Weighed and Wanting. George MacDonaldЧитать онлайн книгу.
Hester was in a wayward mood, and inclined to prospect.
"Suppose such was not really Corney's reason," she resumed, "but that he thought it degraded him to be the brother of an intended professional—what would you say to that?"
"I should tell him he was a fool. He cannot know his Burke," he added laughingly, "to be ignorant of the not inconsiderable proportion of professional blood mixed with the blue in our country."
It was not in Vavasor's usual taste: he had forgotten his best manners. But in truth he never had any best manners: comparatively few have anything but second-best, as the court of the universe will one day reveal. Hester did not like the remark, and he fancied from her look she had misunderstood him.
"Many a singer and actress too has married a duke or a marquis," he supplemented in explanation.
"What sort of a duke or marquis?" asked Hester, in a studiedly wooden way. "It was the more shame to them," she added.
"Pardon me. I cannot allow that it would be any shame to the best of our nobility—"
"I beg your pardon—I meant to the professionals," interrupted Hester.
Vavasor was posed. To her other eccentricities it seemed Miss Raymount added radicalism—and that not of the palest pink! But happily for him, Cornelius, who had been all the time making noises on the piano, at this point appeared at the window.
"Come, Hetty," he said, "sing that again. I shall sing it ever so much better after! Come, I will play the accompaniment."
"It's not worth singing. It would choke me—poor, vapid, vulgar thing!"
"Hullo, sis!" cried Cornelius; "it's hardly civil to use such words about any song a fellow cares to sing!"
Hester's sole answer was a smile, in which, and I am afraid it was really there, Vavasor read contempt, and liked her none the worse for it. Cornelius turned in offense, went back to the piano, and sang the song again—not one hair better—in just the same nerveless, indifferent fashion as before; for how shall one who has no soul, put soul into a song?
Mrs. Raymount was sitting at the fireside with her embroidery. She had not spoken since tea, but now she called Hester, and said to her quietly—
"Don't provoke him, Hester. I am more than delighted to find he has begun to take an interest in music. It is a taste that will grow upon him. Coax him to let you teach him—and bear with him if he should sing out of tune.—It is nothing wicked!" she added with a mother-smile.
Hester was silent. Her conscience rebuked her more than her heart. She went up to him and said—
"Corney, dear, let me find you a song worth singing."
"A girl can't choose for a man. You're sure to fix on some sentimental stuff or other not fit to sing!"
"My goodness, Corney!" cried Hester, "what do you call the song you've just been singing?"
In the days when my heart was aching
Like the shell of an overtuned lyre.
"Ha! ha! ha!"
She laughed prettily, not scornfully, then striking an attitude of the mock heroic, added, on the spur of the moment—
"And the oven was burning, not baking,
The tarts of my soul's desire!"
—for at the moment one of those fumes the kitchen was constantly firing at the drawing-room, came storming up as if a door had been suddenly opened in yet lower regions. Cornelius was too much offended and self-occupied to be amused, but both Mrs. Raymount and Vavasor laughed, the latter recognizing in Hester's extemporization a vein similar to his own. But Hester was already searching, and presently found a song to her mind—one, that was, fit for Cornelius.
"Come now, Corney," she said; "here is a song I should like you to be able to sing!"
With that she turned to the keys, and sang a spirited ballad, of which the following was the first stanza:
This blow is for my brother:
You lied away his life;
This for his weeping mother,
This for your own sweet wife;
For you told that lie of another
To pierce her heart with its knife.
And now indeed the singer was manifest; genius was plainly the soul of her art, and her art the obedient body to the informing genius. Vavasor was utterly enchanted, but too world-eaten to recognize the soul she almost waked in him for any other than the old one. Her mother thought she had never heard her sing so splendidly before.
The ballad was of a battle between two knights, a good and a bad—something like Browning's Count Gismond: the last two lines of it were—
So the lie went up in the face of heaven
And melted in the sun.
When Hester had sung these, she rose at once, her face white, her mouth set and her eyes gleaming. Vavasor felt almost as if he were no longer master of himself, almost as if he would have fallen down to kiss the hem of her garment, had he but dared to go near her. But she walked from the room vexed with the emotion she was unable to control, and did not again appear.
The best thing in Vavasor was his love of music. He had cultivated not a little what gift he had, but it was only a small power, not of production, but of mere reproduction like that of Cornelius, though both finer and stronger in quality. He did not really believe in music—he did not really believe in anything except himself. He professed to adore it, and imagined he did, because his greatest pleasure lay in hearing his own verses well sung by a pretty girl who would now and then steal, or try to steal, a glance at the poet from under her eyelids as she sang. On his way home he brooded over the delight of having his best songs sung by such a singer as Hester; and from that night fancied he had received a new revelation of what music was and could do, confessing to himself that a similar experience within the next fortnight would send him over head and ears in love with Hester—which must not be! Cornelius went half way with him, and to his questions arising from what Miss Raymount had said about the professional, assured him, 'pon honor, that that was all Hester's nonsense!
"She in training for a public singer!—But there's nothing she likes better than taking a rise out of a fellow," said Cornelius. "She would as soon think of singing in public as of taking a bar-maid's place in a public-house!"
"But why did you never tell me your sister was such an awful swell of a singer?" asked Vavasor.
"Do you think so? She ought to feel very much flattered! Why I didn't tell you?—Oh, I don't know! I never heard her sing like that before. Upon my word I never did. I suppose it was because you were there. A brother's nobody, don't you know?"
This flattered Vavasor, as how should it not? and without the least idea of whither the spirit in the feet of his spirit was leading him, he went as often to the Raymounts' lodging as for very shame of intrusion he dared—that is, all but every night. But having, as he thought, discovered and learned thoroughly to understand her special vein, as he called it, he was careful not to bring any of his own slight windy things of leaf-blowing songs under Hester's notice—not, alas! that he thought them such, but that he judged it prudent to postpone the pleasure: she would require no small amount of training before she could quite enter into the spirit and special merit of them!
In the meantime as he knew a good song sometimes when he saw it, always when he heard her sing it, never actually displeased her with any he did bring under her notice, had himself a very tolerable voice, and was capable of managing it with taste and judgment, also of climbing upon the note itself to its summit, and of setting right with facility any fault explained to him, it came about by a scale of very natural degrees, that he found himself by and by, not a little to his satisfaction, in the relation to her of a pupil to a teacher. Hester in truth gave herself a good deal of trouble with him, in the endeavor, by no means an unsuccessful one, to improve the quality of his