I should not be able to sing a note for one year at
least."

"To what do they attribute the disease?"

"To that attack of scarlet fever, and also to the too frequent and
severe cauterization of my throat. Time was when like other fond
fools, I fancied Fate was not the hideous hag that wiser heads had
painted her, but an affable old dame, easily cajoled and propitiated.
With Carthaginian gratitude she repays my complimentary opinion by
trampling my hopes and aims as I crush these petals, which yield
perfume to their spoiler, while I could--"

She put her foot upon the drifting lemon blossoms, and bit her lip to
keep back the bitter words that trembled on her tongue.

"Come and sit here on the steps, and confide your plans to one whose
every scheme shall be subordinated to your wishes, your happiness."

Mr. Minge attempted to take her hand, but she drew back and repulsed
him.

"Excuse me. I prefer to remain where I am; and when I am so fortunate
and sagacious as to mature any plans, I shall be sure to lock them in
my own heart beyond the tender mercies of meddling, marplot fortune."

Her whole face grew dark, sinister, almost dangerous in its sudden
transformation, and, leaning against the railing, she impatiently
swept off the snowy lemon leaves. Mr. Minge took the end of her scarf,
and as he toyed with the fringe, sighed heavily.

"Of course you are forced to abandon your contemplated _debut_ in
Paris?"

"Yes. A _debut_ minus a voice, does not tempt me. Ah! how bright the
future looked when I sang for the agent of the Opera-House, and found
myself engaged for the season. How changed, how cheerless all things
seem now."

"Salome, fate is Janus-faced, and while frowning on you smiles
benignantly on me. I joyfully hail every obstacle that bars your path,
hoping that, weary of useless resistance, you will consent to walk in
the flowery one I have offered you. My beautiful darling, why will you
refuse the--"

"Silence! I am in no mood to listen to a repetition of sentiments
which, however flattering to my vanity, have no power to touch my
heart. Mr. Minge, I have twice declined the offer you have done me the
honor to make; and while proud of your preference, my Saxon is not so
ambiguous or redundant as to leave any margin for misconception of my
meaning."

"My dear Salome, I fear your decision has been influenced by the
consciousness that my poor, petted Constance has occasionally
neglected the courtesies wh