A Man of Two Countries Part 22

"The opera has been given for the last twenty years," said Senator Danvers to Miss Blair, as she expressed herself delighted to accept his invitation. "You could hardly get a corporal's guard to go across the street to hear it in New York, I fancy; but it was the first opera I ever heard, and I love the old airs."

The theater was filling fast as Danvers held the curtain aside for his guests to enter the box. The distractions of the opposing forces at the capitol were, for the time, dismissed, and he listened with amus.e.m.e.nt to Miss Blair as he a.s.sisted to remove her light opera cloak.

"I've never been in a theater box before," she confessed. "It makes one feel exclusive, doesn't it? And, oh, dear! dreadfully self-conscious.

Suppose I fall out--over the railing? I'm sure I shall bring disgrace upon us!" She looked gaily at her host. "Suppose I should fall over?"

she repeated, her eyes wide with pretense.

"Somebody would catch you," said matter-of-fact Eva.

"If you think that you are growing dizzy from looking over that fearful, two-foot precipice," said Danvers, adopting Winifred's tone, "I'm going to be the one to save you from a tragic death! I'll go around now, and get ready to be a hero!"

"Don't! A lady in an opera box is worth two in the orchestra seats,"

paraphrased Winifred, blithely. "I will not fall out."

As Danvers pulled her chair a little further from the low rail, Winifred noticed his face change.

"What is it?" she asked, in quick response.

Philip smiled a little sadly. "'My heart is on the ground,'" he answered, using an expressive Indian phrase. "I cannot be light and witty. I am cursed with seriousness."

"Your friends like you just as you are." But in this frank avowal the senator found no consolation.

Danvers' enjoyment of the familiar opera was augmented by the appreciation shown on Winifred's earnest, mobile face. The company proved to be exceptionally good, the voices above the average, the acting intelligent and _con amore_. The pa.s.sionate intensity of the Italians soon enthused Miss Blair into forgetfulness of those around her. While her brother and O'Dwyer sat stoically, the doctor contentedly, and Mrs. Latimer indifferent in her secret musing, Arthur and Philip followed, with her, the fortunes of _Leonora_. Not until the curtain fell on act three did she readily join in the chatter of her friends, and then only when Judge Latimer said to his wife: "You should have heard Phil sing '_Di quella pira_' when we were at Fort Macleod. He reached that high note quite as easily as this Italian."

"Don't you believe him, Mrs. Latimer," besought Danvers. "Make allowance for his well-known partiality."

"Certainly," responded Eva, trying to make her tone indifferent. She never was quite sure of her voice when speaking directly to this man who ignored the past.

"Do you sing?" Winifred turned with a quick motion which was characteristic. "Do you, Senator Danvers?"

"I do not."

"But you did?"

"You bet he did!" blurted out O'Dwyer, ever ready to recite the good qualities of Danvers. Thereupon he told of the Christmas supper, Colonel Macleod's request, and the duet. "But they sang in English, so a Christian could understand--not this Dago lingo," he concluded. The Irishman's contempt for the soft Italian syllables was irresistible.

"Oh," sighed Winifred, after the laugh had died away, "I wish that I could have been at Fort Macleod that Christmas night!" she included Judge Latimer in her friendly glance.

"Mr. O'Dwyer did not tell you that he could sing!" chortled Latimer. But O'Dwyer begged to be spared, and after some good-natured raillery the judge acquiesced.

"Has that particular duet already been sung?" Winifred's eyes shone as she leaned toward her host. "If it has I shall insist upon its being repeated."

"You are so used to having people do as you ask that I believe you would," volunteered Eva.

"Of course I would. Everybody does as I wish."

"Perhaps that is because you do not ask impossible things," put in Senator Danvers. "But to relieve your anxiety, and to prevent your rising and asking for something that might be refused, I hasten to a.s.sure you that the duet has not been sung. Mr. O'Dwyer forgot to say that it was the _Miserere_ that we tried to sing for dear old Colonel Macleod. I'm afraid we did it pretty poorly."

