The Price She Paid [60]
they are. If they take it as you've taken it, there's hope--great hope. Now, I'm not afraid to tell you that you sang splendidly for an amateur--that you surprised me.''
``Don't spoil it all,'' said Mildred. ``You were right; I can't sing.''
``Not for grand opera, not for comic opera even,'' replied Mrs. Brindley. ``But you will sing, and sing well, in one or the other, if you work.''
``You really mean that?'' said Mildred.
``If you work intelligently and persistently,'' said Mrs. Brindley. ``That's a big if--as you'll discover in a year or so.''
``You'll see,'' said Mildred confidently. ``Why, I've nothing else to do, and no other hope.''
Mrs. Brindley's smile had a certain sadness in it. She said:
``It's the biggest if in all this world.''
V
AT Mrs. Belloc's a telephone message from Jennings was awaiting her; he would call at a quarter-past eight and would detain Miss Stevens only a moment. And at eight fifteen exactly he rang the bell. This time Mildred was prepared; she refused to be disconcerted by his abrupt manner and by his long sharp nose that seemed to warn away, to threaten away, even to thrust away any glance seeking to investigate the rest of his face or his personality. She looked at him candidly, calmly, and seeingly. Seeingly. With eyes that saw as they had never seen before. Perhaps from the death of her father, certainly from the beginning of Siddall's courtship, Mildred had been waking up. There is a part of our nature--the active and aggressive part-- that sleeps all our lives long or becomes atrophied if we lead lives of ease and secure dependence. It is the important part of us, too--the part that determines character. The thing that completed the awakening of Mildred was her acquaintance with Mrs. Belloc. That positive and finely-poised lady fascinated her, influenced her powerfully--gave her just what she needed at the particular moment. The vital moments in life are not the crises over which shallow people linger, but are the moments where we met and absorbed the ideas that enabled us to weather these crises. The acquaintance with Mrs. Belloc was one of those vital moments; for, Mrs. Belloc's personality--her look and manner, what she said and the way she said it--was a proffer to Mildred of invaluable lessons which her awakening character eagerly absorbed. She saw Jennings as he was. She decided that he was of common origin, that his vanity was colossal and aquiver throughout with sensitiveness; that he belonged to the familiar type of New-Yorker who succeeds by bluffing. Also, she saw or felt a certain sexlessness or indifference to sex--and this she later understood. Men whose occupation compels them constantly to deal with women go to one extreme or the other--either become acutely sensitive to women as women or become utterly indifferent, unless their highly discriminated taste is appealed to--which cannot happen often. Jennings, teaching only women because only women spending money they had not earned and could not earn would tolerate his terms and his methods, had, as much through necessity as through inclination, gone to the extreme of lack of interest in all matters of sex. One look at him and the woman who had come with the idea of offering herself in full or part payment for lessons drooped in instinctive discouragement.
Jennings hastened to explain to Mildred that she need not hesitate about closing with Mrs. Brindley. ``Your lessons are arranged for,'' said he. ``There has been put in the Plaza Trust Company to your credit the sum of five thousand dollars. This gives you about a hundred dollars a week for your board and other personal expenses. If that is not enough, you will let me know. But I estimated that it would be enough. I do not think it wise for young women entering upon the preparation for a serious career to have too much money.''
``It is more than enough,'' murmured the girl. ``I know nothing about those things, but it seems to me--''
``You can use as little of it as you like,'' interrupted Jennings, rising.
``Don't spoil it all,'' said Mildred. ``You were right; I can't sing.''
``Not for grand opera, not for comic opera even,'' replied Mrs. Brindley. ``But you will sing, and sing well, in one or the other, if you work.''
``You really mean that?'' said Mildred.
``If you work intelligently and persistently,'' said Mrs. Brindley. ``That's a big if--as you'll discover in a year or so.''
``You'll see,'' said Mildred confidently. ``Why, I've nothing else to do, and no other hope.''
Mrs. Brindley's smile had a certain sadness in it. She said:
``It's the biggest if in all this world.''
V
AT Mrs. Belloc's a telephone message from Jennings was awaiting her; he would call at a quarter-past eight and would detain Miss Stevens only a moment. And at eight fifteen exactly he rang the bell. This time Mildred was prepared; she refused to be disconcerted by his abrupt manner and by his long sharp nose that seemed to warn away, to threaten away, even to thrust away any glance seeking to investigate the rest of his face or his personality. She looked at him candidly, calmly, and seeingly. Seeingly. With eyes that saw as they had never seen before. Perhaps from the death of her father, certainly from the beginning of Siddall's courtship, Mildred had been waking up. There is a part of our nature--the active and aggressive part-- that sleeps all our lives long or becomes atrophied if we lead lives of ease and secure dependence. It is the important part of us, too--the part that determines character. The thing that completed the awakening of Mildred was her acquaintance with Mrs. Belloc. That positive and finely-poised lady fascinated her, influenced her powerfully--gave her just what she needed at the particular moment. The vital moments in life are not the crises over which shallow people linger, but are the moments where we met and absorbed the ideas that enabled us to weather these crises. The acquaintance with Mrs. Belloc was one of those vital moments; for, Mrs. Belloc's personality--her look and manner, what she said and the way she said it--was a proffer to Mildred of invaluable lessons which her awakening character eagerly absorbed. She saw Jennings as he was. She decided that he was of common origin, that his vanity was colossal and aquiver throughout with sensitiveness; that he belonged to the familiar type of New-Yorker who succeeds by bluffing. Also, she saw or felt a certain sexlessness or indifference to sex--and this she later understood. Men whose occupation compels them constantly to deal with women go to one extreme or the other--either become acutely sensitive to women as women or become utterly indifferent, unless their highly discriminated taste is appealed to--which cannot happen often. Jennings, teaching only women because only women spending money they had not earned and could not earn would tolerate his terms and his methods, had, as much through necessity as through inclination, gone to the extreme of lack of interest in all matters of sex. One look at him and the woman who had come with the idea of offering herself in full or part payment for lessons drooped in instinctive discouragement.
Jennings hastened to explain to Mildred that she need not hesitate about closing with Mrs. Brindley. ``Your lessons are arranged for,'' said he. ``There has been put in the Plaza Trust Company to your credit the sum of five thousand dollars. This gives you about a hundred dollars a week for your board and other personal expenses. If that is not enough, you will let me know. But I estimated that it would be enough. I do not think it wise for young women entering upon the preparation for a serious career to have too much money.''
``It is more than enough,'' murmured the girl. ``I know nothing about those things, but it seems to me--''
``You can use as little of it as you like,'' interrupted Jennings, rising.