It was a very gay and pretty scene—the merry groups of skaters, the bright cold January sunshine gleaming on the crystals that decked the boughs of the trees surrounding the lake, The Towers looking like a Christmas card with its ivy-clad turrets, and in the distance the snow-covered hills rising with an Alpine whiteness above the dark patch of the pine woods. On the supposition that frosty air gives keen appetites, Lady Lorraine had made generous provision for her guests. At eleven o'clock hot beef-tea and toast were brought out, and at half-past one everybody went to the house for lunch, while chocolates and toffee were dealt out liberally during the morning. Among all the young people who were assembled together none made a more charming figure than Violet. In a blue-velvet costume, with grey squirrel furs, her eyes shining like stars and her cheeks as pink as carnations, she was the acknowledged belle of the occasion, and "The Lady of the Lake", "The Snow Queen", "The Frost Fairy", and "Venus of the Ice" were but a few of the epithets bestowed upon her. She had no lack of partners to skate with, and was kept so busy among all her many friends that it was not until late afternoon that she was able to get a word with Mildred alone. The cousins had not yet seen much of each other, for during the earlier part of the visit Violet had been away staying with the Tracys, and had just returned home when the frost grew keen. Sir Darcy considered her too precious a treasure to risk her life at bobsleighing, so she had not been allowed to join the Somervilles' tobogganing expeditions; and though all the party at the Vicarage had had tea on Sunday at The Towers, Violet had been too much in request helping her mother to act hostess to allow time for any private talk with Mildred.
"Come along now!" she said brightly, "I've set all those boys to sweep for the curling, so we shall have a few minutes' peace. Let's take a turn together round the lake. I've heaps and heaps of things I want to tell you. I tried to scoot away with you on Sunday, but I never got an opportunity."
Hand in hand the two girls started, and were soon deep in a most interesting conversation. Violet had really grown rather fond of Mildred while the latter was staying at The Towers, and had missed her since she went away. She had made a confidante of her cousin during the summer, and she was now anxious to pour into her sympathetic ears the accumulated news of many months. Anxious that their tête-à-tête should not be disturbed, they skated as far away from their friends as possible, going towards the lower part of the lake, a portion which had been so far avoided, owing to the roughness of the ice. If it was an unpleasant surface, at least they had it to themselves, so they went on and on, not looking particularly in what direction they were going, Violet talking hard and Mildred listening and putting in comments.
"So you see how it is, and I shouldn't be surprised if Miss Ward doesn't come back at all after the holidays, or at least leaves at Easter," Violet was saying, when Mildred suddenly gave a sharp exclamation and, loosing her hand, cried to her to stop.
It was indeed high time. So engrossed had the girls been in their conversation that they had not noticed they were approaching the overflow of the lake. The rough ice had grown thinner, and ahead of them, where the brook took its source, it was barely half an inch in thickness, and stretched a smoother but most treacherous surface, narrowing to the half-frozen outlet.
The shock of loosing hands threw Mildred on her back, but Violet, unable to stop herself, skimmed rapidly forward on to the cat-ice. There was a cracking, rending sound, the ice split in all directions like a flawed mirror, and with one piercing terrified shriek Violet disappeared into a pool of water. Mildred was on her feet again in a moment, and grasped the situation in a flash. Crawling on her knees to the edge of the ice, she was able to seize Violet by the hand just as her cousin rose to the surface. But the weight of the two girls was too great for the thin plate of ice; again it cracked, and together they were plunged into the lake. Most mercifully Mildred did not lose her presence of mind. She could swim, and, supporting Violet, she was able to reach a rather thicker portion of the ice. This was not sufficiently firm to allow the girls to scramble upon its surface, but it afforded just enough hold for their fingers to enable them to keep their heads above water. By this time their screams had brought everybody hastening to the spot, and great was the alarm of the skaters at the sight of their peril. Mr. Douglas, a Scottish friend, who arrived first on the scene, at once took command.
