Melody The Story of a Child

th the ordinary round-shouldered slouch, but with a one-sided droop, as if he had a habit of bending over something. His white hair was fancifully arranged, with a curl ov

he approached the village, his glances became more and more keenly intelligent. He seemed to be greeting a friend in

she caught her little gown on that fence-rail?" He bent over, and seemed to address his violin. "Sat down and took out her needle and thread, and mended it as neat as any woman; and then ran her butterfly hands over me, and found the hole in my coat, and

ack, as the mother scans face and hands and tiny curled-up feet. Finding all in order, he wiped it with a silk handkerchief (the special property of the instrument; a cotton one did duty for himself), polished it, and tuned it, and polished again. "Must

nted to hear "Rosin the Beau," the cradle-song of the fiddle,-the sweet, simple, foolish old song, which every "blind crowder" who could handle a fiddle-bow could play in his sleep fifty years ago, and which is now wellnigh forgotten. It is not a beautiful air; it

pirit of music, the tricksy Ariel imprisoned in the old wooden case; then he began to play "Rosin the Beau." As he played, he kept his e

led this cou

the next

at good quart

me for Rosi

flying,-a child's figure, with hair all afloat, and arms wide-opened. The old man's face lighten

want to kiss you, and I am afraid of hurting her. Put her down, do you hear?" She stampe

id you? You knew the old man was here, waiting for his little maid to come and meet him, as she always has. Wher

across her; but Aunt Vesta said no, she knew it was all nonsense, and we'd better finish our strawberries, anyhow. And then I heard that you wondered why

see, jewel, soon as you could get here. And how are the good ladies, hey; and

, Rosin, and do my eyes still look as if they were real eyes?" She looked up so bright

d man. "Dollars? no, that's no name for it. Th

hose hair was so brown. I promised Auntie Joy we would sing that for her, the

long, long love, this s

to me. It is a beauty, and you must make

s here and sometimes there. I'd feel a call here, and I'd feel a call there; and I seemed to be

ou, Rosin, 'cause you'd be in fifty pieces if they did." She laughed joyously, throwing her

ories," he said; "everything you shall hear, little Melody; but her

rough his hair, bringing the snowy curl which was the pride of his heart a little farther over his forehead. "Now I'll do, maybe," he said cheerfully. "And sure enough, there's M

I hope your h

e-wisp, when I could not hear a sound. But I'm very glad to see you. We were saying only yesterday how long a time it was since you'd been here. Now you must sit down, and tell us all the news. Stop, though

thrown back, and Miss Rejoice's sweet voice was heard, saying, "Go

t to hear your voice, Miss Rejoice, so it is," he said heartily. "I hope your health's been pret

sponded the invalid, ch

't I, Vesta? And wher

e? I'm sure you have a

spaper when you come

, with Melody's hand in his. Miss Vesta produced her knitting; Melody gave a little sigh of

sin," she said. "Tell

ings that would grieve your tender heart more than a little. We will not talk about those; but I have seen bright things too, sure enoug

ther's second cousin once removed. Don't tell me that Myra has a daughte

hat she wanted to marry a hero (what girl does not?), so he thought he would try his hand at heroism. There was a picnic this spring, and he hired a boy (or so the boy says-it may be wicked gossip) to upset the boat she was in, so that he, the lover

. "To risk the life of the woman he pret

for wrongdoers, much sorrier than for the righteous who suffered. They would be sure to get good

him; and the other lad was a good shot, and went about with

What did the bride wear? Tha

ys made a point of remembering the dresses at weddings, a

diamonds, and she had little white satin slippers, for all the world like Cinderella. They were a present from her Grandmother Anstey, over at Bow Mills. Her other grandmother, Mrs. Bowen, gave her the dress, so her father and mother could lay out all they wanted to on the supper; and a handsome supper it was. Then after supper they danced. It

a few bars of that immortal dance. It rippled like a

r," she cried. "Did s

ler replied. "No Yankee ever played dance-music in that fashion; I made

took it up, and played the 'Marseillaise,' over it and under it, and round it,-for an accompaniment, you understand, Melody;

iss Lovina asked me to tell you-let me see! what was it?" He paused, to disentangle this particular message from the many he always carried, in his journeyings from one town to another. "Oh, yes

so straitened all these years, and saw no prospect of anything better. The best

ss Rejoice's soft voi

ice, my dear, as well as I do. Any other news in Joppa, Mr. D

ave been entered and robbed, some of money, others of what little silver there was, though I don't suppose there is enough silver in all New Joppa to

, Ro

e Arthenay?

