Falconer finished tuning, glanced toward Nell--the gallery was too dimly
lit for him to see the pallor of her face--then began to play a solo.
Coming after the dance music, the sonata he had chosen was like a breath
of pure, heather-scented air floating in upon the gas-laden atmosphere
of the heated room; and at the first strains of the delicious melody the
people below stopped talking, and turned their eyes up to the front of
the gallery, where the tall, thin form in its worn velvet jacket stood,
for that moment, at least, the supreme figure.
Nell, as she listened, felt as if a cool, pitying hand had fallen upon
her aching heart; as if a voice of thrilling sweetness were whispering
tender consolation. Never loud, but with an insistent force which held
the listeners in thrall, sometimes so low that it was but a murmur, the
exquisite music stole over the senses of all, awakening tender memories,
reviving scattered hopes, softening, for the short space it held its
sway, world-hardened hearts.
The tears gathered in Nell's eyes, bringing her infinite relief; but she
could see through her tears that the great hall was filling with the
hasty return of those who had been within hearing of the music, and when
it ceased there rose a burst of applause, led by the earl himself.
"How very beautiful!" exclaimed the duchess, who was on his arm. "The
man must be a genius. Where did you find him, Lord Angleford?"
Drake did not reply for a moment, as if he had not heard her. The music
had moved him more deeply, perhaps, than it had moved any other. His
face was set, his brows knit, and his head drooped as if weighed down by
some memory. He had been so occupied by his duties as host that he had
forgotten the past for that hour or two, at any rate; but at the first
strains of the music Nell came back to him. It was the swell of the tide
against the _Annie Laurie_; it was Nell's voice itself which he heard
through the melody of the famous sonata. He listened with an aching
longing for those past weeks of pure and perfect love, with a loathing
for the empty, desolate present. "Nell! Nell!" his heart seemed to cry.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I did not find him. He is here by
chance."
"He must be a very great musician," said the duchess enthusiastically.
"What is his name?"
"Falconer," replied Drake. "He's staying at one of the lodges."