CHAPTER XLVI
A NEW STAR
To that city, surfeited with pleasure, a new sensation had come, andwhile Winn Hardy was aimlessly gathering news items, too disconsolate toread the amusement notes even, and caring not at all what happened instage-land, it was slowly spreading. A little ripple at first, when thefew who could appreciate the exquisite nature of Mona's simple music,heard her to go away charmed and come again, the while telling all whomthey knew of it, until the "Alhambra" was packed each night and "Mlle.Mona in Scotch Melodies," as the sign that flanked either side of thestage read, was all the rage. Then the papers picked it up and themusical critics exhausted their vocabularies about her. They extolledher pose, expression, and inflection; they went into raptures overtechnique, time, and timbre; they lauded her classic profile, her arm,her throat, her eyes; while Mona, unmindful of all their clatter, forgotherself each night as she threw her very heart and soul into herplaying.
And Fritz grew mad with love!
She practised still, hours each day on new and classic music; heinsisted that she should, and when some soulless sonata, some deliriouscomposition full of leaps and quivers and trills was learned, sheexecuted it at night.
But it was the simple and sweet old songs of Bonnie Scotland that wonapplause.
And when, as happened almost nightly, some admirer gave a basket orbouquet of costly flowers to an usher to be passed up over thefootlights to her, they were usually tied with tartan ribbon.
And the little German teacher had almost lost his reason.
Twice he had been on his knees before her, and with hand on heart and inbroken English, disclosed his love for "Mein Fraulein Liebchen."
But Mona only shook her head.
He wept, he raved, he smote his breast, and would have kissed the shoesshe wore, if she would have but stood still and allowed it.
There were others who sent her notes tucked in baskets of flowers, theybegged for an interview, for just one word of reply. They covered pageswith wild declarations of love, they sent her costly jewels tied to lovemissives, in the vain hope of an answer, and gathered at the stage doorto see her pass in and out. But Jess, like an old watch dog, was alwayson guard. He went with her to the "Alhambra" each night and waited untilshe had "done her turn," and after she had changed her garb, helped herinto a carriage and rode home with her.
He well might care for her, for each week the manager paid for her "act"what would have been regarded on Rockhaven as a small fortune, andconsidered it cheap at that price.
And Mona, growing accustomed now to the sea of faces she had oncefeared, watched them covertly each evening, hoping and yet dreading tocatch sight of a certain one among them.
It was all a new wonder world, a strange, sweet intoxication, and like adream to her. She rejoiced in her power, conscious, as well she mightbe, how she could sway the thousands to wild applause and some to tears.And when it was all over and she away from the scene of her triumph eachtime, she wondered if _he_ had made one in that audience. And what wouldhe say and think, if he was? And what would he do? Had he quiteforgotten the simple child who amused him one summer, or would he seekher out?
And when she thought of how like a silly girl she had raised her lipsto him at the moment of parting, and the tears she had shed, her faceburned.
Then pride came forth, and she felt that, if he ever did seek her again,he would have to beg forgiveness on his knees, protesting even as Fritzhad, before she would extend a hand even. For Mona was growing proud andconscious of her own power at this time.
The weeks during which she had nightly reigned as a queen overthousands, the storms of applause she had heard when bowing and smilingbefore them, and all the flatteries of flowers and words that had beenshowered upon her, had wrought its inevitable change. Only to Uncle Jesswas she the same. And he?
Well, never in his life had so much happiness come as now. He seemed togrow younger each day, for in the new joy that had come to Mona he foundhis own. Then, too, a change came to Mona's mother. No longer did sheconsider "fiddlin' a man's business," and frown at her child. In theirtemporary home that daughter ruled supreme, her every wish gratified,her every whim considered just right.
"We'll go back 'n' visit the island fer a spell," Jess said, when theseason at the "Alhambra" was nearing its close; "an' then we'll take ye'round, girlie, an' let ye see the world. I kin 'ford it now, 'n' thebest is none too good fer ye."
But the current of Fate twists and turns us at will, while adown thestream of life we float, and sometimes we drift into smooth waters andagain we are dashed against the rocks. With our will or against ourwill, no matter, we are swept on.
And a Power quite beyond our ken is ever in control.
And one evening, despondent, aimless, and feeling life a hopeless fightand Fate against him, Winn Hardy drifted into the "Alhambra."
No knowledge of the star that nightly blazed there had reached him, andif he had read of her, it was as of others who were noticed by the pressand unknown to him. He came in, as he entered other theatres, on areporter's pass, privileged to take a seat if not occupied, or elsestand. In this case, it seemed the latter, for the house was packed anda fringe of men circled the foyer. The boxes were also filled; and asWinn glanced across to them, there in one, dressed in evening gown, herarms and shoulders bare, and slowly fanning herself, sat Ethel Sherman.And with her--Simmons!
It was nothing to Winn, of course, and yet it awoke disgust.
The usual vaudeville acts were on in turn, and Winn, somewhat weary withlife, and watching one particular box more than the stage, was about toleave when suddenly a wild burst of applause swept over the house, andthere, just tripping on to the stage, bowing and smiling as she camewas--Mona!
For one instant his heart stopped beating.
Great Heavens, could it be possible, or was this some insane dream! Hegasped for breath.
The house seemed to twist and turn.
And then, as he leaned against a pillar to steady himself, a hush came.
And what a picture stood before him!
