to face with the girl.
"I had no idea you were there," he said. "Hermann will do, won't he? Ithink--"
And then suddenly the words of commonplace failed him, and he looked ather in silence.
"I knew you were back," she said. "Hermann told me about--everything."
Michael glanced sideways, indicating his mother, who sat next him, andwas talking to Barbara.
"I wondered whether perhaps you would come and see my mother and me," hesaid. "May I write?"
She looked at him with the friendliness of her smiling eyes and hergrave mouth.
"Is it necessary to ask?" she said.
Michael turned back to his seat, for his mother had had quite enough ofher sister-in-law, and wanted him again. She looked over her shoulderfor a moment to see whom Michael was talking to.
"I'm enjoying my concert, dear," she said. "And who is that nice younglady? Is she a friend of yours?"
The interval was over, and Hermann returned to the platform, and waitingfor a moment for the buzz of conversation to die down, gave out,without any preliminary excursion on the keys, the text of Michael's"Variations." Then he began to tell them, with light and flying fingers,what that simple tune had suggested to Michael, how he imagined himselflooking on at an old-fashioned dance, and while the dancers moved tothe graceful measure of a minuet, or daintily in a gavotte, the tune of"Good King Wenceslas" still rang in his head, or, how in the joy ofthe sunlight of a spring morning it still haunted him. It lay behinda cascade of foaming waters that, leaping, roared into a ravine; itmarched with flying banners on some day of victorious entry, it watcheda funeral procession wind by, with tapers and the smell of incense; itheard, as it got nearer back to itself again, the peals of Christmasbells, and stood forth again in its own person, decorated andemblazoned.
Hermann had already captured his audience; now he held them tame in thehollow of his hand. Twice he bowed, and then, in answer to the demand,just beckoned with his finger to Michael, who rose. For a moment hismother wished to detain him.
"You're not going to leave me, my dear, are you?" she asked anxiously.
He waited to explain to her quietly, left her, and, feeling ratherdazed, made his way round to the back and saw the open door on to theplatform confronting him. He felt that no power on earth could make himstep into the naked publicity there, but at the moment Hermann appearedin the doorway.
"Come on, Mike," he said, laughing. "Thank the pretty ladies andgentlemen! Lord, isn't it all a lark!"
Michael advanced with him, stared and hoped he smiled properly, thoughhe felt that he was nailing some hideous grimace to his face; and thenjust below him he saw his mother eagerly pointing him out to a totalstranger, with gesticulation, and just behind her Sylvia looking at her,and not at him, with such tenderness, such kindly pity. There were thetwo most intimately bound into his life, the mother who wanted him, thegirl whom he wanted; and by his side was Hermann, who, as Michael alwaysknew, had thrown open the gates of life to him. All the rest, evenincluding Aunt Barbara, seemed of no significance in that moment.Afterwards, no doubt, he would be glad they were pleased, be proud ofhaving pleased them; but just now, even when, for the first time in hislife, that intoxicating wine of appreciation was given him, he stoodwith it bubbling and yellow in his hand, not drinking of it.
Michael had prepared the way of Sylvia's coming by telling his motherthe identity of the "nice young lady" at the concert; he had alsoimpressed on her the paramount importance of not saying anything withregard to him that could possibly embarrass the nice young lady, andwhen Sylvia came to tea a few days later, he was quite without anyuneasiness, while for himself he was only conscious of that thirst forher physical presence, the desire, as he had said to Aunt Barbara, "justto see her." Nor was there the slightest embarrassment in their meeting!it was clear that there was not the least difficulty either for himor her in being natural, which, as usually happens, was the completesolution.
"That is good of you to come," he said, meeting her almost at the door."My mother has been looking forward to your visit. Mother dear, here isMiss Falbe."
Lady Ashbridge was pathetically eager to be what she called "good."Michael had made it clear to her that it was his wish that Miss Falbeshould not be embarrassed, and any wish just now expressed by Michaelwas of the nature of a divine command to her.
