"Under those circumstances a
person may flicker out."
"We must trim the lamp," said Ransom; "I will take my turn, with
pleasure, in watching the sacred flame."
"It will be a pity if she doesn't live to hear Miss Tarrant's great
effort," his companion went on.
"Miss Tarrant's? What's that?"
"Well, it's the principal interest, in there." And Doctor Prance now
vaguely indicated, with a movement of her head, a small white house,
much detached from its neighbours, which stood on their left, with its
back to the water, at a little distance from the road. It exhibited more
signs of animation than any of its fellows; several windows, notably
those of the ground floor, were open to the warm evening, and a large
shaft of light was projected upon the grassy wayside in front of it.
Ransom, in his determination to be discreet, checked the advance of his
companion, who added presently, with a short, suppressed laugh--"You can
see it is, from that!" He listened, to ascertain what she meant, and
after an instant a sound came to his ear--a sound he knew already well,
which carried the accents of Verena Tarrant, in ample periods and
cadences, out into the stillness of the August night.
"Murder, what a lovely voice!" he exclaimed involuntarily.
Doctor Prance's eye gleamed towards him a moment, and she observed,
humorously (she was relaxing immensely), "Perhaps Miss Birdseye is
right!" Then, as he made no rejoinder, only listening to the vocal
inflexions that floated out of the house, she went on--"She's practising
her speech.
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