The Rosary [134]
just as at Shenstone on that memorable night; and, as he sat well back in his deep arm- chair, one knee crossed over the other, she saw the crimson line of his favourite silk socks.
Jane stood looking down upon him. Her hour had come at last. But even now she must, for his sake, be careful and patient.
"I did not hear the song," she said.
"No," replied Garth. "At first, I forgot. And when I remembered, I had been thinking of other things, and somehow--ah, Miss Gray! I cannot sing to-night. My soul is dumb with longing."
"I know," said Jane, gently; "and I am going to sing to you."
A faint look of surprise crossed Garth's face. "Do you sing?" he asked. "Then why have you not sung before?"
"When I arrived," said Jane, "Dr. Rob asked me whether I played. I said: 'A little.' Thereupon he concluded I sang a little, too; and he forbade me, most peremptorily, either to play a little; or sing a little, to you. He said he did not want you driven altogether mad."
Garth burst out laughing.
"How like old Robbie," he said. "And, in spite of his injunctions, are you going to take the risk, and 'sing a little,' to me, to- night?"
"No," said Jane. "I take no risks. I am going to sing you one song. Here is the purple cord, at your right hand. There is nothing between you and the piano; and you are facing towards it. If you want to stop me--you can come."
She walked to the instrument, and sat down.
Over the top of the grand piano, she could see him, leaning back in his chair; a slightly amused smile playing about his lips. He was evidently still enjoying the humour of Dr. Rob's prohibition.
The Rosary has but one opening chord. She struck it; her eyes upon his face. She saw him sit up, instantly; a look of surprise, expectation, bewilderment, gathering there.
Then she began to sing. The deep rich voice, low and vibrant, as the softest tone of 'cello, thrilled into the startled silence.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, ev'ry one apart, My rosary,--my rosary. Each hour a pearl--"
Jane got no further.
Garth had risen. He spoke no word; but he was coming blindly over to the piano. She turned on the music-stool, her arms held out to receive him. Now he had found the woodwork. His hand crashed down upon the bass. Now he had found her. He was on his knees, his arms around her. Hers enveloped him--, yearning, tender, hungry with the repressed longing of all those hard weeks.
He lifted his sightless face to hers, for one moment. "You?" he said. "YOU? You--all the time?"
Then he hid his face in the soft lace at her breast.
"Oh, my boy, my darling!" said Jane, tenderly; holding the dear head close. "Yes; I, all the time; all the time near him, in his loss and pain. Could I have stopped away? But, oh, Garth! What it is, at last to hold you, and touch you, and feel you here! . . . Yes, it is I. Oh, my beloved, are you not quite sure? Who else could hold you thus? . . . Take care, my darling! Come over to the couch, just here; and sit beside me."
Garth rose, and raised her, without loosing her; and she guided herself and him to a safer seat close by. But there again he flung himself upon his knees, and held her; his arms around her waist; his face hidden in the shelter of her bosom.
"Ah,--darling, darling," said Jane softly, and her hands stole up behind his head, with a touch of unspeakable protective tenderness; "it has been so sweet to wait upon my boy; and help him in his darkness; and shield him from unnecessary pain; and be always there, to meet his every need. But I could not come myself--until he knew; and understood; and had forgiven--no, not 'forgiven'; understood, and yet still LOVED. For he does now understand? And he does forgive? . . . Oh, Garth! . . . Oh--hush, my darling! . . . You frighten me! . . . No, I will never leave you; never, never! . . . Oh, can't you understand, my beloved? . . . Then I must tell you more plainly. Darling,--do be still, and listen. Just for a few days we must
Jane stood looking down upon him. Her hour had come at last. But even now she must, for his sake, be careful and patient.
"I did not hear the song," she said.
"No," replied Garth. "At first, I forgot. And when I remembered, I had been thinking of other things, and somehow--ah, Miss Gray! I cannot sing to-night. My soul is dumb with longing."
"I know," said Jane, gently; "and I am going to sing to you."
A faint look of surprise crossed Garth's face. "Do you sing?" he asked. "Then why have you not sung before?"
"When I arrived," said Jane, "Dr. Rob asked me whether I played. I said: 'A little.' Thereupon he concluded I sang a little, too; and he forbade me, most peremptorily, either to play a little; or sing a little, to you. He said he did not want you driven altogether mad."
Garth burst out laughing.
"How like old Robbie," he said. "And, in spite of his injunctions, are you going to take the risk, and 'sing a little,' to me, to- night?"
"No," said Jane. "I take no risks. I am going to sing you one song. Here is the purple cord, at your right hand. There is nothing between you and the piano; and you are facing towards it. If you want to stop me--you can come."
She walked to the instrument, and sat down.
Over the top of the grand piano, she could see him, leaning back in his chair; a slightly amused smile playing about his lips. He was evidently still enjoying the humour of Dr. Rob's prohibition.
The Rosary has but one opening chord. She struck it; her eyes upon his face. She saw him sit up, instantly; a look of surprise, expectation, bewilderment, gathering there.
Then she began to sing. The deep rich voice, low and vibrant, as the softest tone of 'cello, thrilled into the startled silence.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, ev'ry one apart, My rosary,--my rosary. Each hour a pearl--"
Jane got no further.
Garth had risen. He spoke no word; but he was coming blindly over to the piano. She turned on the music-stool, her arms held out to receive him. Now he had found the woodwork. His hand crashed down upon the bass. Now he had found her. He was on his knees, his arms around her. Hers enveloped him--, yearning, tender, hungry with the repressed longing of all those hard weeks.
He lifted his sightless face to hers, for one moment. "You?" he said. "YOU? You--all the time?"
Then he hid his face in the soft lace at her breast.
"Oh, my boy, my darling!" said Jane, tenderly; holding the dear head close. "Yes; I, all the time; all the time near him, in his loss and pain. Could I have stopped away? But, oh, Garth! What it is, at last to hold you, and touch you, and feel you here! . . . Yes, it is I. Oh, my beloved, are you not quite sure? Who else could hold you thus? . . . Take care, my darling! Come over to the couch, just here; and sit beside me."
Garth rose, and raised her, without loosing her; and she guided herself and him to a safer seat close by. But there again he flung himself upon his knees, and held her; his arms around her waist; his face hidden in the shelter of her bosom.
"Ah,--darling, darling," said Jane softly, and her hands stole up behind his head, with a touch of unspeakable protective tenderness; "it has been so sweet to wait upon my boy; and help him in his darkness; and shield him from unnecessary pain; and be always there, to meet his every need. But I could not come myself--until he knew; and understood; and had forgiven--no, not 'forgiven'; understood, and yet still LOVED. For he does now understand? And he does forgive? . . . Oh, Garth! . . . Oh--hush, my darling! . . . You frighten me! . . . No, I will never leave you; never, never! . . . Oh, can't you understand, my beloved? . . . Then I must tell you more plainly. Darling,--do be still, and listen. Just for a few days we must