When Hester had sung these, she rose at once, her face white, her mouth
set and her eyes gleaming. Vavasor felt _almost_ as if he were no
longer master of himself, _almost_ as if he would have fallen down
to kiss the hem of her garment, had he but dared to go near her. But she
walked from the room vexed with the emotion she was unable to control,
and did not again appear.
The best thing in Vavasor was his love of music. He had cultivated not a
little what gift he had, but it was only a small power, not of
production, but of mere reproduction like that of Cornelius, though both
finer and stronger in quality. He did not really believe in music--he
did not really believe in anything except himself. He professed to adore
it, and imagined he did, because his greatest pleasure lay in hearing his
own verses well sung by a pretty girl who would now and then steal, or
try to steal, a glance at the poet from under her eyelids as she sang.
On his way home he brooded over the delight of having his best songs sung
by such a singer as Hester; and from that night fancied he had received
a new revelation of what music was and could do, confessing to himself
that a similar experience within the next fortnight would send him over
head and ears in love with Hester--which must not be! Cornelius went half
way with him, and to his questions arising from what Miss Raymount had
said about the professional, assured him, 'pon honor, that that was all
Hester's nonsense!
"_She_ in training for a public singer!--But there's nothing she
likes better than taking a rise out of a fellow," said Cornelius.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130