CHAPTER VI
A Chance Meeting
When afternoon school was over, Mildred, carrying her violin in its neatleather case, set off for No. 50 Basil Street. It was not very far awayfrom St. Cyprian's, so she arrived in good time--too early, in fact, forthe church clock opposite was only chiming a quarter-past four as shepushed open the gate. There was no mistake about the house, for on thedoor was a brass plate inscribed "Professor Franz Hoffmann, Teacher ofMusic", and she could hear from within the halting performance of avioloncellist.
She rang the bell, and after a servant had ushered her in, she was metin the hall by Mrs. Hoffmann, who asked her to come and wait in thedining-room until her teacher should be ready for her. Mrs. Hoffmann wasa thin, worried-looking little woman, most palpably English. She knew nolanguage but her own, and had no desire to acquire any other, regardingGerman as the tongue into which her husband relapsed when more thanusually annoyed, and therefore better to be ignored than understood.Perhaps she wished sometimes that such a thing as music did not exist,since from morning till night the strains of violin or piano seemed toecho through the house. The wearying monotony of scales played byleaden-fingered learners, or the excruciating sounds produced bybeginners on the violin, were, as a rule, punctuated by shouts from theexasperated master, who, being of a naturally excitable disposition, wasliable to let his impatience get the better of him, and would storm athis pupils in a mixture of German and English calculated to reduce themto utter subjection.
"Young Mr. Hardcastle is having his lesson," explained the Professor'swife. "I'm afraid he hasn't come very well prepared," she addednervously, as a specially badly-rendered shake provoked a perfectexplosion of wrath, quite audible through the thin wall. Mildred wasleft alone to wait, so she sat down by the window, listening to theperformance of the pupil in the next room. She groaned as she marked hiswolf notes and his lagging time, fearing that his sins might afterwardsbe visited on her head. She was doubtful about her own concerto, andwished she had had more time to practise one particularly-difficultphrase. She tried to amuse herself by turning over some piles of musicthat lay on the table, or staring aimlessly out at the sparrows in thefront garden.
A smart motor-car stopping at the Professor's gate presently attractedher notice, and she looked on with interest as a handsomely-dressed ladygot out, walked hastily up the path, and rang the bell with a lustypeal. There seemed to be a short colloquy in the hall, then thedining-room door was flung open, and the servant ushered in a stranger,who, it appeared, must also wait until Herr Hoffmann should be atleisure to attend to her. She seated herself in an arm-chair, and forsome minutes there was dead silence, broken only by the ticking of theclock and the rasping notes of Mr. Hardcastle's violoncello.
Probably finding the situation rather oppressive, the lady, afterlooking several times at Mildred, seemed anxious to open a conversation.
"I suppose you're one of Herr Hoffmann's pupils," she began, with aglance at the violin-case which lay on the table. "May I ask if you'velearnt from him for some time?"
"About five years," replied Mildred, wishing the Professor would hurry,for she always felt shy with strangers.
"Indeed! Then you must have begun young. How old were you when you tookyour first lesson?"
"Not quite seven; but I learnt from a lady to begin with," said Mildred,listening to Mrs. Hoffmann's step in the passage, and wondering if shewere coming to the rescue.
"My little girl's much older than that--she's nearly eleven. I'm sureshe ought to commence her lessons at once. I should have sent her toHerr Hoffmann long ago, but she's such a nervous child, and I've alwaysheard he's so very severe. Now, as you've learnt from him for so manyyears, you'll be able to tell me exactly what he's like. Do you find hima kind teacher or not?"
Poor Mildred scarcely knew what to reply.
"He makes you work," she stammered, hoping, for the Professor's sake,that the remainder of the unlucky Mr. Hardcastle's lesson might go withsufficient smoothness not to give rise to any more expressions of noisyindignation from the adjacent room, and looking anxiously at the clock.
"So I expect. And how long do you practise every day?"
"Two hours at my violin, and one at the piano."
"I should never persuade Dorothea to do that!" cried the lady. "Butperhaps just at first an hour would be sufficient for her. Is this someof your music? May I look at it?"
Without waiting for permission, she took up the pieces which Mildred hadlaid on the table by the side of her case, and was beginning to turnthem over when she stopped, evidently struck by the name "MildredLorraine Lancaster" written on the covers.
"Excuse my asking," she said, looking up quickly, "but Lorraine is suchan unusual name that I wonder if you are any relation of the Lorrainesof Castleford Towers?"
"Sir Darcy Lorraine is my uncle," replied Mildred rather stiffly, forshe thought the question inquisitive.
"How very interesting! I frequently visit Lady Lorraine; my sister'shome is in that neighbourhood. Isn't the Towers a beautiful old place?"
"I believe so," said Mildred briefly.
"I suppose you often stay there, though I don't remember having seen youbefore?"
"I've never been there at all," returned Mildred, wondering how shecould stop the conversation.
"Really! And yet you must be just about the same age as Violet, and SirDarcy is always regretting that she has no companions. Are you older oryounger than she is?"
"I'm not sure," murmured Mildred, much embarrassed.
