The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 17

"Well, the only thing I can do is punish you," the woman said bitterly. "You will sit back down and practice that lesson until you can play it perfectly. And then you will go to your room and stay there for the rest of the day without any books or entertainment. Now, take out your handkerchief and dry your eyes immediately. It is unsightly to cry over something so small."

Mrs. Carlyle left her niece to obey her commands, leading Enna away with her. Finally, Grace managed to stop crying. Then, feeling broken and angry, she set her fingers on the piano keys and ran them up and down in the same pattern, stumbling now and then with an unnerving noise.

Time dragged on and on. It felt like hours. Gracie practiced until she hated the sound of that monotonous song. Then, her anger melted into bored, hopeless compliance. At last, she gave up her inner fight with a sigh and resigned herself to a state of unhappy subjection.

Halfway through her lesson, she couldn't help giving some thought to the riddle she and Timothy had found. And then the melody which she had built around the somber words started echoing in her memory. She paused for a second, abandoned her lesson, and pressed down the chord of A minor. One note followed another until the song in her aching heart began to form. Then, in a quiet voice she began to sing, "In darkness thou shalt find an end. The ancient sentinel standeth guard..."

She sang the whole riddle two or three times, getting better at it all the while. For just a few minutes, joy started rising up within her as the delightful mystery captivated her mind. But the moment was quick to end.

"It is a beautiful melody," a voice suddenly said. The girl gave a start and turned around. Her eyes were full of fear and astonishment, but a sparkling smile met her startled gaze. In the doorway, Mr. Bently stood. He looked dashingly handsome as the sunlight turned his hair to gold and made his dark eyes shine.

"Forgive me," he apologized. "It was the furthest thing from my intentions to frighten you! My name is Bently; Jonathan Bently." He moved forward to receive the polite hand which the girl offered him.

"My name is Grace Lansbury."

"It is the greatest honor to meet you!" he said, bowing over her hand with an air of chivalry. "I beg your pardon for interrupting your performance. But the music drew me in. Where did you learn it?"

Gracie folded her hands in her lap and looked down with a humble blush. Mr. Bently's voice was clear and kind. His eyes sparkled with animation and cheer. There was something so charming about him.

"I...read the words on a piece of paper in my bedroom," the girl replied shyly. "Lady Denzell wrote them. And then...well, I made up the tune myself."

A look of astonishment and interest filled Bently's eyes. "You mean to say that you invented that lovely piece of music?" he asked with pleasure. "Well, I call that an exceptional talent! Your mother and father must be very proud of you!"

Gracie tried to smile, but she couldn't. And she knew if she uttered a word, she wouldn't be able to keep herself composed. As her countenance fell, the young man's cheerful face softened with concern.

"Dear girl, have I upset you?" he asked.

Gracie quickly shook her head. "Oh, no, sir! Not at all!" she answered with a quaver. "It is nothing, really."

"Nothing?" the man repeated in sympathy. "Miss Lansbury, you are crying. What is wrong?" he asked.

"I am so sorry!" she sniffled. "It's only that...I have no mother or father now." Her last words ended with a quiet sob, and she hid her face in her hands.

"Oh, what a blundering idiot I am!" Bently mourned. "I should not have spoken without knowledge. But, dear child, do not cry, I beg you. It rends my heart to see you so. Besides, what I said yet stands true. I do believe your parents would have been proud of you. Who could not be? I have only seen you at a glance, and yet I know that you are likely the most talented young lady I have ever met!"