"Keep back! Keep back!" he shouted to the distracted oncomers. "You'll only crack the ice and increase their danger. Fetch the ladder and the rope. Hold on, girls, for your lives! We'll have you out in a minute!"
Before his guests arrived that morning Sir Darcy had taken the precaution of causing a ladder and a long coil of rope to be laid on the bank in case of accident, and the wisdom of his proceeding was well justified. In less time than it takes to tell it, a dozen eager hands had seized the ladder, and, skating back with it at lightning speed, pushed it gently across the broken portion of the ice, so that at least its nearer end rested on a secure foundation. By its aid the girls managed to scramble from the water, and were drawn along over the more solid ice till eager hands could snatch them.
Dripping from their freezing plunge, and shivering with cold and fright, they were taken at once to The Towers, and put to bed with warmed blankets and hot-water bags. The party, in much consternation at the accident, broke up immediately, the various guests returning home. Sir Darcy and Lady Lorraine were greatly upset, and Mr. and Mrs. Somerville hardly less so. The doctor, who had been summoned at once by telephone, gave a good report of the invalids, however, and assured their anxious friends that they seemed likely to do well and take no harm from their wetting, quiet rest and warmth being all they required.
Mildred did not return home with the Fletchers, as had been arranged. Lady Lorraine would not permit her to leave The Towers until the doctor had seen her again and pronounced her fit to travel. Fortunately, owing to the remedies applied so speedily after their ducking, neither of the girls had caught cold or suffered any other ill effects.
"You might have told me you were going to make holes in the ice, and given me a chance to be there to rescue you!" said Rodney reproachfully to Mildred before she left. "That Scotch fellow stole a march on me!"
"I'll give you fair warning next time—if I'm ever so foolish again!" she laughed in reply. "I don't see how I'm to do it on the rink at Kirkton!"
"I'll go and look after you, just as a safeguard, if you'll tell me when you intend skating there. I'm due back at my diggings in a week. I always get Saturday afternoons free, you know."
Mildred left Castleford with regret, even though she was returning to her own dear Meredith Terrace.
"It's not that I don't love home best, Tantie," she was careful to assure Mrs. Graham. "But I've got fond of Westmorland too. There's one thing that's a supreme satisfaction to me—they say I saved Violet's life; and if I really did, it's surely some little return to Uncle Darcy and Aunt Geraldine for their kindness last summer. I always felt they were hurt at my leaving them, and I wanted to do something to make up. I'm so glad I got the opportunity—it mightn't come again in fifty years!"
The Spring Term at St. Cyprian's was a stormy one in several respects. The weather during the end of January and beginning of February was atrocious, and resulted for Miss Cartwright in a touch of pneumonia, which laid her aside for a while from her work. The College without its Principal was like a sheepfold without a shepherd; and though the teachers did their best, everybody felt the lack of the strong guiding hand that was accustomed to hold the reins. No sooner was Miss Cartwright back at her post than several girls developed mumps, and a strict period of quarantine followed for any companions who had been in their vicinity—an unexpected holiday which their parents deplored, and they themselves scarcely appreciated, as they were barred from all social intercourse until the due number of days had expired. Owing to this misfortune, and to a scare of measles at Newington Green, all Alliance matches and functions were postponed till the various schools could show clean bills of health, and even the making of charity garments was for the time prohibited.
The girls missed the Alliance meetings dreadfully. They had scarcely realized until now what an intense interest the League supplied, and how extremely flat the term felt without the pleasant competition of the other schools. They were constantly wondering how Templeton's hockey was progressing; if the new photographic club at Marston Grove had held its first exhibition; whether the Anglo-German had really taken up painting on satin; and how the High School Nature Study Union prospered.
"I believe we were fearfully narrow before, only we didn't know it," said Bess Harrison. "When the Alliance was first suggested, I'm sure we all thought it would be just an easy walk-over for St. Cyprian's in everything."
