CHAPTER VII
GARTH FINDS HIS ROSARY
Jane spent but a very few minutes in the drawing-room that evening. Thefun in progress there was not to her taste, and the praises heaped uponherself annoyed her. Also she wanted the quiet of her own room in orderto think over that closing episode of the concert, which had takenplace between herself and Garth, behind the scenes. She did not feelcertain how to take it. She was conscious that it held an element whichshe could not fathom, and Garth's last act had awakened in herselffeelings which she did not understand. She extremely disliked the wayin which he had kissed her hands; and yet he had put into the actionsuch a passion of reverent worship that it gave her a sense ofconsecration--of being, as it were, set apart to minister always to thehearts of men in that perfect gift of melody which should uplift andennoble. She could not lose the sensation of the impress of his lipsupon the palms of her hands. It was as if he had left behind somethingtangible and abiding. She caught herself looking at them anxiously onceor twice, and the third time this happened she determined to go to herroom.
The duchess was at the piano, completely hidden from view by nearly thewhole of her house party, crowding round in fits of delighted laughter.Ronnie had just broken through from the inmost circle to fetch anantimacassar; and Billy, to dash to the writing-table for a sheet ofnote-paper. Jane knew the note-paper meant a clerical dog collar, andshe concluded something had been worn which resembled an antimacassar.
She turned rather wearily and moved towards the door. Quiet andunobserved though her retreat had been, Garth was at the door beforeher. She did not know how he got there; for, as she turned to leave theroom, she had seen his sleek head close to Myra Ingleby's on thefurther side of the duchess's crowd. He opened the door and Jane passedout. She felt equally desirous of saying two things to him,--either:"How dared you behave in so unconventional a way?" or: "Tell me justwhat you want me to do, and I will do it."
She said neither.
Garth followed her into the hall, lighted a candle, and threw the matchat Tommy; then handed her the silver candlestick. He was lookingabsurdly happy. Jane felt annoyed with him for parading this gladness,which she had unwittingly caused and in which she had no share. Alsoshe felt she must break this intimate silence. It was saying so muchwhich ought not to be said, since it could not be spoken. She took hercandle rather aggressively and turned upon the second step.
"Good-night, Dal," she said. "And do you know that you are missing thecurate?"
He looked up at her. His eyes shone in the light of her candle.
"No," he said. "I am neither missing nor missed. I was only waiting inthere until you went up. I shall not go back. I am going out into thepark now to breathe in the refreshing coolness of the night breeze. AndI am going to stand under the oaks and tell my beads. I did not know Ihad a rosary, until to-night, but I have--I have!"
"I should say you have a dozen," remarked Jane, dryly.
"Then you would be wrong," replied Garth. "I have just one. But it hasmany hours. I shall be able to call them all to mind when I get outthere alone. I am going to 'count each pearl.'"
"How about the cross?" asked Jane.
"I have not reached that yet," answered Garth. "There is no cross to myrosary."
"I fear there is a cross to every true rosary, Dal," said Jane gently,"and I also fear it will go hard with you when you find yours."
But Garth was confident and unafraid.
"When I find mine," he said, "I hope I shall be able to"--Involuntarily Jane looked at her hands. He saw the look and smiled,though he had the grace to colour beneath his tan,--"to FACE thecross," he said.
Jane turned and began to mount the stairs; but Garth arrested her withan eager question.
"Just one moment, Miss Champion! There is something I want to ask you.May I? Will you think me impertinent, presuming, inquisitive?"
"I have no doubt I shall," said Jane. "But I am thinking you all sortsof unusual things to-night; so three adjectives more or less will notmatter much. You may ask."
"Miss Champion, have YOU a rosary?"
Jane looked at him blankly; then suddenly understood the drift of hisquestion.
"My dear boy, NO!" she said. "Thank goodness, I have kept clear of'memories that bless and burn.' None of these things enter into myrational and well-ordered life, and I have no wish that they should."
