Marmion.
Doctor Prance did not reveal her private comment, whatever it was, on this intimation; she only said, after some hesitation—'Well, I presume the old lady will take quite an interest in your being here.'
'I have no doubt she is capable even of that degree of philanthropy.'
'Well, she has charity for all, but she does—even she—prefer her own side. She regards you as quite an acquisition.'
Ransom could not but feel flattered at the idea that he had been a subject of conversation—as this implied—in the little circle at Miss Chancellor's; but he was at a loss, for the moment, to perceive what he had done up to this time to gratify the senior member of the group. 'I hope she will find me an acquisition after I have been here a few days,' he said, laughing.
'Well, she thinks you are one of the most important converts yet,' Doctor Prance replied, in a colourless way, as if she would not have pretended to explain why.
'A convert—me? Do you mean of Miss Tarrant's?' It had come over him that Miss Birdseye, in fact, when he was parting with her after their meeting in Boston, had assented to his request for secrecy (which at first had struck her as somewhat unholy) on the ground that Verena would bring him into the fold. He wondered whether that young lady had been telling her old friend that she had succeeded with him. He thought this improbable; but it didn't matter, and he said, gaily, 'Well, I can easily let her suppose so!'
It was evident that it would be no easier for Doctor Prance to subscribe to a deception than it had been for her venerable patient; but she went so far as to reply, 'Well, I hope you won't let her suppose you are where you were that time I conversed with you. I could see where you were then!'
'It was in about the same place you were, wasn't it?'
'Well,' said Doctor Prance, with a small sigh, 'I am afraid I have moved back, if anything!' Her sigh told him a good deal; it seemed a thin, self-controlled protest against the tone of Miss Chancellor's interior, of which it was her present fortune to form a part: and the way she hovered round, indistinct in the gloom, as if she were rather loath to resume her place there, completed his impression that the little doctress had a line of her own.
'That, at least, must distress Miss Birdseye,' he said reproachfully.
'Not much, because I am not of importance. They think women the equals of men; but they are a great deal more pleased when a man joins than when a woman does.'
Ransom complimented Doctor Prance on the lucidity of her mind, and then he said: 'Is Miss Birdseye really sick? Is her condition very precarious?'
'Well, she is very old, and very—very gentle,' Doctor Prance answered, hesitating a moment for her adjective. 'Under those circumstances a person may flicker out.'
'We must trim the lamp,' said Ransom; 'I will take my turn, with pleasure, in watching the sacred flame.'
'It will be a pity if she doesn't live to hear Miss Tarrant's great effort,' his companion went on.
'Miss Tarrant's? What's that?'
'Well, it's the principal interest, in there.' And Doctor Prance now vaguely indicated, with a movement of her head, a small white house, much detached from its neighbours, which stood on their left, with its back to the water, at a little distance from the road. It exhibited more signs of animation than any of its fellows; several windows, notably those of the ground floor, were open to the warm evening, and a large shaft of light was projected upon the grassy wayside in front of it. Ransom, in his determination to be discreet, checked the advance of his companion, who added presently, with a short, suppressed laugh—'You can see it is, from that!' He listened, to ascertain what she meant, and after an instant a sound came to his ear—a sound he knew already well, which carried the accents of Verena Tarrant, in ample periods and cadences, out into the stillness of the August night.
'Murder, what a lovely voice!' he exclaimed involuntarily.
Doctor Prance's eye gleamed towards him a moment, and she observed, humorously (she was relaxing immensely), 'Perhaps Miss Birdseye is right!' Then, as he made no rejoinder, only listening to the vocal inflexions that floated out of the house, she went on—'She's practising her speech.'
'Her speech? Is she going to deliver one here?'
'No, as soon as they go back to town—at the Music Hall.'
Ransom's attention was now transferred to his companion. 'Is that why you call it her great effort?'
'Well, so they think it, I believe. She practises that way every night; she reads portions of it aloud to Miss Chancellor and Miss Birdseye.'
'And that's the time you choose for your walk?' Ransom said, smiling.
'Well, it's the time my old lady has least need of me; she's too absorbed.'
Doctor Prance dealt in facts; Ransom had already discovered that; and some of her facts were very interesting.
'The Music Hall—isn't that your great building?' he asked.
'Well, it's the biggest we've got; it's pretty big, but it isn't so big as Miss Chancellor's ideas,' added Doctor Prance. 'She has taken it to bring out Miss Tarrant before the general public—she has never appeared that way in Boston—on a great scale. She expects her to make a big sensation. It will be a great night, and they are preparing for it. They consider it her real beginning.'
'And this is the preparation?' Basil Ransom said.
'Yes; as I say, it's their principal interest.'
Ransom listened, and while he listened he meditated. He had thought it possible Verena's principles might have been shaken by the profession of faith to which he treated her in New York; but this hardly looked like it. For some moments Doctor Prance and he stood together in silence.
'You don't hear the words,' the doctor remarked, with a smile which, in the dark, looked
