Part 13

Well, whoever she was, and whatever her nature and qualities, she had certainly managed to make a greater impression on the not very susceptible mind of Mr. Edward Randall, than that mind had received for many a long day. He went to sleep that night with a sense of newness and strangeness upon him, and he waked next morning with a distinct impression that some important change had come into his life. When he remembered what it was he smiled at himself; but all the same, the impression remained.

For several days Randall watched the house opposite, in the hope of seeing again this charming girl; but it was in vain. Other people came and went, for the house was evidently let out to lodgers, but they were of the most uninteresting of the lodging-house class; indeed, as a rule, they were such people as it irked him to think of as living under the same roof with the lovely girl.

One afternoon, however, as he was going out he saw coming down the steps opposite a tall, slight figure in a long, black cloak, which he recognized at once, though this time the face was carefully veiled before coming into the street. This fact seemed a little singular, as it was getting on toward twilight of a mild spring day. He kept the tall figure well in sight, as he happened to be going the same way, and even crossed the street that he might observe her more directly. This fact put a wide space between them which even his rapid walking did not soon decrease, as the woman’s figure moved very swiftly, and as if with some definite and important object. When she came at last to one of the small public parks that relieved the sense of dense habitation of that part of the great city, Randall observed ahead of her a little gathering of people, mostly children, who had collected around an object which he at once recognized.

A cart and horse were drawn up to the sidewalk, and in this light wagon was a small, upright piano. The instrument was open, and a man with a small black mask concealing that part of the face which was not hidden by a black beard, sat on the stool before it, waiting. Randall had seen this sort of thing in London, but it was new to him here. It had no interest for him, however, and he would not have given the thing another thought had not the woman’s figure, which he was watching, crossed directly over to this cart and the man before the piano recognized her with a gesture of satisfaction. He further saw her go straight to the side of the cart, where she paused a moment to take off her veil, revealing the fact that she was masked, also. A close covering of black satin hid the upper part of her face, and a frill of black lace concealed the mouth and chin. The disguise was absolute, and he could have formed no idea of the appearance of the woman, had it not been for the vivid image stamped upon his memory.

He felt a sense of shock at seeing her placed in such a position--a girl with a face like that, a common street singer! True, the face was hidden from view, but that air of concealment and mystery made it seem almost worse. He rebelled, evidently, too, against the thought of the man with his shabby clothes and unkempt beard. He had half a mind to turn and fly, but if she was going to sing he must hear her voice. If it should not match her face, he would be bitterly disappointed--but if, on the other hand, it should, how could he bear her being in such a situation as the present one?

As he saw the tall, slight figure mount into the cart, Randall felt so really agitated over the issue ahead of him, that he sank upon one of the benches in the square and waited with intense interest for the music to begin. Some chords were struck upon the piano, introducing a brief prelude, which the masked man executed in a way that proved him, to Randall’s cultivated ear, to be a well-trained pianist. But while the young man recognized this fact, he looked only at the woman. She wore above her mask a hat with a little brim, under which her hair was all concealed, and between this and the shape of the mask, which was so made as to stand a little out from the upper part of the face, he could not catch even a glimpse of her eyes. Randall had a swift mental vision of the loveliness, pureness, ideality of that hidden face, that stirred his heart with a vague sweetness, when suddenly upon this tender mood there fell a sound which made a discord in the harmony.

It was a woman’s voice, singing a popular air in a manner so finished and correct that the method of it startled him with surprise and appreciation, even while the voice itself repelled him. He listened intently to every note. What was the matter with this voice? It was that of a thoroughly trained and practiced singer, and yet it seemed as if, in some way, it had been hurt. The low notes were hard and husky, the high notes were thin and weak. All of this might be accounted for by some disastrous illness or throat trouble, but even while he made this allowance, there was something in the quality, or character, or individuality of the voice, itself, even when singing the middle notes, which caused no strain, that stung the man who listened with a sharp pang of disappointment--a certain quality of hardness, even commonness, which was the direct contradiction of that fair and sensitive young face.