From this the conversation drifted to other matters.

"I don't see Mr. Burroughs, Senator Danvers, although your sister and niece are in one of the opposite boxes," said Eva, sweeping the house with her gla.s.ses. "Nor Mr. Moore, nor Senator Hall--although his wife is here," she added.

"Politics are more exciting than Italian opera, I fancy," said Winifred.

"The politicians are pretty busy," confirmed the judge.

"Whom do you think I saw on the street to-day, Danvers?" asked Blair, suddenly. "McDevitt!" he announced, waiting for no speculations.

"No!"

The men were surprised, for McDevitt, the missionary-trader, had long since been forgotten.

"He says that he lives in Montana now, somewhere near the Canadian line."

Just then a messenger boy brought a telegram for Danvers, who excused himself to read and answer it. As he returned the opening bars of _Leonora's_ florid song sounded, and under cover of the music the doctor whispered to O'Dwyer: "You did better to-night in your whole-souled praise than when your elbow was sprained at Fort Macleod. _This_ is the girl!"

"Betcher life she is! An' what's more, she's on!" The Irishman reverted to trooper slang in his ardor, and got a sharp nudge from the doctor in consequence.

The beautiful melodies followed in swift succession. Miss Blair gave a sigh of appreciation as the _Miserere_ "_Ah che la mort_" was sung, and unconsciously put out her hand. The sleeve of her soft evening gown brushed Danvers' arm, and instantly his heart began to sing. Not so had he been stirred by Eva's conscious touch, years before. Eva had not struck the chord divine--this thrill revealed it.

"I want to live," breathed Winifred, "while there is such music and such love in the world. I don't care if it is old--the opera. Music and love never grow old."

As the duet ended, Winifred and Philip, each in the thrall of the divine song, looked deep into each other's eyes. Confused, startled, the spell was broken, and Winifred turned again to the stage.

When the Latimers were alone in their apartments the judge remarked on Danvers' generosity. "I never knew a man who so delighted in giving pleasure to other people. He sent tickets to a family of four to-night because he heard me speak of their love for music; and they'll never know their benefactor."

"You're always ready to sing the praises of Senator Danvers!" Mrs.

Latimer stifled a yawn. "I really get tired of hearing his good qualities enumerated."

While Danvers and his friends were enjoying the opera Joseph Hall sat in a hotel office in Helena, watching the crowd and grumbling at the excitement and bustle of the politicians and hangers-on.

He was something of a power in the political affairs of the State, but to-night the swarming activity of the candidates for the appointive offices displeased him mightily. So did the well-organized methods of one man who wanted to go to Congress--Robert Burroughs. Hall did not belong to the party in power, although he had been elected from his county. As he saw Burroughs' friends hobn.o.bbing with the country legislators he shut his eyes, cursing all men impartially. Like a thorn in the flesh the memory of Burroughs' trick and the resultant lawsuit p.r.i.c.ked his anger into poisonous hate. Outwardly he showed no enmity, but revenge would be sweet. To be sure, he had won his suit and recovered his share of the proceeds from the sale of the mine, but the cause rankled, and had become a mania, not the less dangerous because it was nursed secretly.

In the jostling, good-natured throng of senators, representatives, boys who wanted to be pages, and girls who boldly or coyly tried to interest unintroduced men in their clerical abilities, Joe Hall saw no one with whom he cared to speak. Montana was not yet populous enough to make its leading men unknown to each other, especially the old-timers. As he rose to go he heard his name spoken, and turned to face a man whom he could not for the moment place.

"McDevitt!" he finally exclaimed.

"To command," was the fawning response. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Hall hesitated; he thought that the man would hardly be seeking an office at the capital, and he motioned the Canadian to follow. They pa.s.sed into a small room reserved for semi-private conversations.

"What shall it be?" he asked as they took seats at a small table.

"Lemonade." McDevitt had never drunk openly. Joe smiled grimly at the call-boy's amazement. Lemonade was not often called for at that hotel.