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A Nest of Linnets




[_Frontispiece_: "Dick--Dick," she gasped, "a dreadful thing has
happened!"                                         [_page_ 350.]




    A Nest of Linnets

    BY FRANK FRANKFORT MOORE
    AUTHOR OF "I FORBID THE
    BANNS," "THE JESSAMY BRIDE,"
    "THE FATAL GIFT," "ACCORDING
    TO PLATO," ETC., ETC.

    WITH 16 ILLUSTRATIONS
    BY J. JELLICOE

    _London_: HUTCHINSON & CO
    PATERNOSTER ROW      1901

    PRINTED BY
    HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD.
    LONDON AND AYLESBURY.




A NEST OF LINNETS




CHAPTER I


"This will never do, Betsy," said Mr. Linley, shaking his head. "Sir
Joshua calls you Saint Cecilia, but 'twere a misnomer if you do not
sing the phrase better than you have just sung it. 'She drew an angel
down': let that be in your mind, my dear. There is no celestial being
that would move a pinion to help a maiden who implored its aid in so
half-hearted a way. Let us try again. One, two, three----"

    "'Angels, ever bright and fair,'"

sang Miss Linley.

Her father sprang from the harpsichord.

"Gracious powers, madam! the angels are not in the next room--they are
not even in Pierrepont Street, take my word for it; they are in heaven,
and heaven, let me tell you, is a very long way from Bath!" he cried.
"Give forth the 'Angels' as if you meant to storm the ears of heaven
with your cry. Think of it, girl--think that you are lost, eternally
lost, unless you can obtain help that is not of earth. Stun their ears,
madam, with the suddenness of your imploration, and let the voice come
from your heart. Betsy, that smile is not in the music. If Maestro
Handel had meant a smile to illuminate the part, take my word for it
he would have signified it by a bar of demi-semi-quavers, followed by
semi-quavers and quavers. Good heavens, madam! do you hope to improve
upon Handel?"

"Ah, father, do not ask too much of me to-night; I am tired--anxious.
Why, only last week a highwayman----"

Miss Linley glanced, eagerly listening, toward the window, as if she
fully expected to see the mask of a highwayman peering between the
blinds.

"Betsy, I am ashamed of you!" said her father. "What stuff is this? Is
there any highwayman fool enough to collect fiddles? Do you fancy that
a boy with a fiddle tucked under his arm is in any peril of a bullet?"

"But they may affright the child."

"Child? Child? Who is the child? What! Do you think that because you
have not seen your brother since he was fourteen, the four years that
have passed can have made no impression on him?"

"I suppose he will have grown."

"You may be sure that he will be able to defend himself without drawing
either his sword or his fiddle. To your singing, Betsy. Go back to the
recitative."

"It would be a terrible thing to find that he had outgrown his
affection for us. I have heard that in Italy----"

"Still harping on my daughter's brother! Come, Miss Linnet, you shall
have your chance. You shall fancy that your prayer is uttered on behalf
of your brother.

    'Angels, ever bright and fair,
    Take, oh, take _him_ to your care.'

Now shall the angels hear for certain. Come, child; one, two----"

    "'Angels----'"

sang Miss Linley.

"Brava!" cried her father _sotto voce_, as the sound thrilled through
the room and there was a suggestion of an answering vibration from the
voice of the harpsichord.

    "'Angels, ever bright and fair,
    Take, oh, take me----'"

The harpsichord jingled alone. The girl