"We jolly soon found out our mistake!" murmured Kitty Fletcher, who was still smarting over a hockey match in which Newington Green had triumphed. "The Coll. has to look after herself, or take a back seat."
"Somehow it seems uncommonly tame without the others to spur us on," admitted Maudie Stearne.
"Isn't there anything we could do just to liven ourselves up till all these microbes have taken their departure, and we're once more labelled 'safe to meet'? Something, if possible, that the other schools won't have thought of, so that we can surprise them after Easter?"
"Well, of course if you're prepared to go in for prize-fighting or fortune-telling, or the making of artificial wax flowers, you might find an untrodden path, but I think most things have been pretty well exploited already."
"It must be lovely to go out as a missionary to the Cannibal Islands!" sighed Sheila Moore. "Just think of finding people who've never heard, say, of the Tango, and being able to show them how!"
"They'd soon tango you into their biggest fish kettle, you goose, and dance their original war steps while digesting you! A nice appetizing little morsel you'd be, I expect! Just like tender roast pork!"
"Pig yourself!" retorted Sheila.
"All the same, to go back to my original plaint," urged Bess, "we're pretty well kept within the bounds of our own Coll. this term, so why not do something on our own—something unique?"
"And I return to my original reply, that there isn't a solitary art or handicraft left unappropriated by the other schools," grunted Maudie.
"If we can't do something unique, let's do something commonplace," suggested Eve Mitchell.
"Why shouldn't we sew?" propounded Mildred.
"My sweet innocent, you forget that the garments we fashioned might convey the microbes of mumps to the slums! All such charitable enterprises are for the moment off."
"I'm afraid I wasn't thinking of charity. I've got an idea—yes, I have really! The school ought to own a banner. I thought at the Arts Show that it looked so ugly just to have a large card with 'St. Cyprian's College' hung up over our exhibits. It ought to be beautifully worked on silk or satin. Suppose we lead the way and make one? I expect the other schools would follow suit."
Mildred's idea appealed strongly to the girls. They considered that a banner would be a great acquisition to their College properties, and with Miss Cartwright's permission they determined to make one. Such a large and important piece of work naturally required much discussion and planning out. Designs were submitted by members of the Art class, and a select committee appointed to consider them. In the end they decided upon a white satin ground with an applique border of some conventional floral pattern. At the centre was to be a coat of arms with four quarterings, the British lion, the crowned unicorn that was the crest of the city of Kirkton, a group of iris, which they chose as the school flower, on the ground that signifying the rainbow it was emblematic of many virtues merged together, and in the last corner a lyre, showing their special bent towards the study of music. At the top "St. Cyprian's College" would appear in large letters, and at the bottom their motto: "Nulli Secundus". The border and the quarterings were to be worked separately in colours on pale-green satin, and appliquéd on after the lettering had been finished.
The border was so designed that it could be made in portions of about four inches square, each to be committed to different hands, and the quarterings also were to be done apart. By this division of labour more than thirty girls were able to help, and it was felt that the banner would be a united effort. By general vote Freda Kingston was given the lettering, and a small band of workers was chosen to stitch the various pieces together when finished.
"If any health inspectors think it likely to hold germs, we can have it disinfected," laughed Bess. "It's going to be absolutely gorgeous, and it's arousing such an amount of school patriotism in my breast that I'm prepared to brave any dangers and defend it to the last drop of my blood."
"I don't know whether I admire the ramping lion or the charging unicorn more. Ivy has given Mr. Leo such a beautifully savage and furious eye!" said Maudie.
"Apollo's lyre with its golden strings for me!" proclaimed Mildred. "Nina has made them so splendidly straight and taut, I'm sure they're in tune."
Naturally the construction of the banner was an affair of many weeks; but when it was at last completed it was really a very handsome object, and quite a work of art. It was placed on view in the lecture hall, and visited by crowds of admiring girls, after which it was put safely away in folds of tissue-paper, to be kept for some great occasion when it could do honour to St. Cyprian's.
