so hard to stay here, week after
week, and be kept at arm's length. This one thing she asked of me, and
her proud old eyes pleaded. Could I refuse?"

Garth was all sympathy. "No, dear," he said thoughtfully; "of course
you couldn't. And don't bother over that silly joke about the 'surprise
packet.' You see, you won't be that. I have no doubt you sing vastly
better than most of them, but they will not realise it. It takes a
Velma to make such people as these sit up. They will think THE ROSARY a
pretty song, and give you a mild clap, and there the thing will end. So
don't worry."

Jane sat and considered this. Then: "Dal," she said, "I do hate singing
before that sort of audience. It is like giving them your soul to look
at, and you don't want them to see it. It seems indecent. To my mind,
music is the most REVEALING thing in the world. I shiver when I think
of that song, and yet I daren't do less than my best. When the moment
comes, I shall live in the song, and forget the audience. Let me tell
you a lesson I once had from Madame Blanche. I was singing Bemberg's
CHANT HINDOU, the passionate prayer of an Indian woman to Brahma. I
began: 'BRAHMA! DIEU DES CROYANTS,' and sang it as I might have sung
'DO, RE, MI.' Brahma was nothing to me. 'Stop!' cried Madame Blanche in
her most imperious manner. 'Ah, vous Anglais! What are you doing?
BRAHMA, c'est un Dieu! He may not be YOUR God. He may not be MY God.
But he is somebody's God. He is the God of the song. Ecoutez!' And she
lifted her head and sang: 'Brahma! Dieu des croyants! Maitre des cites
saintes!' with her beautiful brow illumined, and a passion of religious
fervour which thrilled one's soul. It was a lesson I never forgot. I
can honestly say I have never sung a song tamely, since."

"Fine!" said Garth Dalmain. "I like enthusiasm in every branch of art.
I never care to paint a portrait, unless I adore the woman I am
painting."

Jane smiled. The conversation was turning exactly the way she had hoped
eventually to lead it.

"Dal, dear," she said, "you adore so many in turn, that we old friends,
who have your real interest at heart, fear you will never adore to any
definite purpose."

Garth laughed. "Oh bother!" he said. "Are you like all the rest? Do you
also think adoration and admiration must necessarily mean marriage. I
should have expected you to take a saner and more masculine view."

"My dear boy," said Jane, "your friends have decided that you need a
wife.