"Well, let that go for the present. I wish you to come and see me to-morrow at ten o'clock. Will you do so?"

"How can I refoos?" asked Mike, who would have been glad to back out.

"Who is it that I shall ask fur whin I vinture on this part of the boat?"

She gave him her name, thanked him for the meeting and bade him good night. Mike donned his cap and returned to his acquaintances, to whom he told a portion of what had taken place.

Dressed in his best, his obdurate hair smoothed down by dousing it in water and threading a brush many times through it, and spotlessly clean, Mike with many misgivings crossed the bridge the next morning into the more favored section of the steamer. He did not have to make inquiries for the lady, for she stood smilingly at the end of the first cla.s.s promenade awaiting him. She extended her dainty gloved hand, and the lad, who had braced himself for the ordeal, had shed most of his awkwardness.

The brother kept in the background, having been ordered to do so, but he amusedly watched the two from a distance, as did a good many others.

The prima donna conducted Mike straight to the grand saloon and sat down before the superb piano. Others sauntered into the room to listen and look and enjoy.

The frightened Mike hung back.

"Stand right here beside me," she said with pleasant imperiousness. "I will play the accompaniment while you sing 'Mavourneen.'"

"I'm that scared, me leddy, that I couldn't sing a word."

"Tut, tut--none of that. Come, try!" and she struck several notes on the instrument.

Mike's voice was a trifle uncertain at first, but she knew how to encourage him, and soon the tones rang out with the exquisite sweetness that had charmed the listeners the evening before. When with many doubts he finished, he was startled by a vigorous handclapping that caused him to look round. Fully fifty men and women had gathered without his suspecting it. He bowed and was turning to walk to a chair, when the lady stopped him.

"You are not through yet; I must test your voice further. Can you sing any other songs?"

"I have thried a few."

"Name them."

"I can't ricollect them at this moment, but there's 'Oft in the Stilly Night' and----"

"That will do; it is one of Tom Moore's prettiest. Are you ready?"

And the fast increasing audience applauded to the echo. Other pieces followed until the prima donna allowed him to rest. Then sitting down beside him, she said:

"As I told you last night, you have a fortune in your voice. If you can arrange to leave your feeble parents to the care of others, you can soon earn enough to keep them in comfort all their lives. If you can come to Boston or New York when I sing there, you must not fail to call on me and to attend the concert. Here is my card."

She had already written a few lines upon the pasteboard which made it an open sesame to the possessor to any and all of her concerts. Mike thanked her gratefully, and had to promise to come to see her again before the steamer reached New York, and to think over her proposal. He kept his promise so far as calling on her again, not once but several times before she bade him good-by on the pier.

But, as I have said, there was nothing in her plan that appealed to the Irish youth. The modest fellow never told of the occurrence to anyone, nor did he give it more than a pa.s.sing thought in the weeks and months that followed. The brother of the prima donna imparted the particulars to his intimate friend Gideon Landon, the wealthy banker, and in this way I am able to relate the incident on shipboard.

CHAPTER XIV

"THE NIGHT SHALL BE FILLED WITH MUSIC"

The prima donna who grew so fond of Mike discovered several interesting facts about him, aside from his marvellous tenor voice. He had the talent of improvisation. When they became well enough acquainted for him to feel at ease in her presence, he sang bits of melody that were his own composition. She was delighted and encouraged him to cultivate the gift.

Of course he knew nothing about playing any instrument, but under her instruction he quickly picked up the art of accompanying himself on the piano. The music which he sang was of the simplest nature and the chords suggested themselves to his ear.

Another peculiarity of the lad was that, despite his exuberant, rollicking nature, he had no taste for humorous music. When she asked him to sing a lively song, he shook his head. He not only knew none, but had no wish to learn any. His liking was for sentiment and tenderness of feeling. Moore's melodies were his favorites and he knew few others. At the last meeting of Mike and the lady she gave him a fragment of verse which she had cut from a paper and asked him to compose a melody for it.

He promised to try.

With this rather lengthy explanation, and the fact that neither Alvin Landon nor Chester Haynes had ever heard him sing, though both had noticed that his voice was peculiarly clear, you will understand the surprise that awaited them when he walked to the piano and reluctantly sat down. The hoa.r.s.eness which followed his shouting when marooned on White Islands was gone and his notes were as clear as a bell.

Every one expected a mirth-provoking song when he placed his foot on the pedal and his fingers touched the keys. Even Widow Friestone smiled in antic.i.p.ation, while Alvin and Chester feared that in his ignorance of true singing his attempts would become comical to the last degree. The listeners glanced significantly to one another, while he was bringing out a few preliminary notes.

Suddenly into the room burst the most ravishing music from the sweetest voice they had ever heard.

"The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled.

So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more."

With the same bewitching sweetness he sang the remaining stanza, and then paused with his fingers idly rambling over the keys, as if in doubt what next to do.

There was no applause. Not a person moved or seemed to breathe. Then Alvin and Chester looked wonderingly at each other, as if doubting their own senses. Whoever imagined that Mike Murphy was gifted with so wonderful a voice? It seemed as if they were dreaming and were waiting for the spell to lift.

It would have been affectation on the part of Mike to pretend he was ignorant of the effect he had produced. He had seen it too often in the past, and he knew the great songstress on the steamer would not have said what she did had there not been good basis therefor. So, without seeming to notice the hush--the most sincere tribute possible--he sang the old favorite "Mavourneen," and at its conclusion "Annie Laurie," with a liquidity of tone that was never surpa.s.sed by throat of nightingale.

At its conclusion he swung round on the stool, sprang up and dropped into the nearest chair, looking about as if doubtful of the reception that was to attend his efforts.

Nora was the first to rally. She uttered one ecstatic "Oh!" bounded across the floor, threw her dimpled arms about his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"You darling! You sing like an angel!"

"Nothing could be sweeter," added the smiling mother. Mike gently kissed the girl on her forehead, and did not release her until she drew away.

"Ye're very kind. It's mesilf is glad me efforts seemed to plaise ye, though I'm in doubt as to the Captain and second mate."

Alvin walked silently across the floor and reached out his hand.

"Glad to know ye," replied Mike, with a grin, looking up in the face that had actually turned slightly pale. "What is yer name, plaise?"

Chester joined his chum.

"Mike, Alvin and I were silent, for we didn't know what to say. You have given us the surprise of our lives. I am no singer and never can be, but I would give a hundred thousand dollars, if I had it, for your voice.

Alvin makes some pretensions. He is the leader of his school quartette, but he can't equal you."

"Equal him!" sniffed the Captain. "If Mike ever shows himself where our quartette is trying to sing, I shall make every one shut up to save ourselves from disgrace. As for Mike, we'll give him the choice to sing for us or to be killed."

Chester asked reprovingly:

"Why didn't you let us know about this before?"

"Ye didn't ask me, and what could be the difference if ye didn't find it out? Ye wouldn't have larned the same if Nora and her mither hadn't insisted that I should entertain them, as I tried to do."

"You are a queer make-up," replied Alvin, with a laugh.

"Since ye are the leader, Captain, of yer quartette at school, it's up to ye to obleege the company wid something in their line."