"It will be a nice little surprise for the other schools when we trot it out at the next Alliance function!" exulted Bess.
"They'll be absolutely green with envy!" affirmed Ivy. "I prophesy they'll all try to go one better."
"Let them try, then! We shall have had first start, and they can't get over that, anyway."
"I expect it will end in all the schools joining in an Alliance banner."
"Then there'd be six quarterings, and that's not heraldic!"
"No, no, there'd be eight, because the British lion and the Kirkton unicorn would still have to come in, and each school could have its emblem or its flower."
"Right you are, my youthful Solomon!"
Like all other terms, the spring session came at last to an end. The sufferers from mumps and measles had returned to their respective schools duly armed with doctors' certificates, quarantine was over, and after the interval of the Easter holidays the Alliance was able to meet again, and pursue its various avocations with renewed vigour. It had been a great source of regret to Kitty Fletcher, as head of the Games department, that St. Cyprian's had had no opportunity of wiping the stain off its reputation in regard to hockey. By next season she would have left the College, and could no longer "lead her hosts to battle as of yore". She impressed upon Edna Carson, who would succeed her in office, the mission of supremacy in the hockey field, urging her to spare no efforts to make the team realize its responsibilities. Meantime she turned her attention to cricket, determined to do the best for St. Cyprian's in the one term which remained to her.
As she had prophesied, Rhoda Somerville was a great source of strength, and promised to rival Joan Richards in batting. Under Kitty's careful tuition she improved immensely, and the captain began to regard her new pupil with much complacency. Edna Carson, of "hat-trick" fame, Daisy Holt, nicknamed "the Lobster", and Peggie Potter were well up to their last year's form, so there seemed reasonable hope that the College would win its due share of matches. At tennis, too, it was not behindhand. Lottie and Carrie Lowman had come to the fore, and proved the best champions that St. Cyprian's had yet had. Lottie had a more than usually good opportunity for practice this summer. She had been unwell in the spring, and the doctor had advised that she should not attempt to go in for the matriculation, as had been intended, recommending as much outdoor exercise as possible. She gleefully took him at his word, and, curtailing her hours of home preparation, played singles with her sister Carrie till both reached a pitch of excellence that caused Kitty to purr with delight. As Games delegate Kitty did not approve of any girl trying to sit on two stools. She had sternly discouraged Daisy Holt and Peggie Potter from, as she said, "wasting valuable time at the courts"; but as the reproach had been thrown at her that she encouraged cricket to the detriment of tennis, she was thankful that two such champions had arisen to give their whole-hearted attention to the latter without drawing from the team of the former.
Mildred formed one of the rank and file at games; she had not the skill to excel, nor could she spare the hours required for practice. Her violin required all her present energies; Professor Hoffmann was inexorable in his demands, and kept her rigidly up to the mark. Her music time-sheet was now a very different affair from the irregular register she had shown when this story began, and was indeed the best in the school, not excepting that of Elizabeth Chalmers, who had always been held up as a model for slack workers to emulate.
Laura Kirby was concentrating all her powers on studying for a Girton scholarship under Miss Cartwright's special coaching, so, beyond a little tennis for exercise, she was too busy to think of maintaining the physical reputation of the College, though there was a feeling among the girls that she would probably establish an intellectual record, and cover the school with glory.
"I never saw anyone swot like you, Laura," said Lottie Lowman at one of the monitresses' meetings. "You're going ahead like a house on fire, and if you're not established in your own diggings at Girton by next October, I shall say the examiners cheated."
"That remains to be seen," replied Laura rather wearily. "I'm not the only one who's swotting, you may depend upon it, and some people's brains may be more curly than mine. Oh, but I should like to go to Girton! I'd a cousin there, and she used to make me just wild with her accounts. She said it was the time of her life. I shan't be content till I've taken my tripos."
"What will you do then?"
"I don't know. I'm ambitious. I'd like to be principal of a college some day, or else go in for scientific research work. Don't laugh!"
