An Ambitious Man

The deacons departed, and the young rector sank back in his chair,

and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sounds which flooded not

only the room, but his brain, heart and soul.

"Queer," he said to himself as the door closed behind the human

pillars of his church. "Queer, but I felt as if the presence of

those men was an intrusion upon something belonging personally to me.

I wonder why I am so peculiarly affected by this girl's music? It

arouses my brain to action, it awakens ambition and gives me courage

and hope, and yet--" He paused before allowing his feeling to shape

itself into thoughts. Then closing his eyes and clasping his hands

behind his head while the music surged about him, he lay back in his

easy-chair as a bather might lie back and float upon the water, and

his unfinished sentence took shape thus: "And yet stronger than all

other feelings which her music arouses in me, is the desire to

possess the musician for my very own for ever; ah, well! the Roman

Catholics are wise in not allowing their priests and their nuns to

listen to all even so-called sacred music."

It was perhaps ten minutes later that Joy Irving became conscious

that she was not alone in the organ loft. She had neither heard nor

seen his entrance, but she felt the presence of her rector, and

turned to find him silently watching her. She played her phrase to

the end, before she greeted him with other than a smile. Then she

apologised, saying: "Even one's rector must wait for a musical

phrase to reach its period. Angels may interrupt the rendition of a

great work, but not man. That were sacrilege. You see, I was really

praying, when you entered, though my heart spoke through my fingers

instead of my lips."

"You need not apologise," the young man answered. "One who receives

your smile would be ungrateful indeed if he asked for more. That

alone would render the darkest spot radiant with light and welcome to

me."

The girl's pink cheek flushed crimson, like a rose bathed in the

sunset colours of the sky.

"I did not think you were a man to coin pretty speeches," she said.

"Your estimate of me was a wise one. You read human nature

correctly. But come and walk in the park with me. You will overtax

yourself if you practise any longer. The sunlight and the air are

vying with each other to-day to see which can be the most

intoxicating. Come and enjoy their sparring match with me; I want to

talk to you about one of my unfortunate parishioners. It is a

peculiarly pathetic case. I think you can help and advise me in the

matter."