The selection ended, and Randall, drawing a deep breath, roused himself and looked around upon the crowd which had gathered. They were a motley throng, composed of children, nurses, tramps, policemen, and aimless idlers of various classes. When Randall remembered the girl’s face, his heart resented them all violently; when he thought of her voice, the tones of which still lingered in his ear, he did not care!

But the voice was beginning again, and again he turned and listened. This time it was Schubert’s serenade that she sang, and her technique seemed to him absolutely perfect. Her voice, however, was colder, poorer, more expressionless than before, and he rose as it ended, with an impatient desire to get away. He could have stood any fault of method, had the voice itself been beautiful and sympathetic, but the voice distinctly antagonized him. Before he had moved from his place, however, he saw the woman getting out of the cart with a little basket in her hand, and he remembered that he was supposed to pay for the feast of which he had just partaken. He sat down again, and waited for her to come to him.

As she drew nearer, and he heard the small coins clinking lightly in the basket, a feeling of what was almost disgust took possession of him. He saw looks of bold curiosity turned upon her from every side. He even heard certain comments, which, when he thought of the face upturned to the sky that Sunday morning, made him hot with indignation. When he recalled the voice, however, he was able to control himself.

As the singer approached him, he saw that her eyes, of which he sought eagerly to catch a glimpse, were uniformly cast down, so that even when the light fell so as to enable him to penetrate the shadows of the mask, he saw only a pair of lowered lids.

An idea struck him, and as she came toward him he took a silver dollar from his pocket and dropped it into the basket. He hoped that the unusual size of the coin might cause her to look up, but it did not. She made a little gesture of acknowledgment, as she had done for the pennies and dimes already received, and walked swiftly on. Even the hand that held the basket was covered by a thick glove, which revealed nothing of its shape or character.

As she remounted to her place, handing the basket over to the man, who poured the contents into his pocket, Randall walked away. His pace quickened suddenly, as he heard behind him the voice that had so repelled him, singing with that beautiful method, which compelled admiration in spite of himself, the words and music of “After the Ball.”

The effect of this experience upon Randall was to make him resolve to put his opposite neighbor completely out of his head, a thing he might have accomplished, but for a circumstance which occurred the very next morning.

The day was very mild and beautiful, and his front windows had been left wide open by the maid who had done up his room. Randall went to one of them, and stood with the lace curtains shoved aside by his elbows, his hands resting lightly in his pockets. The people over the way seemed to be making the most of the spring sunshine also, for the windows were open all along, and in some cases, even the doors. The streets, still damp from yesterday’s rainfall, were sending up a faint steam under the warm sunshine, and there seemed to be a perfect epidemic of pavement cleaning in progress. Servant maids with hose or brooms were working away vigorously, and the fresh young green on the budding branches rose above all this, as if the toilets of the trees had been completed before those of the pavements were begun.

Randall had determined to forget his neighbor with the beautiful face and unbeautiful voice, and in order that he might emphasize this resolution, he looked hard at the door of her house, which happened to be one of those that stood open.

He could not penetrate far into the dark chasm of a hall which the opening revealed, but as he looked, out of the darkness there sprang a jet black object, which, as it bounded into the street, he saw to be a rather large black kitten. He knew from its precipitous rush that someone must be after it, and the someone proved to be the beautiful young girl.

If she had been beautiful before, with her long dark cloak and the severe little hat that hid both her head and her hair, what was she now, in a fresh pink cotton gown that revealed every curve of her slight and exquisite young figure, and her lovely face, surmounted by a rippling mass of bright gold-brown hair.

As Randall looked down on her through the budding green of the trees, she seemed of a piece with them, as if she might be the bloom that was the consummation of all their verdant leafage. Instinctively, he stepped back behind the curtains, and concealing himself, carefully watched the scene that followed. The black kitten, evidently used to games of romps with its mistress, had scudded wildly down the steps and scrambled up into the veranda of the next house, where it sat complacently on the railing, to see what was to follow. The girl, with a look that was a compound of desperation and amusement, sat down on the steps, with the evident intention of coaxing the kitten to come to her.