"We're not laughing. Why shouldn't you realize your ambition? We'll see you come out top yet!"
"I don't hanker after college," said Lottie, "but I just love tennis above everything, and I'd like to be county champion. I'm afraid I've not much chance—Carrie's really better than I am—but that's my dream. What's yours, Freda?"
"Oh, to be a great artist, of course; either to paint animals, like Rosa Bonheur, or to go in for book illustration, and make a special line for myself, like Kate Greenaway. I'm to study at the School of Art as soon as I leave St. Cyprian's. It will be blissful to do nothing but paint all day."
"If I can only scrape through the Froebel exams. I'm going to be a Kindergarten teacher and Games mistress both together. There are good openings for anyone who can combine the two, and it would just suit me. I'd like to get a post at a big High School where there are hundreds and hundreds of girls, then wouldn't I just train them at cricket and hockey, and pick my teams carefully—rather!" said Kitty.
"How about the Kindergarten part of the business?"
"Oh, that would be all right! I'm fond of kiddies, and should be quite at home amongst them."
"It's a very sad thing, but I've no ambitions," acknowledged Bess; "and I don't believe Maudie has either, except to turn her hair up. Confess now, Maudie, that's the summit of your dreams."
"Well, I don't want to go to Girton at any rate," laughed Maudie, "or to study at the School of Art, or teach Kindergarten. I guess we all know Mildred's vocation."
"Rather! If she doesn't study music it will be a criminal offence against the College. We look to her to be the star of St. Cyprian's, and have her name painted in special gold letters on the board in the lecture hall. Do you hear, Mildred? You've got to distinguish yourself, or perish in the attempt!"
"Don't expect too much from me, please. Perhaps I shall go off, and disappoint you horribly. Lots of people have assured me that youthful prodigies generally turn into nonentities when they're older."
"The sour-hearted brutes!"
"Well, it isn't encouraging, certainly, to be told so. But I don't care a button! I shall just go on working for the sake of the music. I love that, quite independently of success or failure."
One day when Mildred went for her violin lesson she found Herr Hoffmann in quite a state of excitement. He had a piece of news to communicate, and he was evidently brimming over with it. He began to tell it to her immediately she came into the room. He had learned only the evening before that Mr. Steiniger, the German gentleman who for many years had been president both of the Freiburg Concerts and the College of Music, and was now Mayor of Kirkton, wished to celebrate his year of mayoralty by encouraging musical talent in the city. He therefore offered a scholarship, tenable for three years in the Berlin Conservatoire, to the best student on any instrument. The conditions were simple. The candidate must be under twenty-one years of age, and must have resided in Kirkton for a period of not less than seven years. Either sex was equally eligible, and no preference would be given to those who had studied at any special school of music. The examination was to be held at the beginning of July, and the decision of the judges was to be final.
"It is as if it had been made for you! Yes, made for you!" urged the Professor. "Hitherto the musical scholarships in the city have only been obtainable through the Freiburg College, but this is open to all! You are under the age, you have resided more than seven years in Kirkton—I ask, then, what hinders?"
"My own incompetence," protested Mildred. "All the clever students in the city will be going in for it. Why, it would never be given to a girl of hardly seventeen. The thing's impossible!"
"Age is no matter!" grunted Herr Hoffmann. "I do not often praise you, but you can play what many who are older dare not attempt. You shall try it? Yes? I go myself to see your good aunt, and persuade her. Have I not always said that you should study in Berlin? Kalovski is now teaching at the Conservatoire. Himmel! It is the opportunity of a lifetime! He is the one master to whom I would send you."
Herr Hoffmann lost no time in visiting Dr. and Mrs. Graham, and advising them to allow their niece to go in for the scholarship. After thinking the matter over for a few days they agreed. There seemed no objection to her trying, and if she failed no harm would be done. An hour's extra practice daily the Professor required, but that could be arranged with Miss Cartwright, who was willing to let Mildred's music take the first place in her education, and who, they knew, would encourage her to enter as a candidate. Mildred herself was almost appalled at the prospect, but it was settled for her by her elders, so she was obliged to fall in with their plans. After all, the Professor's enthusiasm was infectious, and though she might not share his sanguine hopes, she was at least willing to try her best.