"Now I look at you," continued the lady, "I notice a most distinctlikeness, though your eyes are brown, and Violet is so very fair, isn'tshe?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Why, surely you've seen your own cousin?"
"No, I haven't," said Mildred, getting quite desperate, "I've never metany of them in my life."
"How very strange!" exclaimed the lady. "Surely Sir Darcy and LadyLorraine----"
But here, to Mildred's intense relief, the door opened, and theProfessor entered, bland, smiling, and full of apologies. Patting hispupil's shoulder with the fatherly air that generally impressed parents,he asked her to wait for him in his study for a few minutes. She caughtup her violin, and retired thankfully, wondering whether she had saidtoo much. Until now it had not occurred to her to think at all about hermother's relations; but she saw how curious it must appear to a strangerthat she should never have seen either them or their home, and for thefirst time she experienced a feeling of something like anger at theirneglect. It had been humiliating to be obliged to confess that she knewnothing of a cousin whose existence indeed she had scarcely been awareof till to-day. Though her aunt had told her a few details about theLorraines, the subject had been so closely connected with her father'ssad story that she had not liked to reopen it by asking furtherquestions. She had been quite content to regard herself as the adopteddaughter of the Grahams, and had not identified herself in any way withher more aristocratic connections in the north.
She considered that the lady had taken rather a liberty in asking her somany questions, and heartily wished her full name had not been writtenupon her music, thus giving an opening for the enquiries.
"Well, after all, it doesn't much matter. I don't suppose I shall eversee her again," she mused.
It was, however, a strange coincidence which had brought about thatafternoon's meeting, and it was to be fraught with more consequencesthan she suspected. It is seldom we realize the small beginnings thatoften determine great changes; and as Mildred dismissed the matter fromher mind, she little foresaw that from a ten-minutes' conversation mightissue events that were to form a crisis in her life.
Meantime Herr Hoffmann, having escorted his visitor to the waitingmotor, entered his study once more, and the lesson began. The prospectof a new pupil had perhaps soothed the Professor's mind, for he was in afar better humour than Mildred had dared to expect. The eyes behind thebig spectacles beamed upon her quite amiably, and the large collar,which he ha
d a habit of crumpling up when annoyed, was stiff andimmaculate. Mildred generally regarded her master's collar as astorm-signal, and could gauge his temper by its condition the moment shecaught sight of it. As she was sure it must have suffered very muchduring Mr. Hardcastle's lesson, she could only conclude that he musthave donned a fresh one before interviewing his caller, and hopeddevoutly that her own playing would not cause him to disarrange itsspotless expanse.
She went through her exercises and study to-day without any mishaps, andwith a few misgivings began the concerto. But here she did not fare sobadly as she had feared. To her surprise the troublesome bars came quiteeasily, and catching the spirit of the music, she played it with suchvigour and expression that the Professor nodded his head in statelyapproval.
"So! You have worked!" he said. "It is not yet perfect, but it makeprogress. You take more pains since these last weeks? Yes? Oh, I cantell! I do know when a pupil does her sehr best. Sometimes you come tome and do say you have practise two hours each day. But I find you notimproved. Why? Because it is practice without ze mind. Of what avail isit, I ask, for ze fingers to play if ze attention is not there? If youwould a musician be, you must have both ze body and ze soul of yourpiece. Ze right notes, ze true time, ze correct position of your bow,they are ze flesh without which ze composition cannot at all exist, andneed your altogether utmost care. But there are many people who knownothing beyond. Himmel! Any mechanical instrument can grind out a tune.True music is to give ze world what it cannot make for itself. Ze greatcomposers leave to you indeed ze score of their works, but it is zebeautiful body without life, and it is you who must put into it a soul!"
Herr Hoffmann so seldom gave any words of encouragement that Mildredflushed with pleasure, and ventured to tell him that she had made aneffort to conquer the difficulties in the "Fruehlingslied", which she hadthought before it was quite impossible ever to accomplish.
"That is good! We will hear what you can do," declared the Professor,opening out the music, and tuning his own violin, ready to accompanyher. "Begin gently. Wait! Imagine ze 'cello which is here introducing zemotif. Now you come in and take up ze melody. Let it sing, for it islike a joyous bird, carolling on ze topmost bough. It is a'Fruehlingslied'--ze song of spring--and you must make your instrument totell of ze blossom time. Quick! That shake is too slow. Remember it isze bird that is trilling. Now softly! Softly! Let it die away, beforeall ze orchestra burst into ze chorus. Das ist sehr gut, mein Kindlein!We will rehearse it again, and if you can master ze staccato passage,you shall perform it at my students' concert."
"Oh, I couldn't! I couldn't!" cried Mildred in alarm. "Please don't askme. I should break down. I know I should."
"Unsinn!" (which is German for "stuff and nonsense") cried theProfessor. "You will do what I say. Am I your teacher, and you refuse toplay when I tell you? Nein! You shall work at ze 'Fruehlingslied', andeach Saturday afternoon you shall come to rehearse it with my students'orchestra at ze Philharmonic Hall. Yes, I have said it!"