“Minnie, Minnie, Minnie!” she said enticingly, holding out a lovely hand and making little curling gestures with the delicate fingers. At the sound of her voice, raised a little high, so as to reach the kitten, Randall started and caught his breath. It was musical, clear, refined, harmonious, the very complement of her face and figure! He had heard of such things, where some serious illness or injury had ruined a voice for singing, but left its speaking quality untouched! Oh, why should she ever sing, he thought! And why should he ever have had the misfortune to hear her? All the time that he was thinking these thoughts, that vision of youthful loveliness was there before his eyes.

Her figure was charming, as she sat on the doorstep and continued to coax the kitten, in that beautiful voice of appeal; but it was more than charming, it was adorable, as she rose to her feet and, with stealthy motions of consummate grace, began to creep toward the kitten, which sat, with a wary pretense of unconsciousness, perched upon the railing. At last, when she was very near, and the kitten as still as a statue, she darted forward and had almost seized it, when with the agility of a squirrel, the little black creature, with one mad rush, sprang to the pavement, flew across the street, and scrambling up the rough trunk of an old wistaria vine, in a flutter of fun and excitement darted through the open window, and jumped into Randall’s room.

In an instant he captured it, and running down stairs and out of the front door bareheaded, he swiftly crossed the muddy street to the detriment of his patent leather boots, and gave the kitten into the hands of its young mistress, who stood spellbound on the pavement, in startled wonderment at this sudden prank of her pet.

It was a quiet street, and there was no one in sight except, at a little distance, the servants, who were so busy with their swishing and sweeping that apparently they had not observed the little scene.

Randall, as he stood there, in the sweet spring sunshine, face to face with this creature of his dreams and thoughts, took in every detail of her blooming loveliness, more rich than ever now, by reason of a brilliant blush which had come into her face. As she received the kitten from his hands she said a demure, “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_,” he answered, “for the opportunity of seeing such a feat. You could match your kitten with a squirrel, any day, and I’m afraid your chance of holding on to it, in a city, is very small.”

“O, I never let him get out!” she said with sudden anxiety. “He fooled me this time, but he shall not do it again,” and as she spoke she gave the offender a sharp little slap, which so excited it, that with a sudden wrench it sprang from her arms and bounded away, she and Randall following in mad pursuit. Randall had once done notable running in a football team at college, and in the frantic spurt with which he darted after the kitten, his old training told, and he quickly overtook and captured it. When he turned and faced the kitten’s mistress, both of them were flushed and laughing, and rather breathless.

“Oh, how kind you are! Oh, you little brute!” the girl exclaimed, addressing the man and the kitten in one breath. As she held out her hands to take the struggling creature from him, he drew it back.

“No, I will take him as far as the door for you,” he said. “He’s not in the least to be trusted, and would be off and away now, if he could. Poor little beast! I fancy it’s hard to be shut up in a close house all the time, and the chance of escape was too much.”

“Yes, he misses the country so, and so do I! I ought to have pity on Tommy, for I’d run from the city, too, if I could, and if I saw an open door.”

They had reached the house now, and mounted the steps, side by side. He made her go inside and close the door, leaving just enough space for him to hand the wriggling Tommy through. As the little black object passed from his hands to hers, she looked up at him out of the gloom within, and said a fervent, “Thank you.” Her glance was frank and simple as a child’s, but, all the same, it sent him back across the street with a heart whose quick thumping was not wholly due to the rather violent exercise which he had had.

Randall returned to the meditations of his own room more puzzled than ever; and if his interest in the girl of whom he had simply had a glimpse from afar, had been great before, what was it now that he had seen, in the glaring sunlight, only a pace or two away from him, the exquisite perfection of her loveliness, and had heard the refined and educated utterance of a voice which lingered in his ear as one of the very sweetest to which he had ever listened? Then, too, her impetuously expressed longing for the country, and hatred of the city, seemed a strange note to be struck by this being, whom with his own eyes he had seen as a common street musician, truckling to the vulgar taste of a crowd of loafers, and holding out her hands to receive their dirty pennies. As he recalled the scene, the memory of that strident, ineffectual, hard, discordant voice came to him, and he found himself in a state of tempestuous protest against the whole thing. How could that fair, idyllic girl descend to the playing of such a part, and how could such singing go with such a face and figure? He had looked in vain for any signs of illness which might account for it. She seemed the emblem of eternal youth and health. Then came the memory of that look that she had flashed upon him from the gloom, and brought with it certain thoughts and aspirations, which had not been stirred within him for long and saddened years.