The test piece for the examination was the "Valse Triste" by Sibelius, and she set to work at once to wrestle with it. It was a composition that it would tax the powers of a first-rate concert player to render adequately, so she had no light task before her. Herr Hoffmann, in his anxiety for her to excel, alternately cajoled and raved, so that her lessons were a series of sunshine and storm. By this time, however, she knew her master's idiosyncrasies, and neither his impatience nor his bursts of temper could put her out. She had discovered what a kind heart he held under his rough manner, and was well aware that he spent an amount of time and trouble over her which was altogether above and beyond what could be expected by even the most exacting of pupils. So she worked away, trying to do justice to his tuition, but viewing it almost as a piece of presumption on her part to attempt the examination.
The weeks passed along quickly—too rapidly for the amount Mildred wished to do in them—and the beginning of July drew near. The candidates were to be examined in one of the smaller rooms at the Town Hall, the judges being Monsieur Diegeryck, a well-known Belgian violinist, Monsieur Stenovitch, a Russian pianist, and Mr. Steiniger himself.
"I shall fail, Tantie—I know I shall!" declared Mildred. "It's ridiculous my going in at all! I only do it to please you and the Professor. You wouldn't be satisfied if I didn't try. I only hope the judges won't crush me too utterly, and tell me it's wasting their time to listen to me. No, I'm not even nervous, because I feel the chance is too remote. If I'd greater expectations I should mind far more; as it is, I shall just play my piece in the best fashion I can, and accept any snubbing that's offered me afterwards. I've got to the point where I simply don't care."
"Then by all means let us leave it at that," said Mrs. Graham, who, after previous experiences of Mildred's apprehensions, had no wish to rouse fresh fears.
On the 4th of July, therefore, Mildred, fortified by the Professor's very latest instructions and directions, presented herself and her Stradivarius at the Town Hall at the time which had been appointed for her. She had to wait a few minutes while a piano student finished playing, but her turn came next, and she was very soon ushered into the examination room. She looked round eagerly. A Bechstein grand piano stood open, after the last candidate's ordeal, and Signor Marziani, one of the teachers at the Freiburg College, who was to play the accompaniments to the stringed instruments, was in the act of closing the top. Mildred had been very anxious to know who was to accompany her, and was rejoiced to find that it would be Signor Marziani, for she knew from Herr Hoffmann's accounts that he had a sympathetic touch, and was far more skilful at his task than Mr. Joynson, who shared the duty with him at most musical examinations in Kirkton. She glanced hurriedly at her three judges. Mr. Steiniger she had seen before—a pleasant, brown-bearded little man with kindly blue eyes; but the two others were strangers. Monsieur Diegeryck was a typical Belgian—big and fair and stout, with a bland smile that seemed to seek to reassure her; Monsieur Stenovitch, on the contrary, was thin and dark, with long hair and bushy eyebrows, under which a pair of keen eyes surveyed her with an almost cynical expression of criticism. All three had pencils and paper, and appeared to have been comparing notes on their reports of the performance of the last candidate. They composed themselves to listen, and Signor Marziani struck a few preliminary chords on the piano.
"Now for it!" thought Mildred. "Well! They can't do more than pluck me, and I'm quite prepared for it."
For perhaps the first time in her life she did not feel nervous before an audience of strangers. She played exactly as if she were having a lesson from the Professor, or practising in her bedroom at Meredith Terrace. She was surprised at her own confidence, and went through the Valse Triste so easily that it was over almost before she realized what she was doing. The judges looked at one another, but made no remarks. Each scribbled rapidly for a moment, then they told her that she might go, and bowed her politely from the room.
"How did you get on?" asked a student who was waiting outside.