an's face, and then settled back with her for

e young folks, singing old songs, and one thing and another. It was ten o'clock when I said good-night and stepped out of the house and along the road. 'T was a fine night, bright moonlight, and everything shining like silver. I'd had a plea

ion; "have no fear at all! I had none. I saw, or felt, perhaps it was, that he had no pistols; that he was only a poor sneak and bully. So I said, 'Stand yourself!' I stepped clear out, so that the light fell full on my face, and I looked him in the eye, and pointed my bow at him. 'My name is De Arthenay,' I said. 'I am of French extractio

sided, Melody begged him to take "the Lady," and play for her. "I have

little for us, while I get supper. Suppose I bring t

hild, clapping her hands.

set in the vine-wreathed porch, the snowy cloth laid, and the simple feast set forth. There were wild strawberries, fresh and glowing, laid on vine-leaves; there were biscuits so light it seemed as if a puff of wind

ble as this for me to sit down to, wherever I go, far or near. Look at the biscuit, now,-moulded s

flushed wi

mile. "Melody made those biscuit, all herself, without any help. She's getti

t she made these biscu

e frightened at you if

ing up, are you,

he child, vehemently.

want to grow up

short if you are not going to grow up, Melody. If I have let your dresses down once this spring, I've let the

half to listen while the others chatted, yet never forgetting to serve them,

e the fiddler sat smoking his pipe, and leaning against one of the supports, felt among the lea

gently. "She does not want to grow? The bud m

't she? And there is no need at all of another woman. I can't be like Aunt Vesta or Auntie Joy; so I think I might stay just Melody." Then shaking her curls back, she cried, "Well, anyhow, I am just Melody now, and nothing more; and

curves. "She's in perfect trim," he said tenderly. "She's fit to pl

head back with her own birdlike gesture. One would have said that she was calling the spirit of song, which might descend on rainbow

remember sweet

whose hair

light when you g

with fear a

ce,-a face whose only fault was the too eager look which a New England woman must so often gain, whether she will or no. In the quiet chamber, the bedridden woman lay back on her pillows smiling, with a face as the face of an angel. Her thoughts were lifted up on the w

th their babies in their arms; and the weary wrinkles faded from their faces, and they listened in silent content, while the little ones, who perhaps had been fretting and complaining a moment before, nestled now quietly against the mother-breast, and felt that no one wanted to tease or ill-treat them, but that the world was all full of Mother, who loved them. Besi

remember the sc

ter so kind

nook by the cle

red the flower

to be lovers, and she was his wife, sitting here now beside him,-his wife, with his baby in her arms; and he had not spoken to her for a week. What began it all? He hardly knew; but she had been provoking, a

remember sweet

whose hair

nervous that day when she spoke so. The child stirred in its mother's arms, and she gave a low sigh of weariness, and shifted the weight to the other arm. The young man bent forward and took the baby, and felt how heavy it had grown since last he held it. He had not said anything, he would not say anything-just yet; but his wife turned to him

urns slightly, so that she faces Miss V

e merry mo

buds were

rove on his d

of Barbar

o loved her so, or thought he loved her, long and long ago? Does she see his look of dismay, of incredulous anger, when she told him that her life must be given to her crippled sister, and that if he would share it he must take Rejoice too, to love

mind, young m

ed wine was

ealths gae ro

ted Barba

orrow," she might well have grown to look like this handsome,

dow of a thought; but this was the song she used to sing in those old days, and somehow she alwa

s as she listened, now slips away, and goes home and writes a letter; and to-morrow morning, when the mail goes to the next village, two people will be happy in God's world instead of being mise

boat

row m

me o'er

ohn Ross an

e o'er to

he water an'

the water

me woe, we'll

nd die wi'

n draws himself up to his full height, all save that loving bend of the head over the beloved instrument. His long slender foot, in its quaint "Congress" shoe, beats time like a mill-clapper,-tap, tap, tap; his snowy curl dances over his forehead, his brown eyes twinkle with

ny by both hands, and regardless of her breathless shrieks whirled her round and round till the poor old dame had no breath left to scream with. Alone in the midst of the gay throng (as strange a one, surely, as ever disturbed the quiet of a New England country road) danced the blind child, a figure of perfect grace. Who taught Melody to dance? Surely it was the wind, the swaying birch-tree, t

; her fingers beat time, as did the slender, well-shaped foot which peeped from under her scant blue skirt. Suddenly De Arthenay stopped short, and tapped sharply on his fiddle, while the dancers, breathless and exhausted, fell back by the roadside

nt blue skirt, from those wonderful shrunken trousers of yellow nankeen. They moved forward, back, forward again, as smoothly as a wave glides up the shore. They twinkled round and round each other, now back to back, now face to face. They chasséd into corners, and displayed a whirlwind of delicately pointed toes; they retired as if to quarrel; they floated back to make it up again. All the while not a muscle of their faces moved, not a gleam of fun disturbed the tranquil sternness of their lo