CHAPTER VI
THE VEIL IS LIFTED
"MISS CHAMPION! Oh, here you are! Your turn next, please. The last itemof the local programme is in course of performance, after which theduchess explains Velma's laryngitis--let us hope she will not call it'appendicitis'--and then I usher you up. Are you ready?"
Garth Dalmain, as master of ceremonies, had sought Jane Champion on theterrace, and stood before her in the soft light of the hanging Chineselanterns. The crimson rambler in his button-hole, and his red silksocks, which matched it, lent an artistic touch of colour to theconventional black and white of his evening clothes.
Jane looked up from the comfortable depths of her wicker chair; thensmiled at his anxious face.
"I am ready," she said, and rising, walked beside him. "Has it gonewell?" she asked. "Is it a good audience?"
"Packed," replied Garth, "and the duchess has enjoyed herself. It hasbeen funnier than usual. But now comes the event of the evening. I say,where is your score?"
"Thanks," said Jane. "I shall play it from memory. It obviates thebother of turning over."
They passed into the concert-room and stood behind screens and acurtain, close to the half-dozen steps leading, from the side, up on tothe platform.
"Oh, hark to the duchess!" whispered Garth. "My NIECE, JANE CHAMPION,HAS KINDLY CONSENTED TO STEP INTO THE BREACH--' Which means that youwill have to step up on to that platform in another half-minute. Reallyit would be kinder to you if she said less about Velma. But never mind;they are prepared to like anything. There! APPENDICITIS! I told you so.Poor Madame Velma! Let us hope it won't get into the local papers. Oh,goodness! She is going to enlarge on new-fangled diseases. Well, itgives us a moment's breathing space.... I say, Miss Champion, I waschaffing this afternoon about sharps and flats. I can play thataccompaniment for you if you like. No? Well, just as you think best.But remember, it takes a lot of voice to make much effect in thisconcert-room, and the place is crowded. Now--the duchess has done. Comeon. Mind the bottom step. Hang it all! How dark it is behind thiscurtain!"
Garth gave her his hand, and Jane mounted the steps and passed intoview of the large audience assembled in the Overdene concert-room. Hertall figure seemed taller than usual as she walked alone across therather high platform. She wore a black evening gown of soft material,with old lace at her bosom and one string of pearls round her neck.When she appeared, the audience gazed at her and applauded doubtfully.Velma's name on the programme had raised great expectations; and herewas Miss Champion, who certainly played very nicely, but was notsupposed to be able to sing, volunteering to sing Velma's song. A morekindly audience would have cheered her to the echo, voicing itsgenerous appreciation of her effort, and sanguine expectation of hersuccess. This audience expressed its astonishment, in the dubiousnessof its faint applause.
Jane smiled at them good-naturedly; sat down at the piano, a Bechsteingrand; glanced at the festoons of white roses and the cross of crimsonramblers; then, without further preliminaries, struck the opening chordand commenced to sing.
The deep, perfect voice thrilled through the room.
A sudden breathless hush fell upon the audience.
Each syllable penetrated the silence, borne on a tone so tender and soamazingly sweet, that casual hearts stood still and marvelled at theirown emotion; and those who felt deeply already, responded with a yetdeeper thrill to the magic of that music.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, ev'ry one apart, My rosary,--my rosary."
Softly, thoughtfully, tenderly, the last two words were breathed intothe silence, holding a world of reminiscence--a large-hearted woman'sfaithful remembrance of tender moments in the past.
The listening crowd held its breath. This was not a song. This was thethrobbing of a heart; and it throbbed in tones of such sweetness, thattears started unbidden.
Then the voice, which had rendered the opening lines so quietly, rosein a rapid crescendo of quivering pain.
"Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, To still a heart in absence wrung; I tell each bead unto the end, and there-- A cross is hung!"
The last four words were given with a sudden power and passion whichelectrified the assembly. In the pause which followed, could be heardthe tension of feeling produced. But in another moment the quiet voicefell soothingly, expressing a strength of endurance which would fail inno crisis, nor fear to face any depths of pain; yet gathering to itselfa poignancy of sweetness, rendered richer by the discipline ofsuffering.
"O memories that bless and burn! O barren gain and bitter loss! I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn To kiss the cross ... to kiss the cross."
Only those who have heard Jane sing THE ROSARY can possibly realise howshe sang "I KISS EACH BEAD." The lingering retrospection in each word;breathed out a love so womanly, so beautiful, so tender, that heridentity was forgotten--even by those in the audience who knew herbest--in the magic of her rendering of the song.
The accompaniment, which opens with a single chord, closes with asingle note.