"I haven't the least idea. They said nothing, but I expect I've failed. I can't flatter myself they looked encouraging. I'm only thankful they didn't squash me quite flat."
It would be a day or two before the result of the examination was made known, and Mildred waited, not exactly in suspense, for she was so sure of failure, but with the feeling that she would be glad to get the bad news over and done with. She minded the Professor's disappointment more than her own, for he had been the keener on the event.
On the Tuesday following, as she was sitting at drawing in the studio, she received a summons to the Principal's study, and, entering, found Miss Cartwright and Herr Hoffmann in animated conversation.
"Mildred, my dear child, we have to congratulate you!" began the headmistress smilingly.
"Did I not tell you, Freundchen, it was the chance of a lifetime?" beamed the Professor. "Hein! You shall see the letter for yourself."
"I—I—surely—is it true?" gasped Mildred, as she read the short but businesslike communication. "I can't believe it. Oh, have I really and truly and actually won the scholarship?"
St. Cyprian's decided that Mildred's success was so far the greatest triumph the College had had, and a worthy finish to a term in which they had beaten Newington Green at cricket and vanquished Marston Grove at tennis; and when later on came the news that Laura Kirby had won the Girton Scholarship, and that even Kitty Fletcher had managed to get a second class in her examination, Miss Cartwright felt the year's work had been eminently satisfactory. All her Sixth Form girls were leaving, some to continue their studies elsewhere, and others to find their vocations at home; but all carried away the warmest recollections of the school which had laid the foundations of their education, and many left a tradition of strenuousness which would be handed on to future monitresses, and so maintain the high tone which they had established.
Mildred was overwhelmed with amazement that she had been actually selected from among forty candidates to win Mr. Steiniger's open exhibition. She had hoped after leaving St. Cyprian's to study at the Freiburg College, or possibly at the Academy of Music in London, but to go to Berlin was a far higher opportunity. Herr Kalovski, one of the most celebrated violinists in Europe, was at present teaching at the Conservatoire, and through the powerful influence of Mr. Steiniger could be persuaded to receive her as a pupil, a privilege only conferred on a favoured few. As Herr Hoffmann had always founded his style on Kalovski's, it would be a particular advantage for Mildred to study under the latter, for she would not be required to change her present system of bowing, and though she would have much to learn she would not be put back to the very beginning, as might be the case if she selected a teacher with different methods. As the Professor had said, it was the chance of a lifetime. She was indeed young, but with Kalovski that was a point in her favour, not a drawback, for he was well known to confer his rather capricious interest upon those of his pupils who, were still in their teens.
Naturally the event was of supreme importance at Meredith Terrace. Mildred would be away for three years, or probably more, only returning to Kirkton for holidays, so it seemed a great break in her home life. But Dr. and Mrs. Graham had always intended her to take up a musical career, and resigned themselves to the parting as the inevitable consequence of their choice on her behalf. It was arranged that she was to board with a widowed sister of Herr Hoffmann, who lived in Berlin, and who promised to look after her as if she were her own daughter. Dr. and Mrs. Graham gave themselves a short holiday to escort their niece to Germany, and after a tour up the Rhine, which pleasure she shared with them, they returned to England, leaving her safely in charge of Frau Behrens.
September, therefore, saw Mildred settled at Bingen Strasse, 24, and beginning an entirely new phase in her existence. She had been taken to the Conservatoire and introduced to Herr Kalovski, who, after hearing her play, admitted that Herr Hoffmann had laid a good foundation, and formally consented to place her under his tuition. It was considered a great honour to become his pupil, so Mildred at once aroused interest at the Conservatoire, and found herself in the midst of a delightful musical coterie. It was a keen stimulus and inspiration to hear the playing of other students and masters, and to be able to attend some of the beautiful concerts and operas which were given almost every evening in the city. The quartet class, in which she was placed, helped her enormously, and also the class for reading at sight. The whole musical atmosphere of the place was a revelation to her; she was wild with enthusiasm, and wrote home such ecstatic accounts that her aunt was more than satisfied.