"Then," deliberated Garth, "how came you to sing THE ROSARY as if eachline were your own experience; each joy or pain a thing--long passed,perhaps--but your own?"
"Because," explained Jane, "I always live in a song when I sing it. DidI not tell you the lesson I learned over the CHANT HINDOU? Therefore Ihad a rosary undoubtedly when I was singing that song to-night. But,apart from that, in the sense you mean, no, thank goodness, I havenone."
Garth mounted two steps, bringing his eyes on a level with thecandlestick.
"But IF you cared," he said, speaking very low, "that is how you wouldcare? that is as you would feel?"
Jane considered. "Yes," she said, "IF I cared, I suppose I should carejust so, and feel as I felt during those few minutes."
"Then it was YOU in the song, although the circumstances are not yours?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Jane replied, "if we can consider ourselves apartfrom our circumstances. But surely this is rather an unprofitable'air-ball.' Goodnight, 'Master Garthie!'"
"I say, Miss Champion! Just one thing more. Will you sing for meto-morrow? Will you come to the music-room and sing all the lovelythings I want to hear? And will you let me play a few of youraccompaniments? Ah, promise you will come. And promise to sing whateverI ask, and I won't bother you any more now."
He stood looking up at her, waiting for her promise, with suchadoration shining in his eyes that Jane was startled and more than alittle troubled. Then suddenly it seemed to her that she had found thekey, and she hastened to explain it to herself and to him.
"Oh, you dear boy!" she said. "What an artist you are! And howdifficult it is for us commonplace, matter-of-fact people to understandthe artistic temperament. Here you go, almost turning my steady oldhead by your rapture over what seemed to you perfection of sound whichhas reached you through the ear; just as, again and again, you worshipat the shrine of perfection of form, which reaches you through the eye.I begin to understand how it is you turn the heads of women when youpaint them. However, you are very delightful in your delight, and Iwant to go up to bed. So I promise to sing all you want and as much asyou wish to-morrow. Now keep your promise and don't bother me any moreto-night. Don't spend the whole night in the park, and try not tofrighten the deer. No, I do not need any assistance with my candle, andI am quite used to going upstairs by myself, thank you. Can't you hearwhat personal and appropriate remarks Tommy is making down there? Nowdo run away, Master Garthie, and count your pearls. And if you suddenlycome upon a cross--remember, the cross can, in all probability, bepersuaded to return to Chicago!"
Jane was still smiling as she entered her room and placed hercandlestick on the dressing-table.
Overdene was lighted solely by lamps and candles. The duchess refusedto modernise it by the installation of electric light. But candlesabounded, and Jane, who liked a brilliant illumination, proceeded tolight both candles in the branches on either side of the dressing-tablemirror, and in the sconces on the wall beside the mantelpiece, and inthe tall silver candlesticks upon the writing-table. Then she seatedherself in a comfortable arm-chair, reached for her writing-case, tookout her diary and a fountain pen, and prepared to finish the day'sentry. She wrote, "SANG 'THE ROSARY' AT AUNT 'GINA'S CONCERT IN PLACEOF VELMA, FAILED (LARYNGITIS)," and came to a full stop.
Somehow the scene with Garth was difficult to record, and thesensations which still remained therefrom, absolutely unwritable. Janesat and pondered the situation, content to allow the page to remainblank.
