CHAPTER XII
SARAH MAKES AN IMPRESSION
"What a shame!" said Flossie, when she heard of the invitation. "Justlike the nasty old thing, to remember an accident that I couldn't help.Not that I care! I shall enjoy myself far better at home"; and Flossiecaught hold of Minnie's arm, and stalked along the Parade as if shecared so little that she did not want to hear any more about that greatlady, her Aunt George.
"What did you think of her?" May asked of Sarah.
"Is she very ill?" Sarah asked, thinking of the bath-chair and heraunt's languid wrists and tones.
"Ill?--no! Ma says she's a hy-po-chon-driac," returned May, pronouncingthe long word in syllables. "That's fancying yourself ill when youain't. See? But all the same, Aunt George is very stylish."
"She's not half so nice as Auntie," Sarah flashed out.
"No, she isn't! But she's a great deal stylisher than Ma is," Mayreturned. "Didn't you hear the way she told the man to go on?'Go-on-Chawles!'" and May leant back on the seat, slightly waved alanguid hand, flickered her drooping eyelids, and gave a half-languid,half-supercilious smile.
It was a fine imitation of Mrs. George's _stylish_ airs, and Sarah waslost in admiration of it.
"I wonder," she remarked presently, after thinking the question over, "Iwonder if she eats her dinner like that; because, if she does, it mustgenerally get cold before she has half finished it."
"Oh, Aunt's much too stylish to eat much," May explained. "She nibblesat this and picks at that. You'll see to-night."
And Sarah did see--saw that, in spite of her airs and her nibbling andher picking, Mrs. George contrived to put a good meal out ofsight--quite as much as ever her sister-in-law could manage to do. Thatevening was also a new experience to Sarah; it was so much more statelythan anything she had seen before.
Mr. and Mrs. George Stubbs lived in a very large house in a large squarein the best part of Brighton. A resplendent footman received them whenthey got out of the cab--yes, they had a cab, though it was only a shortway from their own house--and a solemn butler ushered them into Mrs.George's presence. She wore a tea-gown of soft yellow silk, with a veryvoluminous trailing skirt, and showers of white lace and broad yellowribbons about it. It was a garment that suited the languid air, thequivering eye-lids, the weak wrists, and the soft, drawling voice toperfection.
The resplendent footman had relieved Sarah of her violin-case andcarried it upstairs for her. Mrs. George motioned to it as he announcedher visitors. "With great care, Chawles," and "Chawles" put it down on achair beside the inlaid grand piano as if it were a baby and mightsqueal.
"With great care, Chawles."]
"How are you, dears?" Mrs. George said, giving each a limp and languidhand. "How oppressive the evening is!" Then to "Chawles," "Let tea beserved."
Very soon tea was announced, and they went downstairs. It was all newto Sarah--the large, spacious dining-room, with its rich, costlyart-furniture; the pretty round table, with flowers and pretty-colouredglasses, with quaint little figures holding trays of sweets orpreserves, or wheeling barrows of tiny ferns or miniature palms.
And the board was well-spread, too. There was salmon, salad, and aboiled chicken covered with white, frothy sauce. There was an aspicjelly, with eggs and green peas, and certain dark things which May toldher afterwards were truffles; and there were several kinds of sweetdishes, and more than one kind of wine.
To Sarah it was a resplendent feast--as resplendent as the gorgeousfootman who stood midway between her chair and May's, only a little inthe rear; the solemn butler keeping guard over his mistress, whom heserved first, as if she had been a royal queen.
"Now you shall play to me," Mrs. George said to Sarah, when they had gotback to the drawing-room again.
Sarah rose obediently
"What shall I play?" she asked.
"What _can_ you play?" Mrs. George asked, in reply.
"Oh, a great many things," Sarah said modestly.
"Let Sarah play what she fancies," put in May, who had establishedherself in a low, lounging chair, and was fanning herself with a fan shehad found on a table at hand with the closest imitation of Mrs. Georgeshe could manage; "she always plays the best then."
"Very well," Mrs. George said graciously. So Sarah began.
She felt that in all her life before she had never played as she playedthen. The influence of the luxurious meal of which they had justpartaken was upon her. The exquisite coloured glass, the sweet-scentedflowers, the smell of the fragrant coffee, the stately servants movingsoftly about with quiet footsteps and smooth gestures, each and all hadmade her feel calm and peaceful; and now the soft-toned drawing-room,with its plush and lace hangings, its delicate china, its Indianembroideries, and those two quiet figures lying back in the half light,making no movement except the slow waving to and fro of their fans,completed the influence. It was all food to Sarah's artistic soul, andshe made the Amati speak for her all that was passing through her mind.Mrs. George was spell-bound. She actually forgot to fan herself in thedesire not to miss a single note. Nay, she did more, she forgot to belanguid, and sat bolt upright in her chair, her head moving to and froin time with Sarah's music.
"Why, child, you are a genius!" she exclaimed, as Sarah came to a closeand turned her speaking eyes upon her for comment.
"That's just what Papa said," put in May, adjusting her language to hercompany.
"If you go on--if you work," Mrs. George continued, "your violin will beyour fortune. You will be a great woman some day."
Sarah's great eyes blazed at the thought of it; her heart began to beathard and fast.
"Do you really think so, Aunt George?" she asked.
"I really do. I am sure of it. But, child, your violin seems to me avery good one. Where did you get it?"
"Father gave it to me; it was his grandfather's," said Sarah, holding itout for inspection. "It is an Amati."
"It is worth five hundred pounds," said May, who was eminentlypractical, and measured most things by a pounds, shillings, and pencestandard.
"Of course--if it is an Amati," murmured Mrs. George, becoming languidagain. "But go on, my child. I should like a little more."
So Sarah played and played until the room grew darker and darker, andgradually the shadows deepened, until it was only by the lamps from thesquare that she could distinguish the outlines of the figure in theyellow sweeping robes.
It was like a shock when the door was gently opened and the footman camein, bearing a huge lamp with a crimson shade. Then the coffee followed,and before very long one of the servants came back, and said that thecab for the young ladies had come.
"You have given me great pleasure," said Mrs. George to Sarah; "and whenMrs. Stubbs comes back I must make an afternoon party, and Sarah shallplay at it. I have not been so pleased for a long time." And then shekissed them both, and with "good-night" they left her.
"Won't Ma be pleased!" remarked May, with great satisfaction, as theydrove along the Parade. "I shan't mind a bit her being vexed thatFlossie wasn't asked. Really, Sarah, I never saw Aunt George so excitedbefore. She's generally so die-away and all that."
But Sarah was hardly listening, and not heeding at all. With herprecious Amati on her knee, she was looking away over the moonlit sea,thinking of what her aunt had said to her. "If you go on--if youwork--your violin will be your fortune. You will be a great woman."
"I will go on; I will work," she said to herself. "If I can be a greatwoman, I will."