Jane struck it softly, lingeringly; then rose, turned from the piano,and was leaving the platform, when a sudden burst of wild applausebroke from the audience. Jane hesitated, paused, looked at her aunt'sguests as if almost surprised to find them there. Then the slow smiledawned in her eyes and passed to her lips. She stood in the centre ofthe platform for a moment, awkwardly, almost shyly; then moved on asmen's voices began to shout "Encore! 'core!" and left the platform bythe side staircase.
But there, behind the scenes, in the semi-darkness of screens andcurtains, a fresh surprise awaited Jane, more startling than theenthusiastic tumult of her audience.
At the foot of the staircase stood Garth Dalmain. His face wasabsolutely colourless, and his eyes shone out from it like burningstars. He remained motionless until she stepped from the last stair andstood close to him. Then with a sudden movement he caught her by theshoulders and turned her round.
"Go back!" he said, and the overmastering need quivering in his voicedrew Jane's eyes to his in mute astonishment. "Go back at once and singit all over again, note for note, word for word, just as before. Ah,don't stand here waiting! Go back now! Go back at once! Don't you knowthat you MUST?"
Jane looked into those shining eyes. Something she saw in them excusedthe brusque command of his tone. Without a word, she quietly mountedthe steps and walked across the platform to the piano. People werestill applauding, and redoubled their demonstrations of delight as sheappeared; but Jane took her seat at the instrument without giving thema thought.
She was experiencing a very curious and unusual sensation. Never beforein her whole life had she obeyed a peremptory command. In herchildhood's days, Fraulein and Miss Jebb soon found out that they couldonly obtain their desires by means of carefully worded requests, orpathetic appeals to her good feelings and sense of right. Anunreasonable order, or a reasonable one unexplained, promptly met witha point-blank refusal. And this characteristic still obtained, thoughmodified by time; and even the duchess, as a rule, said "please" toJane.
But now a young man with a white face and blazing eyes hadunceremoniously swung her round, ordered her up the stairs, andcommanded her to sing a song over again, note for note, word for word,and she was meekly going to obey.
As she took her seat, Jane suddenly made up her mind not to sing TheRosary again. She had many finer songs in her repertoire. The audienceexpected another. Why should she disappoint those expectations becauseof the imperious demands of a very highly excited boy?
She commenced the magnificent prelude to Handel's "Where'er you walk,"but, as she played it, her sense of truth and justice intervened. Shehad not come back to sing again at the bidding of a highly excited boy,but of a deeply moved man; and his emotion was of no ordinary kind.That Garth Dalmain should have been so moved as to forget evenmomentarily his punctilious courtesy of manner, was the highestpossible tribute to her art and to her song. Wh
ile she played theHandel theme--and played it so that a whole orchestra seemed marshalledupon the key-board under those strong, firm finger--she suddenlyrealised, though scarcely understanding it, the MUST of which Garth hadspoken, and made up her mind to yield to its necessity. So; when theopening bars were ended, instead of singing the grand song from Semeleshe paused for a moment; struck once more The Rosary's; opening chord;and did as Garth had bidden her to do.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, ev'ry one apart, My rosary,--my rosary. "Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, To still a heart in absence wrung; I tell each bead unto the end, and there-- A cross is hung! "O memories that bless and burn! O barren gain and bitter loss! I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn To kiss the cross ... to kiss the cross."
When Jane left the platform, Garth was still standing motionless at thefoot of the stairs. His face was just as white as before, but his eyeshad lost that terrible look of unshed tears, which had sent her back,at his bidding, without a word of question or remonstrance. A wonderfullight now shone in them; a light of adoration, which touched Jane'sheart because she had never before seen anything quite like it. Shesmiled as she came slowly down the steps, and held out both hands tohim with an unconscious movement of gracious friendliness. Garthstepped close to the bottom of the staircase and took them in his,while she was still on the step above him.
For a moment he did not speak. Then in a low voice, vibrant withemotion: "My God!" he said, "Oh, my God!"
"Hush," said Jane; "I never like to hear that name spoken lightly, Dal."
"Spoken lightly!" he exclaimed. "No speaking lightly would be possiblefor me to-night. 'Every perfect gift is from above.' When words fail meto speak of the gift, can you wonder if I apostrophise the Giver?"
Jane looked steadily into his shining eyes, and a smile of pleasureillumined her own. "So you liked my song?" she said.
"Liked--liked your song?" repeated Garth, a shade of perplexitycrossing his face. "I do not know whether I liked your song."
"Then why this flattering demonstration?" inquired Jane, laughing.
"Because," said Garth, very low, "you lifted the veil, and I--I passedwithin."
He was still holding her hands in his; and, as he spoke the last twowords, he turned them gently over and, bending, kissed each palm withan indescribably tender reverence; then, loosing them, stood on oneside, and Jane went out on to the terrace alone.
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