The First Soprano Part 9

He made hasty adieux and was off, his light, swinging step sounding pleasantly down the walk.

Winifred stood where he had left her, with a conflict of emotions in her heart. She still felt the tingle of his lips upon her hand, and still smiled at the airy nothings he said. But there was pain in the compound of her thoughts; pain at a difference between them that proclaimed its power to grow wider; pain at defeat in making a principle understood and appreciated; pain most of all from the subtle sense of something pure and sweet now sullied, as though too rude a breath had blown upon a sensitive flower, or as though pearls had been ignorantly trodden upon.

Meanwhile Frothingham, on his way to the handsome church, indulged in characteristic meditations of his own regarding Winifred's strange freak. He heartily hoped she would get over it. It was a stupid turn for affairs to take as regarded himself; for perpetual meetings at the choir, with the pleasant walks attached, and frequent private rehearsals in the Gray drawing-room had furnished admirable facilities for the courtship of whose issue he had not a doubt. But it was far from a misfortune that could not be mended. He should miss her immensely, of course, but there were other pleasant people in the choir and he held an easy popularity among them. Then he was too well ingratiated in her favor and as a frequent guest at her house to be displaced by this matter. He should still do the attentive in every available way. But he hoped she was not getting fanatical. It would be inexpressibly stupid to have a wife over pious, with extreme views about things. He should like her to be religious up to a certain point. He thought women ought to be that. It was a good thing to have somebody in a house who knew something about those things in case of trouble. Mr. Frothingham was himself in the insurance business--at the head of a prominent company's office for that city--and he was accustomed to take business-like account of life risks, and to recognize death as a hard factor to be dealt with. Just now he unconsciously erected a kind of spiritual lightning rod against his future house in the piety of its expected mistress. But he hoped she would not get too religious--not enough so to interfere with the life of gayety which he expected to continue for many a year. But it did not occur to him to relinquish her even if she should begin to show symptoms of extreme views. He was rather fond of Winifred--quite so, in fact; and he was not indifferent to "the old man's ducats," as he had confided to himself and to one or two most intimate friends. On the whole he congratulated himself on pleasant prospects ahead, and was not too much disconcerted by his own appearance alone at the rehearsal.

Winifred spent the evening rather ill at ease. Its pleasant habit was broken up. Had she been foolish? Was she not taking an unheard-of stand? Would it have been better to go along and conform her course to the popular conscience instead of her own, perhaps very silly, one?

She should be laughed at, and it was miserable to be laughed at or thought eccentric. She tried to play the piano, but imagined strains from the Redemption interrupted her. She went to talk with her mother, but found her seated beside the library table with her embroidery while her father read aloud.

Mrs. Gray managed to utter an aside:

"I had forgotten, child, that you were not going to the rehearsal. How strange it seems!"

Winifred drifted away again, unable to listen to what her father was reading. Hubert was nowhere to be found. She went at last to her own room and did the best thing possible. She poured out her heart before G.o.d, telling Him with the simplicity that had characterized her first coming to Him her perplexity and unhappiness.

"I am miserable," she said to Him. "I don't know whether I have done right or not, and I miss the music so much. Please let me know if it is right to give it up? I do wish to worship Thee."

No flood of revelation poured at once upon her, but she took her Bible and read. She had learned no method of study, but read where she chanced to open. The portion did not say anything about choirs or rehearsals, but it led her mind away and soothed her. And its atmosphere was so pure and fragrant that when the debated thing rose again it was instantly judged by contrast. Very different was the spiritual air of her choir experience, as in imagination she stepped back into it; and the fellowship of George Frothingham, Mr. Mercer, and the drink-sodden organist, did not seem like the communion of the saints as she found it in the Acts of the Apostles.

With the vanishing of her doubts as to the wisdom of her course came back the gentle peace that she had known for five blessed days, and its price was above all musical delights.

CHAPTER VII

A NEW SUNDAY

Sunday morning found four people seated in the comfortable pew which the iron merchant was able to pay for. And, by the way, what a comfortable thing is wealth in the various ramifications of life, even to one's church relationships! No fear of the unwelcome bidding, "Sit thou here under my footstool"--in the undesirable front seats where one's neck must be craned backward to admit of seeing the minister; nor of being relegated to the back pews when ears have become a little dull with age. How thankful should one be whose lot in life is thus favorably cast! But we have not admitted to our consciousness a thankfulness that the Epistle of James is not often read; or, if read, too literally dwelt upon. We have found a grateful oil to pour upon any rising waters of ill conscience in reflecting upon the beneficent adjustment of social relationships by a wise Providence and the divine right of money-kings.