Not the half-developed, ill-clad girl who had sat with him in the cave!Not the timid child with wondering eyes, looking up to him as a superiorbeing! Not the gentle Mona, the sweet flower, awaiting his hand. Oh, no!
Instead, a proud and beautiful woman, erect and smiling, with consciouspower. A stately creature with rounded arms, dimpled throat, and perfectshoulders like marble, emerging from the soft white silk that trailedupon the stage. And in the crowning coils of hair, black as night, asingle pink rosebud, half open, and in her hand the same old brownviolin!
Then bowing to right and left, as she swept that vast audience with hereyes, while the storm of applause continued, she raised it to her chin.
Not a breath, not a whisper now, as the matchless voice of her musicrippled forth, tinkling like tiny bells on a mountain side, murmuringlike a brook in forest stillness, sweet as a bird singing in thesunlight.
And when she had held that vast throng spellbound, entranced,breathless, until the last exquisite note had vibrated in their hearts,and bowed again once more, a tornado of sound burst forth. While theycheered and shouted, adown each aisle ushers hurried with costly flowersand wreaths, and baskets and bunches of them were tossed upon the stagelike so many leaves.
Then Winn saw Ethel Sherman rise in her box and throw the great bunch oforchids she had held into the pile at Mona's feet.
And then that queen in white raised her violin once more. And onceagain, as many times before, the old love song that has thrilled theworld for centuries carried Winn's heart back to the cave on Rockhavenand the twilight hour when its voice of undying love had mingled withthe ocean requiem.
Lost was he now to the time and place and that spellbound audience; lostto the burst of applause that again shook the very building, to the menwho cheered, the women who wept. Lost to all and everything except hisown heartache.
And as he brushed his eyes free from the mist that had gathered, andturned
away, it was in utter despondency and humiliation, believing hislove hopeless now, and forgiveness from Mona impossible.
The next morning, reading the double-leaded headlines announcing thefarewell appearance of this peerless queen of melody and the columns offulsome praise that followed, only increased that feeling. Her laurelshad been won, her crown secured, and now his love would be a worthlesstoy in her estimation.
All that was left was to see her, if he could, and beg her forgiveness.
But even this was denied him.
"I'm a friend of Miss Hutton's," he said to the "Alhambra" manager earlythat day, "and I wish to obtain her address."
"I've no doubt of it," replied the man, in a sneering tone; "lots of heradmirers have wanted it, and kept on wanting it for all me."
"But I am a friend of hers," persisted Winn, his ire rising, "and I wishto see her."
"Well, go hunt for her," came the insolent answer. "She's in the city;but her address is her private property, and you don't learn it fromme." And he turned away.
And Winn did likewise, too angry for further parley.
And that night, impelled a little by penitence and more by despondency,he called on Ethel Sherman.
"How did you enjoy Scotch melodies last evening?" he said gently, notwishing to seem inquisitive; "I saw you in a box at the 'Alhambra.'"
"Enjoy hardly expresses it," she answered earnestly; "I was spellbound,enraptured, and moved to tears. It was silly, I know, but I couldn'thelp it. Did you see me throw my flowers at the girl?"
"I did," he replied, his heart throbbing; "and you were not alone inyour enthusiasm. She seemed to carry the house by storm. It was herfarewell appearance, I noticed by the papers this morning."
He was trying to speak indifferently, but it was not easy.
"I am sorry," she responded, eyeing him keenly; "I've heard her fivetimes in the past two weeks, and yesterday learned she was fromRockhaven. Did you ever hear her before?"
Then Winn knew that his secret was a secret no longer.
"I have," he admitted modestly; "she is the niece of Jess Hutton."
"And it was to see her that you went to the island two weeks ago,"pursued Ethel, smiling; "I thought as much then."
For a moment she tapped the carpet with one dainty slipper, while herlips were pressed tightly together, and then she continued:--
"I knew last summer," she said, in a cool and even voice, "that you hadleft your heart on the island when you came back. Permit me tocongratulate you. The girl is a marvel."
"It is very kind of you to say so," he responded dejectedly, "butuseless. I didn't find her when I went there, and it's all over betweenus, I presume."
Then Ethel laughed, but it was unnatural, and like the rattle of drybones. "Not a bit of it," she said briskly; "women with such eyes ashers do not unlearn the lesson of love easily. You may have to begforgiveness for your neglect on your knees, but you will receive it. Itis such souls as hers that give the lie to all our worldly philosophy."
"Have you such a one?" he queried thoughtlessly.
Her eyes flashed.
"No," she answered bitterly; "no one ever accused me of such folly. Ihave no heart, and am for sale to the highest bidder."
"I beg your pardon, Ethel," he said humbly, "I was only thinking of thelong ago, and forgot what I was then."
"You need not," she replied, turning away. "I only am to blame, but--ithurt--from you."
Then, covering her eyes with one hand, she added slowly, as if the wordscame hard: "It's all past and gone, Winn, but--but I did not know myselfthen, and now it's too late. God help me!"
At the door she laid a detaining hand on his arm.
"I wish you well," she said, with a quiver in her voice; "I wish you allthat's best and holiest in life. Go to your island girl, and at once.She is worthy of you, and you of her. We have been good friends, and Ihope always will be. Love is only an illusion, but friendship endless.And now, good-by, and God bless you!"
And Winn, going out into the night, knew that the proud girl was reapingthe pain she had sown.
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