"Well, this is a pleasure," she said, looking across to Michael with theeyes of a dog on a beloved master. "And we are not strangers quite, arewe, Miss Falbe? We sat so near each other to listen to your brother, whoI am sure plays beautifully, and the music which Michael made. Haven't Igot a clever son, and such a good one?"
Sylvia was unerring. Michael had known she would be.
"Indeed, you have," she said, sitting down by her. "And Michael mustn'thear what we say about him, must he, or he'll be getting conceited."
Lady Ashbridge laughed.
"And that would never do, would it?" she said, still retaining Sylvia'shand. Then a little dim ripple of compunction broke in her mind."Michael," she said, "we are only joking about your getting conceited.Miss Falbe and I are only joking. And--and won't you take off your hat,Miss Falbe, for you are not going to hurry away, are you? You are goingto pay us a long visit."
Michael had not time to remind his mother that ladies who come to teado not usually take their hats off, for on the word Sylvia's hands werebusy with her hatpins.
"I'm so glad you suggested that," she said. "I always want to take myhat off. I don't know who invented hats, but I wish he hadn't."
Lady Ashbridge looked at her masses of bright hair, and could not helptelegraphing a note of admiration, as it were, to Michael.
"Now, that's more comfortable," she said. "You look as if you weren'tgoing away next minute. When I like to see people, I hate their goingaway. I'm afraid sometimes that Michael will go away, but he tells me hewon't. And you liked Michael's music, Miss Falbe? Was it not clever ofhim to think of all that out of one simple little tune? And he tells meyou sing so nicely. Perhaps you would sing to us when we've had tea. Oh,and here is my sister-in-law. Do you know her--Lady Barbara? My dear,what is your husband's name?"
Seeing Sylvia uncovered, Lady Barbara, with a tact that was creditableto her, but strangely unsuccessful, also began taking off her hat. Hersister-in-law was too polite to interfere, but, as a matter of fact, shedid not take much pleasure in the notion that Barbara was going to staya very long time, too. She was fond of her, but it was not Barbara whomMichael wanted. She turned her attention to the girl again.
"My husband's away," she said, confidentially; "he is very busy down atAshbridge, and I daresay he won't find time to come up to town for manyweeks yet. But, you know, Michael and I do very well without him,very well, indeed, and it would never do to take him away from hisduties--would it, Michael?"
Here was a shoal to be avoided.
"No, you mustn't think of tempting him to come up to town," saidMichael. "Give me some tea for Aunt Barbara."
This answer entranced Lady Ashbridge; she had to nudge Michael severaltimes to show that she understood the brilliance of it, and put lumpafter lump of sugar into Barbara's cup in her rapt appreciation of it.But very soon she turned to Sylvia again.
"And your brother is a friend of Michael's, too, isn't he?" she said."Some day perhaps he will come to see me. We don't see many people,Michael and I, for we find ourselves very well content alone. Butperhaps some day he will come and play his concert over again to us; andthen, perhaps, if you ask me, I will sing to you. I used to sing a greatdeal when I was younger. Michael--where has Michael gone?"
Michael had just left the room to bring some cigarettes in from nextdoor, and Lady Ashbridge ran after him, calling him. She found him inthe hall, and brought him back triumphantly.
"Now we will all sit and talk for a long time," she said. "You one sideof me, Miss Falbe, and Michael the other. Or would you be so kind as tosing for us? Michael will play for you, and would it annoy you if I cameand turned over the pages? It would give
me a great deal of pleasure toturn over for you, if you will just nod each time when you are ready."
Sylvia got up.
"Why, of course," she said. "What have you got, Michael? I haven'tanything with me."
Michael found a volume of Schubert, and once again, as on the first timehe had seen her, she sang "Who is Sylvia?" while he played, and LadyAshbridge had her eyes fixed now on one and now on the other of them,waiting for their nod to do her part; and then she wanted to singherself, and with some far-off remembrance of the airs and graces oftwenty-five years ago, she put her handkerchief and her rings on