The Sunday after the episode with the kitten, Randall came out of his lodgings at a little before eleven o’clock, and saw across the street, just ahead of him, the well-known figure in the long black cloak, with the close veil around the face. He had watched the opposite house for days, but had not caught a glimpse of this figure. Other lodgers came and went (for the house seemed a crowded one), but not the one he sought. He had started out rather aimlessly this morning, and he saw no reason why, in taking his airing, he should not keep the graceful figure ahead of him in view, particularly as he, himself, could not have been observed by her. So, for a long distance he walked after her on the other side of the street, until at last she turned and joined the straggling stream of people that seemed setting toward a small new church--one of the little mission places so common now in our great cities. Randall quoted to himself the lines:

“She went to a cheap, cheap church That stood in a back, back street,”

and smiled at the thought of the new complicatedness of the aspect of things. And when she joined the crowd and entered, a sudden wish to go to church himself came over him, and he saw no reason why he should not indulge it. He did so accordingly, and being told that the seats were all free, he presently found himself placed a little behind the young girl, so that he could have a distinct view of her profile during the entire service. He was secure in the consciousness that he had not been observed, and his presence, therefore, could cause her no annoyance. He watched her furtively as she sank upon her knees, burying her veiled face in two exquisite little shabbily-gloved hands, and remained for some moments in silent prayer. What a wretch of a creature he suddenly felt himself to be, and what a yearning he had to ask her to pray for him!

When she got up presently and took her seat, his heart quickened to see her raise her hand to unfasten her veil. How odd it appeared that no one else seemed to be noticing or caring! The congregation was composed chiefly of people with stolid faces and rather dull expressions, and Randall was further surprised to see that no one manifested any interest when this beautiful young face was exposed to view. He had occasion, however, to congratulate himself upon this indifference, since it extended to himself, as well, and left him free to look toward his lovely neighbor very often. He had to admit that she was as unconscious of the rest of the congregation as he, though no one else that he could see betrayed such absorbed consciousness of the effect of the service. It was a high-church service, and this young girl went through all the rather elaborate forms with an intense devotion and absorption, that for some unknown reason almost made him feel resentful.

The more Randall looked at her, the more lovely and lovable did she appear. It was quite, quite the most beautiful face that he had ever seen, he decided, and his heart was somehow more attuned to worship to-day than he had felt it for many a year.

At last, a hymn was given out, and the congregation rose. Randall jumped up rather suddenly with a positive instinct of flight. He did not want to hear her sing. He could not bear to stand so near and see those most lovely lips part and send forth such a voice as he knew, alas, must issue from them! But while he hesitated, the music began, and the sweet lips remained closed and immovable, except for a little tremor which he fancied he saw, as the girl’s eyes followed the words in her book.

When the hymn ended, and the congregation knelt, he saw the young girl hide her face in her handkerchief for a moment, and then, quickly take up her thick veil and pin it on securely.

He let her go ahead of him on leaving the church, as he did not wish to be observed. He did not follow her home, however, but went instead to the club, and joined a group of chattering men in a bay-window, and listened for half an hour to their vapid comments on the smartly-dressed men and women who went by, feeling all the time a dull ache in his heart for that sensitive, lonely, probably unhappy girl, whose loveliness, even in her shabby clothes in that little mission chapel, made the most fashionable of the women who passed him seem trivial and vulgar by comparison.

For several days, Randall carried this lovely vision in his mind, until one afternoon, in a populous business neighborhood, he came suddenly upon a group of people assembled around the familiar horse and cart and the pair of musicians. He wanted to retreat, but he forced himself to stop and join the crowd, wondering what effect his presence would have upon her, if she should see and recognize him. So he took his place conspicuously, and listened with indignant protest as she sang, in popular style, with a vulgar abandon that made him positively furious, the familiar strains of “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!”