After Mr.Van Berg and Miss Burton finished the selection from the Oratorio mentioned in the previous chapter,the old white-haired gentleman at whose side the latter had been sitting in the earlier part of the evening rose and said:
"I want to thank all the singers,and especially the young lady and gentleman now at the piano,not only for the pleasure they have given us all,but also for the comforting and sustaining thoughts that the sacred words have suggested.My enjoyments in this world are but few,and are fast diminishing;and I know that they will not refuse an old man's request that they close this service of song by each singing along some hymn that will strengthen our faith in the unseen Friend who watches over us all."Van Berg looked at Miss Burton.
"We cannot refuse such an appeal,"she said.
"I fear that I shall seem a hypocrite in complying,"Van Berg answered,in a low tone."How can I make a distinctly recognized effort to strengthen faith in others when lacking faith myself."Her eyes flashed up to his,in sudden and strong approval."Ilike that,"she said."It always gives me a sense of security and safety when I meet downright honesty.In no way can you better strengthen our faith than by being perfectly true.You give me a good example of sincerity,"she added slowly,"and perhaps my hymn will teach submission more than faith.While I am singing it you may find something that will not express more than you feel."In her sweet,low,yet penetrating voice,that now had a pathos which melted every heart,she sang the following words,which,like the perfume of crushed violets,have risen in prayer from many bruised and broken sprits:
"My God,my father,while I stray Far from my home on life's rough way,Oh teach me from my heart to say,Thy will be done.
What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh;Submissive still would I reply,Thy will be done.
Renew my will from day to day;
Blend it with Thine,and take away Whate'er now makes it hard to say,Thy will be done.
Then when on earth I breathe no more,The prayer oft mixed with tears before,I'll sing upon a happier shore,Thy will be done."Stanton,warm-hearted and genuine with all his faults,retired well into the shadow of the hallway and looked at the singer through the lenses of sympathetic tears.
"Poor orphan girl,"he muttered."What a villain a man would be who could purpose harm to you!"Van Berg,in accordance with his cooler and less demonstrative nature,kept his position at her side,but he regarded her with an expression of respect and interest that caused Ida Mayhew,who was watching from her covert near,a sense of pain and envy that surprised her by its keenness.
With a sudden longing which indicated that the wish came direct from from her heart,she sighed:
"What would I not give to see him look at me with that expression on his face!"Then,startled by her own thought,so vivid had it been,she looked around as if in fear it was apparent to her companion.
His eyes were in truth bent upon her,and in the dusk they seemed like livid coals.A moment later,as with a shrinking sense of fear she furtively looked at him again,his eyes suggested those of some animal of prey that is possessed only with the wolfish desire to devour,caring for the victim only as it may gratify the ravenous appetite.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear:
"Miss Ida,you do not know how strangely,how temptingly beautiful you are to-night.One might well peril his soul for such beauty as yours.""Hush,"she said imperiously,and with a repelling gesture,she stepped further into the light towards the singers.
"Then,when on earth I breathe no more,"sang Miss Burton.
The thought was to the heart of the unhappy listener like the touch of ice to the hand.There was a kindling light of hope in Miss Burton's face,and something in her tone that indicated the courage of an unfaltering trust as she sang the closing lines:
"I'll sing upon a happier shore,Thy will be done."But the words brought a deeper despondency to Ida Mayhew.In bitterness she asked herself,"What chance is there for me to reach 'that happier shore,'with the tempter at my side and everything in the present and past combining to drag me down?""There,thank heaven 'meetin's over,'"whispered Sibley,as Miss Burton rose from the piano."I'm sick of all this pious twaddle,and would a thousand-fold rather listen to the music of your voice out under the trees.""You 'thank heaven'!"she repeated with a reckless laugh."I'm inclined to think,Mr.Sibley,from the nature of your words,you named the wrong locality."The answering look he gave her indicated that she puzzled him.
She had not seemed to-day like the shallow girl who had hitherto accepted of his more innocent compliments as if they were sugar-plums,and merely raised her finger in mock warning at such as contained a spice of wickedness and boldness.There seemed a current of thought in her mind which he could not fathom,and whether it were carrying her away or toward him he was not sure.He understood and welcomed the element of recklessness,but did not like the way in which she looked at Van Berg,nor did it suit his purposes that she should hear so much of what he characterized as "pious twaddle."He whispered again bolder words than he had ever spoken to her before.
"I wish no better heaven than the touch of your hand and the light of your eyes.See,the moon is rising;come with me,for this is the very witching hour for a ramble."She turned upon him a startled look,for he seemed the very embodiment of temptation.But she only said coldly:
"Hush!Mr.Van Berg is about to sing,"and she stepped so far into the lighted room that the artist saw her.
