a monocle, and a bit of ribbon on his coat lapel. “ ‘Sweet Marie, come to me,’ ” .the young voice went on. “ ‘Not because your face is fair, love, to see.- Bu t your soul so pure and sweet Makes my happiness complete, Makes me falter at your feet, Sweet Marie.’ ” The applause that followed was thunderous and in stantaneous. It was the old-time adoration of genuine, lovely wom anhood, reminiscent of the days of sentiment, two long generations ago, that have been forgotten by a humor ous and speed-loving world! Women lifted their hands uncertainly to their modern coiffures, with a vague feel ing that something was wrong with them and their lives. What? In a few minutes it was over. And after the All the world is full of spring, Full of warblers on the wing, And I listen while ; they sing,
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