Mrs. Gray and her neighbor, Mrs. b.u.t.terworth, exchanged serene glances of recognition across the shallow part.i.tion that separated them, but the latter added a look of inquiry as it was observed that Winifred was with her family. Mrs. Gray's heart sank at the thought of having to explain the phenomenon when once the service should be over. Winifred felt that many eyes must note her presence there instead of in the choir, and the embarra.s.sment of the thought almost dissipated the spirit of true worship for which she had longed and prayed. But she had soon forgotten to a considerable degree the people about her, and gave herself diligently to the service. It was not altogether without self-consciousness, however, that she joined in the hymns, fearing lest her own voice should be heard above others. Mrs. Gray, too, wished that she would not sing quite so loudly, lest it should destroy the convenient fiction of the laryngitis.

Hubert realized that he took his place in the congregation on an entirely new basis this day, and he endeavored earnestly to put away all spirit of his former prejudice and to receive in meekness anything which his Lord might say to him from His place in the midst. He tried to forget how utterly hollow and meaningless the formalities of the service had heretofore seemed to him, and to discern, if possible, within the mold of man's fashioning the operation of the Spirit of G.o.d.

With his own heart at peace with G.o.d and charged with His joy, it was easy to look upon all about him more kindly, with an eye as critical to find good and honor it as to discover evil. Upon even his long-time aversion, Doctor Schoolman, he looked with expectancy, for had he not, after all, known for these many years Him whom he--Hubert--had but just "begun to know," as Winifred would put it? With ears now open, should he not hear much which would cause his heart to burn within him?

Hubert and Winifred shared the same hymn-book, and together sang with deep gladness hymns which ascribe praises to Christ. But, intent upon truthfulness, Winifred paused before sentiments not understood, or the profession of experiences quite unfelt, and let the congregation sing on without her. The privilege of doing so gave her keen satisfaction, even though it was difficult to stop in the midst of a pleasant melody.

"Better a break in the melody than in sincerity," she said to herself, "since the Lord is here and taking note of everything."

The thought of His presence was very sweet; not at all the vision of terror which it had seemed to her a week ago. She found the fear of Him not incompatible with the purest confidence and love.

The choir rendered their accustomed service, and a new soprano, on trial, exploited her skill in solo parts. She sang without Winifred's refinement of artistic sense, but sang fashionably. She sang dramatically, and cast languishing glances at the unresponsive backs of the congregation, blinking over her notes as though invisible footlights dazzled her eyes. It was not easy to find the sentiment sung in the midst of the quavering notes, so the poor worshipers below could scarcely offer "amens" in their hearts; but they might perhaps consider thankfully that some sort of noise, "joyful" or otherwise, had been made unto the Lord by their paid proxy.

Doctor Schoolman's sermon was a typical one. Finished and elegant, his polished sentences reached his congregation gently; not like swift arrows from a tense bow, but rather like harmless darts taken from the preacher's quiver and laid without violence against the hearts of his listeners. Very good arrows they often were from the philosophic standpoint, but seldom fashioned from the rugged essential truths of the doctrine of Christ.

He had a text from Scripture certainly. But no slavish adherence to its evident meaning, as seen by its setting, hampered the orator in his thought. Indeed, was it not a kindness to the old Book that still somewhat from its pages was thought worthy to act as a peg upon which to hang the ripe and cultivated ideas of the twentieth century?

Hubert did not find his soul much fed by the discourse, but, keen and discriminating as his mind might be, he was not yet a Bible student and able to disentangle the original thoughts of the preacher from the teachings of revelation. He found much to a.s.sent to ethically, but, compared with the revelation in his laboratory when the pure light of heaven shone upon the pages of John's Gospel, the rhetorical utterances of Doctor Schoolman were as water unto wine. They were not so commanding but that he at last found time to glance at his neighbors to see how they were taking the sermon. Winifred was too near him to be looked at, likewise his father; but he could see his mother. Very elegant, very composed, very approving she looked. A calm contentment beamed upon her mobile face, and Hubert could not help it that his sharp eye, formed to detect minutiae, printed upon his mind even the details of the picture she made, sitting so quietly there. Soft, l.u.s.trous, black silk became well the figure which a life of gentle inactivity caused to incline to corpulence, while a modest show of exquisite lace relieved its somberness. There was just a tiny glitter of costly gems, not too vulgarly showy for church, and the most suitable of bonnets crowned the graceful head, whose waves of soft brown hair still repudiated silver.

