Sandra Belloni | Page 8

it is Sunday, perhaps!"
would induce Wilfrid to be guilty of another attempt. The ladies tried
sisterly cajoleries on him fruitlessly, until Mr. Pole, seeing the
desperation of his guest, said: "Why not have her up here, toon and all,
some week-day? Sunday birds won't suit us, you know. We've got a
piano for her that's good enough for the first of 'em, if money means
anything."
The ladies murmured meekly: "Yes, papa."
"I shall find her for you while you go to your charch," said Mr. Pericles.
And here Wilfrid was seized with a yawn, and rose, and asked his

eldest sister if she meant to attend the service that morning.
"Undoubtedly," she answered; and Mr. Pole took it up: "That's our
discipline, my boy. Must set an example: do our duty. All the house
goes to worship in the country."
"Why, in ze country?" queried Mr. Pericles.
"Because"--Cornelia came to the rescue of her sire; but her impetuosity
was either unsupported by a reason, or she stooped to fit one to the
comprehension of the interrogator: "Oh, because--do you know, we
have very select music at our church?"
"We have a highly-paid organist," added Arabella.
"Recently elected," said Adela.
"Ah! mon Dieu!" Mr. Pericles ejaculated. "Some music sound well at
afar--mellow, you say. I prefer your charch music mellow."
"Won't you come?" cried Wilfrid, with wonderful briskness.
"No. Mellow for me!"
The Greek's grinders flashed, and Wilfrid turned off from him sulkily.
He saw in fancy the robber-Greek prowling about Wilson's farm,
setting snares for the marvellous night-bird, and it was with more than
his customary inattention to his sisters' refined conversation that he
formed part of their male escort to the place of worship.
Mr. Pericles met the church-goers on their return in one of the green
bowery lanes leading up to Brookfield. Cold as he was to English
scenes and sentiments, his alien ideas were not unimpressed by the
picture of those daintily-clad young women demurely stepping
homeward, while the air held a revel of skylarks, and the scented
hedgeways quickened with sunshine.
"You have missed a treat!" Arabella greeted him.

"A sermon?" said he.
The ladies would not tell him, until his complacent cynicism at the
notion of his having missed a sermon, spurred them to reveal that the
organ had been handled in a masterly manner; and that the voluntary
played at the close of the service was most exquisite.
"Even papa was in raptures."
"Very good indeed," said Mr. Pole. "I'm no judge; but you might listen
to that sort of playing after dinner."
Mr. Pericles seemed to think that was scarcely a critical period, but he
merely grimaced, and inquired: "Did you see ze player?"
"Oh, no: they are hidden," Arabella explained to him, "behind a
curtain."
"But, what!" shouted the impetuous Greek: "have you no curiosity? A
woman! And zen, you saw not her?"
"No," remarked Cornelia, in the same aggravating sing-song voice of
utter indifference: "we don't know whether it was not a man. Our usual
organist is a man, I believe."
The eyes of the Greek whitened savagely, and he relapsed into frigid
politeness.
Wilfrid was not present to point their apprehensions. He had loitered
behind; but when he joined them in the house subsequently, he was
cheerful, and had a look of triumph about him which made his sisters
say, "So, you have been with the Copleys:" and he allowed them to
suppose it, if they pleased; the Copleys being young ladies of position
in the neighbourhood, of much higher standing than the Tinleys, who,
though very wealthy, could not have given their brother such an air, the
sisters imagined.
At lunch, Wilfrid remarked carelessly: "By the way, I met that little girl

we saw last night."
"The singer! where?" asked his sisters, with one voice.
"Coming out of church."
"She goes to church, then!"
This exclamation showed the heathen they took her to be.
"Why, she played the organ," said Wilfrid.
"And how does she look by day? How does she dress?"
"Oh! very jolly little woman! Dresses quiet enough."
"She played the organ! It was she, then! An organist! Is there anything
approaching to gentility in her appearance?"
"I--really I'm no judge," said Wilfrid. "You had better ask Laura Tinley.
She was talking to her when I went up."
The sisters exchanged looks. Presently they stood together in
consultation. Then they spoke with their aunt, Mrs. Lupin, and went to
their papa. The rapacity of those Tinleys for anything extraordinary was
known to them, but they would not have conceived that their own
discovery, their own treasure, could have been caught up so quickly. If
the Tinleys got possession of her, the defection of Mr. Pericles might
be counted on, and the display of a phenomenon would be lost