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swelled from her throat in deep contralto notes, rich as those the organ echoed. But the full glory of the thing, that surpassing music which set Monksland talking for a week, was not reached till she came to the third verse. Perhaps the pure passion and abounding humanity of its spirit moved her. Perhaps by this time she was the thrall of her own song.
Tomley, the rector of a village called Monksland, upon the East Coast of England. I will sum up the history of the thing. For some years I have been getting tired of this place, although, in a way, I love it too.
Now, as it happened, at Monksland the choir was feeble, but inoffensive; whereas the organ was a good, if a worn and neglected instrument, suited to the great but sparsely peopled church, and the organist, a man who had music in his soul.
"At Monksland," answered Morris. "That's all right, that's where I should be, but the ship, the ship" then a pause and a cry: "Stella, Stella!" Morris pricked his ears. "Where is Stella?" he asked. "On the rocks. She struck, then darkness, all darkness. Stella, come here, Stella!" A memory awoke in the mind of Morris, and he leant over the patient, who again had sunk into delirium.
Therefore, although the cook, a far-seeing woman who knew her Thomas and hated him, had experienced pangs of doubt, nobody else troubled the least, and even the small community of Monksland remained profoundly undisturbed as to the fate of one of its principal inhabitants. So little is an unsympathetic world concerned in our greatest and most particular adventures!
The one terror which had haunted the Colonel for years like a persistent nightmare was that a day seemed to be at hand when the Monks would be driven from Monksland, where, from sire to son, they had sat for so many generations.
This is the price which must be paid for vision of that which we were not meant to touch, to taste, to handle." After this, for some years until it was decided, indeed, that they should move to Monksland there was little of startling interest in the diary. It recorded descriptions of the wild moorland scenery, of birds, and ferns, and flowers.
"So I persuaded him to advertise for an exchange, although he said it was a mere waste of money, as nobody in his senses would look at this parish. Then came the wonderful thing. After the very first advertisement yes, the very first arrived a letter from Mr. Tomley, rector of Monksland, where the stipend is 100 pounds a year better than this, saying that he would wish to inquire into the matter.
Fregelius told Morris what he had not yet heard that when it became known that they had deserted Stella, leaving her to drown in the sinking ship, the attentions of the inhabitants of Monksland to the cowardly foreign sailors became so marked that their consul at Northwold had thought it wise to get them out of the place as quickly as possible.
It is over this question of the tables that one of these domestic differences arose which in its results brought about the return of the Monks to Monksland. Upon a certain afternoon the Colonel asked his son to accompany him to Monte Carlo. Morris refused, rather curtly, perhaps. "Very well," replied the Colonel in his grandest manner.
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