Before she rose, locked her book, and prepared for rest, she had, toher own satisfaction, clearly explained the whole thing. Garth'sartistic temperament
was the basis of the argument; and, alas, theartistic temperament is not a very firm foundation, either for atheory, or for the fabric of a destiny. However, FAUTE DE MIEUX, Janehad to accept it as main factor in her mental adjustment, thus: Thisvibrant emotion in Garth, so strangely disturbing to her own solidcalm, was in no sense personal to herself, excepting in so far as hervoice and musical gifts were concerned. Just as the sight of paintablebeauty crazed him with delight, making him wild with alternate hope anddespair until he obtained his wish and had his canvas and his sitterarranged to his liking; so now, his passion for the beautiful had beenawakened, this time through the medium, not of sight, but of sound.When she had given him his fill of song, and allowed him to play someof her accompaniments, he would be content, and that disquieting lookof adoration would pass from those beautiful brown eyes. Meanwhile itwas pleasant to look forward to to-morrow, though it behooved her toremember that all this admiration had in it nothing personal toherself. He would have gone into even greater raptures over MadameBlanche, for instance, who had the same timbre of voice and method ofsinging, combined with a beauty of person which delighted the eye thewhile her voice enchanted the ear. Certainly Garth must see and hearher, as music appeared to mean so much to him. Jane began planningthis, and then her mind turned to Pauline Lister, the lovely Americangirl, whose name had been coupled with Garth Dalmain's all the season.Jane felt certain she was just the wife he needed. Her loveliness wouldcontent him, her shrewd common-sense and straightforward, practicalways would counterbalance his somewhat erratic temperament, and heradaptability would enable her to suit herself to his surroundings, bothin his northern home and amongst his large circle of friends downsouth. Once married, he would give up raving about Flower and Myra, andkissing people's hands in that--"absurd way," Jane was going to say,but she was invariably truthful, even in her thoughts, and substituted"extraordinary" as the more correct adjective--in that extraordinaryway.
She sat forward in her chair with her elbows on her knees, and held herlarge hands before her, palms upward, realising again the sensations ofthat moment. Then she pulled herself up sharply. "Jane Champion, don'tbe a fool! You would wrong that dear, beauty-loving boy, more than youwould wrong yourself, if you took him for one moment seriously. Hishomage to-night was no more personal to you than his appreciation ofthe excellent dinner was personal to Aunt Georgina's chef. In hisenjoyment of the production, the producer was included; but that wasall. Be gratified at the success of your art, and do not spoil thatsuccess by any absurd sentimentality. Now wash your very ungainly handsand go to bed." Thus Jane to herself.
* * * * *
And under the oaks, with soft turf beneath his feet, stood GarthDalmain, the shy deer sleeping around unconscious of his presence; theplanets above, hanging like lamps in the deep purple of the sky. Andhe, also, soliloquised.
"I have found her," he said, in low tones of rapture, "the ideal woman,the crown of womanhood, the perfect mate for the spirit, soul, and bodyof the man who can win her.--Jane! Jane! Ah, how blind I have been! Tohave known her for years, and yet not realised her to be this. But shelifted the veil, and I passed in. Ah grand, noble heart! She will neverbe able to draw the veil again between her soul and mine. And she hasno rosary. I thank God for that. No other man possesses, or has everpossessed, that which I desire more than I ever desired anything uponthis earth, Jane's love, Jane's tenderness. Ah, what will it mean? 'Icount each pearl.' She WILL count them some day--her pearls and mine.God spare us the cross. Must there be a cross to every true rosary?Then God give me the heavy end, and may the mutual bearing of it bindus together. Ah, those dear hands! Ah, those true steadfast eyes! ...Jane!--Jane! Surely it has always been Jane, though I did not know it,blind fool that I have been! But one thing I know: whereas I was blind,now I see. And it will always be Jane from this night onward throughtime and-please God--into eternity."
The night breeze stirred his thick dark hair, and his eyes, as heraised them, shone in the starlight.
* * * * *
And Jane, almost asleep, was roused by the tapping of her blind againstthe casement, and murmured "Anything you wish, Garth, just tell me, andI will do it." Then awakening suddenly to the consciousness of what shehad said, she sat up in the darkness and scolded herself furiously."Oh, you middle-aged donkey! You call yourself staid and sensible, anda little flattery from a boy of whom you are fond turns your headcompletely. Come to your senses at once; or leave Overdene by the firsttrain in the morning."
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