The minister's text led him to heaven at this point, and he drew it in sentimental lines; a place whose essential light was not so much the Lamb as other things; a place of reunited friends, of congenial occupations, of tastes gratified, and of knowledge ever widening. He offered no uncomfortable suggestion that any of his hearers might fail of entering there.

Hubert saw among his hearers abstracted faces not a few; interested, studious faces; and hungry faces which looked their longing for meat not found as yet in the Lord's house. Among the last cla.s.s he noticed in one of the front pews a man, evidently an artisan, whose deep, large eyes looked yearningly toward the pulpit with an appeal for bread, while from it there came, through fine and learned discourse, to his untutored mind a stone. His face smote Hubert with a sudden pity, and a hunger crept into his own heart, not alone to know Christ, but to make Him known. He wondered if this man had ever seen Him as he had.

Oh, if he could only tell him of Him, and turn the misery of those longing eyes into joy!

The sermon ended. It was never very long; for Doctor Schoolman well knew that patience, that sits good-naturedly for hours at games or races, or in the seats of a packed theater, has very short limits at church. He never taxed it, nor himself, too far. So the closing hymn was punctually sung, and the benediction was p.r.o.nounced in tender tones upon the congregation.

Mrs. b.u.t.terworth's curiosity blossomed afresh when the meeting was over and she had the opportunity of speaking with Winifred and her mother.

She addressed herself to the former, to Mrs. Gray's mingled relief and terror; relief that she herself was not called upon to find excuses, and terror lest Winifred should make herself ridiculous.

"You were not in the choir this morning?" she said with a "why" in her voice.

"No," said Winifred, "I have left the choir."

"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. b.u.t.terworth in a shocked voice. "I hope not for good?"

"Yes--I think it is for good," Winifred confessed.

"Oh, please do not say so!" cried Mrs. b.u.t.terworth, but in a suppressed voice, for they had not yet left the church. "What shall we do? We have enjoyed your singing so very much!"

"I am afraid I have been too conscious of that fact," said Winifred frankly, while her mother looked alarmed. "I think I shall be able to worship G.o.d more sincerely in the congregation."

Mrs. Gray felt that the worst had come, now that Winifred had declared her position. She almost turned faint as she heard her speak to Mrs.

b.u.t.terworth so simply and directly of worshiping G.o.d. To be sure they were still in the building supposably dedicated to that end, but to speak aloud of it in so many words seemed very bad form. Her daughter might sing protests of adoration in the ears of the whole congregation, with the loudest of affected fervor, and she found no fault with it.

But the comfort of that was that n.o.body believed she meant it!

Mrs. b.u.t.terworth looked at Winifred keenly, and partially grasped her meaning.

"Oh, I hope you'll not look at it that way," she said half soothingly.

"It might suit your own feelings better, but what about ours? I have often said," and her eyebrows arched plaintively, "that your singing did me more good than the sermon!"

Winifred looked at the worldly, fashionable woman and wondered, not at all cynically, how much good her combined efforts with Doctor Schoolman's had done toward a life-transformation.

"I am sorry not to sing," she said sympathetically, "since you enjoyed it so much, I would gladly continue if I could. I cannot. But there is already someone in my place--"

Mrs. b.u.t.terworth lifted her hand in silent protest. She looked at Winifred reproachfully, and settled her lips as one who should say nothing of the new singer in contrast with her favorite. She shook her head resignedly, and at this moment they were joined by someone else who proffered greetings. Winifred was glad to join Hubert and to slip out as quickly as possible, they both as usual preferring the walk home to the carriage. Frothingham saw them from afar, and inwardly commented upon Hubert's unwonted appearance at church for two consecutive Sundays, and his own consequent loss. He had no mind to join Winifred with Hubert for a third.

The two exchanged views of the sermon on the way home. It seemed very strange to hear Hubert speak of it sympathetically. He mentioned some admirable points which he found in the minister's reasoning, and refrained from saying that the change of heart he had himself experienced had not made less hateful to him Doctor Schoolman's affected style.

"How did you like the sermon?" he asked Winifred when he had expressed his own opinion.

"Oh, I don't know," said Winifred hesitatingly. "He said some lovely things. That ill.u.s.tration from Greek mythology was beautiful. I am sure I shall remember that. But I wish," she added innocently, "that he had said more about the Lord."

"So do I," said Hubert decidedly.

They walked on in silence for awhile and then Hubert spoke.

"I am not a qualified judge of sermons," he said, "but I would a hundred times rather read the Gospel of John."