time dragged heavily on my hands after the excitement of the squire's ball was over. it was not only that i had to go back to the routine of every-day life—for there was still the concert to look forward to, which gave us plenty of interest—but it was that during a whole fortnight i had been looking for news from joyce, and that joyce had said never a word. no; she had rather been more silent than usual, constrained and unlike her own serene and happy self; and i had been frightened, frightened at sight of the torrent that i had let loose, and doubtful whether, in spite of all his democratic theories, this handsome, courtly, chivalrous knight, who was my embodiment of romance, was really a fit mate for the humble damsel nurtured in the quiet shade.
well, anyhow the torrent rolled on, whether it was really i who had set it free or not, and i was forced to stand aside and watch its course without more ado.
there had been plenty to watch. the village concert had come and gone; it had taken place a week after the squire's ball. captain forrester had worked us very hard for it towards the end. we had had practisings every afternoon, and i had rehearsed my solos indefatigably; but, save for singing in the glees and playing an accompaniment now and then, joyce had taken no active part in the musical performance, and i had fancied that she had kept out of the way a great deal more than she need have done.
on the night of the concert he was, of course, too much excited until the performance was over, to remember even joyce at first; for he was one of those natures who throw themselves ardently into whatever they take up; and he was just as eager over this entertainment, of which he had accepted the responsibility, as though it were going to be given before a select company instead of before a handful of country bumpkins.
well, he was rewarded for his pains. the concert was voted a brilliant success, and by a long way the best that had ever been given in the village.
"when stars are in the quiet skies," and "robin adair," which i sang "by request," as an encore, were greatly applauded, as were also the glees that we had so patiently practised; and though, of course, the crowning point of the evening was captain forrester's own song, poured forth in his rich, mellow barytone, we had none of us reason to complain of the reception that we got; and the stone walls of the old town-hall, that had stood since the days when the headsman was still an institution, responded to the clapping of the people.
to be sure, they wanted father to stand up and give them a speech, but he would have nothing to do with that on this occasion; he said it was one of relaxation and not of work; and he always refused to touch upon things that were sacred to him, for mere effect, or in anything but the most serious spirit. he wished them all good-night, and told them so.
when the fright was over i missed father and joyce. him i found at once, sitting on the steps with two sobbing little ones on his knees—two little ones whose sisters had run out without them, and whose little hearts had been numbed with fear. father would generally neglect any grown-up person in preference to a child. but joyce i could not see.
i felt sure that she must have gone to look after captain forrester; but when presently he came back with his hand bandaged, and said that he had seen nothing of joyce, i was really frightened. i discovered her sitting down in a dark corner of the court-yard, crying.
she said that she had been terrified by the accident, and had run out for safety before any one else. but her manner puzzled me. and for a whole week after that her manner continued to puzzle me.
frank forrester came every day to the grange to see father. they had a new scheme on hand, an original scheme, a pet scheme of my dear father's—the scheme of all his schemes which he held most dear, and one which i know he had had for years, and had never dared hope would find favor with any one. it was a scheme for the succor of those poor children who had either no parents, or whose parents were anxious to get rid of them.
