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It's five hours' ride from Washington. Let's see, there's Bobby and Louise Littell and Libbie, and now Norma and Alice five girls I know already! I guess I won't be homesick or lonely." But as she said it she glanced uncertainly at Bob. That young man snickered, turned it into a cough, and that failing, essayed to whistle. "Bob, you act too funny for anything!"
"I should sooner believe it to be the voice of an angel from heaven, than a darky," responded the bride. "I wish I could hear it again before I sleep." In immediate response to her wish, the full rich voice she had invoked began to sing an air from "Norma," beginning, "O, how his art deceived thee!" Fitzgerald started so suddenly, he overturned a seat near them.
Now, without having completed that romance a very perfect flower could he cast it aside? At this time he was not entangled with any woman. Miriam Finch was too conservative and intellectual; Norma Whitmore not attractive enough. As for some other charming examples of femininity whom he had met here and there, he had not been drawn to them or they to him.
"I know," Norma resumed, hammering her thought out slowly, and frowning down at the teaspoon that she was measuring between her finger-tips, "I know that there are two women in me.
"We're all alone, Aunt Marianna," he said. "Leslie and Annie will be here in the morning, and Alice told me to tell you that she hoped " "Chris," the sick woman interrupted, gazing at him with an intense and painful stare, "this child here Norma! I I must straighten it all out now, Chris. Kate knows. Kate has all the papers letters Louison's letters! Ask Kate " She shut her eyes.
You must go up the north road some day and see the old Macklin house." Norma and Alice fairly glowed as they went back to their rooms with the other girls. Ada Nansen had heard, and she was regarding them with evident respect. Norma and Alice might have been uneasy had they heard Ada's comment when she and Ruth were once more in their own rooms.
It was almost half-past ten when a bell-boy approached. Was it Miss Sheridan? Mr. Christopher Liggett had been called out of town, and would try to see Mrs. Melrose in a day or two. Norma turned upon him a white face of fatigue. "Is Mr. Liggett on the telephone?" "No, Miss. He just telephoned a message." The boy retired, and Norma went slowly upstairs, and slowly made her preparations for sleep.
A year later he composed "La Sonnambula," unquestionably his best work, for La Scala, and it speedily made the tour of Europe, and gained for him an extended reputation. A year after its appearance he astonished the musical world with "Norma," written, like "Sonnambula," for Mme. Pasta. These are his greatest works.
"Did you know my father and mother?" she demanded, presently, in an odd, tense voice. There was another pause before Chris said, slowly: "I have met your father. But I knew I know your mother." "You know her?" The world was whirling about Norma. "Is Aunt Kate my mother?" she asked, breathing hard. "No. I don't know why you should not know. You call her Aunt Annie," Chris said.
Norma was not especially flattered at first, and rather inclined to resent the assurance with which Chris carried his well-known tendency for philandering into his own family, as it were.
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