Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“How could you do that?” exclaimed Margaret, reproachfully, with a
keen conception of what lovely effects in singing might be produced by
this richly modulated voice, whose spoken utterances she so admired.
“I might have had such delight in hearing you sing! I am accustomed
to having music so constantly at home. We have a friend there, a
young man, who is almost like one of our own household, who sings
beautifully. He has a lovely voice, so pure and strong, but entirely
uncultivated. In some things it shows this almost painfully, but there
are others that he renders exquisitely. Sacred music he sings best.”
“Ah, that I have never tried, at least not much. Your friend’s voice
is the opposite of mine. I had really very little to begin with, and
an immense deal of practice and training has not enabled me to do much
more than direct properly the small amount of power I possess, and
disguise its insufficiency more or less. It isn’t very much, after
all, and yet how I have pegged away at my scales and exercises! I had
a most exacting master when I was in Germany, and as I was studying
my profession at the same time, I wore myself almost to a skeleton. I
studied very hard at the School of Architecture, but I never practised
less than three hours a day--often four.”
He was talking on, very lightly, but he stopped short, arrested by
an expression on the face of his companion that he was at a loss to
account for. There was a look of enthusiastic ardor in her eyes that
amounted to positive emotion.
“How can you speak so lightly of a thing that was really so noble?” she
said, in a voice full of feeling.
Louis’ face broke into a smile of sheerest astonishment, but at the
same time he felt himself strangely stirred by the feeling that he had
roused this warm admiration in the breast of this fair young lady.
“My dear Miss Trevennon,” he said earnestly, “you amaze me by applying
such a word to my conduct. I went abroad to study architecture and
music, and there was every reason why I should make the most of the
three years I had allotted to these purposes. That I did my part with
some degree of thoroughness was only what I felt bound to do, in the
simplest justice to myself and others. When I think of the fellows who
accomplished twice what I did, contending against such obstacles as
poverty, or ill-health, or the absence of proper facilities, I find
the word _noble_, as applied to myself, almost humiliating. Do you
know, your views on some points are extremely puzzling to me?”
“I am at sea,” said Margaret gently, with a hesitating little smile.
“Things that I see about me seem strange and unfamiliar, and I often
feel that I have lost my bearings. But your resolute application to
studies that must often have been wearying and laborious, to the
exclusion of the relaxations most young men find necessary, rouses my
profound admiration. I have never known a man who was capable of a
thing like that.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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