HERR HOFFMANN TELLS MILDRED THAT SHE IS TO PLAY AT THEPUBLIC RECITAL IN THE TOWN HALL]
Mildred went home completely overwhelmed by her master's suggestion. Thepublic recital given every year in the Town Hall by Herr Hoffmann's bestpupils was a great event, at which many of the most critical musiclovers in the city were generally present. It was well known that onlystudents of unusual talent were allowed to take solo parts. TheProfessor was a very celebrated teacher, and had a reputation to keepup. So far, though St. Cyprian's made a particular cult of music, andHerr Hoffmann had taught there for many years, no girl had ever beenjudged worthy to play at this special annual concert. It was an honourto which even their wildest ambition had not aspired. To be thus chosenout, over the heads of Ella Martin and Elizabeth Chalmers, who wereconsidered the "show" music pupils of the school, was a prospectcalculated to agitate the most sober brains. But there was another sideto it. To play such an important piece as the "Fruehlingslied", whichneeded to be accompanied by a full orchestra, was indeed an ordeal for agirl hardly sixteen years of age. A public audience in the Town Hall wasa different matter from the comparatively small gatherings of parentsand friends at St. Cyprian's. The mere thought of it filled Mildred withnervous horror.
"I don't believe I could ever do it, Tantie," she shivered, as shediscussed the project with her aunt. "I should turn tail and run awaywhen I saw all the people. Need I? Can't I tell the Professor I won't?"
"It would be a sad pity to do that, and would be wasting a greatopportunity. When Herr Hoffmann has shown such a special interest inyou, it would be most ungrateful to refuse at least to try your hardestto please him. He is the best judge of what you can do, and you may besure that he will not allow you to play at the concert unless you havegiven satisfaction at the rehearsals. Both he and Miss Cartwright havetaken great pains with your music, and I think you owe it to St.Cyprian's to show that their trouble has not been thrown away. You mustspeak about it to Miss Cartwright to-morrow, and ask her opinion."
When Mildred broached the idea next morning, she found that thePrincipal heartily sided with Herr Hoffmann, and even made arrangementsfor her to have extra time at school for violin practice. She was to beallowed to omit certain classes, and to be excused various weeklyessays, and her piano studies were for the next few weeks to yield placeto the instrument upon which she showed the greater talent.
"Remember you will be playing for the credit of St. Cyprian's," saidMiss Cartwright. "You must work both for yourself and for the sake ofthe school."
When the news leaked out of the honour that was in store for Mildred,the girls received it in various ways. Ella Martin and ElizabethChalmers congratulated her, and urged her to do her best. Correctplayers themselves, they were above any narrow feelings of jealousy, andwere glad to see Mildred, whom they had hitherto thought inclined to belazy, pushed forward and made to take pains. The general opinion of herown Form was divided. Music was so decidedly of first importance at St.Cyprian's that the matter naturally made a little stir. A number of thegirls did not appreciate Mildred's real talent, and gave all theiradmiration to Lottie Lowman's more superficial performances.
"It's absurd," said Eve Mitchell. "Why should Mildred Lancaster bechosen above everyone else? I can't see that she's so musical. Shemissed three questions in the harmony yesterday. Her theory's dreadfullyshaky. Why isn't Lottie asked to play?"
"Well, you see, it's violin," ventured Nell Hayward.
"Then Ella Martin's our crack player. It's very unpleasant for Ella tobe passed over."
"I suppose that's Professor Hoffmann's affair," said Bess Harrison,taking up the cudgels on Mildred's behalf. "He'd have asked Ella if he'dwanted her."
"Think how tremendously it will make us score in the Alliance," urgedMaudie Stearne. "I don't for a moment suppose that even the High Schoolor the Anglo-German will have a girl playing at the Professor's concert.We'll beat them there, even if they take it out of us at games."
"Lottie may be our delegate, but Mildred's our music champion just now,"declared Clarice Mayfield.
"We've got to keep her at it, though," added Bess.
It was a new thing to Mildred to work diligently and painstakingly asshe had done for the last few weeks. It was quite against her naturalinclination, and I fear that if it had not been for the thought of whatSt. Cyprian's expected from her, she would never have kept it up. As itwas, she felt almost astonished at her own perseverance. Time after timeshe was tempted not to trouble about the "Fruehlingslied", but to playinstead the tunes that came into her mind, and enjoy herself.
"After all, why should one fag so terribly at a thing? I hate slogging,"she confided to her chum, Kitty Fletcher.
"Why? Because you owe it to yourself and the school," exclaimed Kitty."If I'd your talent, I'd be slaving. Do you think I'd do anything ingames if I didn't train? Mildred Lancaster, you've just got to try. Someday I'm going to see your name painted on the board in the lecture hall,so please don't disappoint me."
There was
a large board at St. Cyprian's on which were recorded thesuccesses of former pupils who had gained distinction either by takinguniversity or musical degrees. To find, some time, "Mildred Lancaster"emblazoned thereon in gold letters was an attractive goal of ambition.But between the present and that rosy prospect lay a long, drearyexpanse of continual effort--effort which Mildred's artistic temperamenthated and shrank from, the drudgery upon which every solid achievementmust be built, and without which even the cleverest of people canaccomplish little.