"It took my son; now it has
taken one whom I loved as my son."
He sank down upon the piano-stool and gazed at the sheet of music on the
music-rack. It was Kirk's last exercise, written out carefully in the
embossed type that the Maestro had been at such pains to learn and
teach. Something like a sob shook the old musician. He raised clenched,
trembling fists above his head, and brought them down, a shattering
blow, upon the keyboard. Then he sat still, his face buried in his arms
on the shaken piano. Felicia, lying stiff and wide-eyed in the great
bed above, heard the crash of the hideous discord, and shuddered. She
had been trying to remember the stately, comforting words of the prayer
for those in peril on the sea, but now, frightened, she buried her face
in the pillow.
"Oh, dear God," she faltered. "You--You must bring him back--You
_must_!"
CHAPTER XIV
THE _CELESTINE_ PLAYS HER PART
"He's a deader," said one of the men, pulling off his watch-cap.
"No, he ain't," said another. "He's warm."
"But look at his eyes," said the first. "They ain't right."
"Where's the old man?" inquired one.
"Skipper's taking a watch below, arter the fog; don't yer go knockin'
him up now, Joe."
"Wait till the mate comes. Thunder, why don't yer wrop somep'n round the
kid, you loon?"
The big schooner was getting under way again. The mate's voice spoke
sharply to the helmsman.
"Helm up--steady.
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