Kalovski proved a stern, even a severe teacher; but here Mildred's drilling under Professor Hoffmann stood her in good stead, and instead of trembling at his snubs and frequent tirades, she took them all as part of the lesson with perfect equanimity—a method of treating him which, she afterwards heard, raised her immensely in his estimation. She learnt much from Kalovski, for he was able to show her many technicalities only known to a virtuoso, and he would often play for her himself, which she found the best lesson of all. He was a strange man, like all great artists full of whims and caprices and moods, but he took a genuine interest in his English pupil, and in spite of his habitually peppery manner gave her great encouragement. After a time Mildred ventured to show him some of her own compositions, and here his deep knowledge of music was of great service to her, and the hints he gave her were of the utmost value. Gradually she came to be regarded as one of his favourite pupils, and though it was against his method to bestow praise, he began to regard her playing with complacency.
Mildred had had a fair knowledge of German before she came to Berlin, and with constant practice she soon spoke it fluently and easily. She was very happy with Frau Behrens, and readily adapted herself to German life, accepting all national differences as part of her education, learning to like strange dishes and to submit to many rules which Mrs. Graham would have laughed at, but which her chaperon considered absolutely necessary.
In this new and busy world time slipped rapidly away. The three years of her scholarship came to an end, but as Kalovski would not hear of parting with his pupil, her course was extended for two years more. Under her brilliant teacher Mildred not only gained a marvellous mastery over her instrument, but his personal magnetism was so inspiring that she won a new insight into music, and besides acquiring technique, grasped the spirit of true exposition. She worked indefatigably, and when at length her long period of training was finished, there were few students at the Conservatoire who could show such a record of all-round improvement.
She left Berlin with regret. Her stay there had been a memorable experience, and one which would last for the rest of her life. She had made many musical friendships, and for her teacher had formed the intense appreciation and reverence only yielded to a great artist whose ideals exceeded her own. Her time of sowing had indeed been of great promise, and she was now to return to reap the harvest.
During her absence from Kirkton Mildred had not dropped any of her old friends. She had corresponded regularly with the Somervilles and with several of her school chums, and had kept in touch with Miss Cartwright and the world of St. Cyprian's, enjoying the brief meetings that were possible during her holidays in England. The five years had brought changes to many of her former fellow monitresses and class-mates. Laura Kirby had taken a First in her tripos, and was now engaged in entomological research under a celebrated Cambridge professor—a form of work that exactly suited her, and for which she showed the greatest aptitude. Kitty Fletcher had passed through her training for Kindergarten teaching with credit, and had just found the post which she had always coveted, that of Kindergarten and Games mistress combined, in a large High School of eight hundred girls. Eve Mitchell had studied at the Women's Department of the Kirkton University, and had taken her B.A. degree. She was now a teacher at Newington Green, and doing well.
Bess Harrison and Maudie Stearne were both married, and Bess had a pretty little curly-headed boy to show proudly to her friends. Lottie Lowman was engaged to a gentleman in India, and her wedding was to take place very soon. Neither she nor Carrie had realized her dream of being county champion, but they were the best players in their tennis club, and greatly in request for local tournaments. Freda Kingston was in London, studying book illustration at a "black-and-white" studio, and Ivy Linthwaite was still working at the Kirkton School of Art. Elizabeth Chalmers was engaged to one of the piano masters at the Freiburg School of Music, and Edna Carson was married to a clergyman.
Rhoda Somerville had sustained a great loss in the death of her mother, and was now indispensable at home, looking after her father, and helping in the parish. Her three brothers had done well; Eric was just ordained, Diccon was at Oxford, and Rodney had a good berth with the Phœnix Motor Engineering Company in Kirkton. He was still a great favourite with Dr. and Mrs. Graham, and was always welcome at Meredith Terrace. His ingenuity and many original ideas, and his capacity for hard work were well appreciated by his firm, and there was every likelihood of his pushing on to a most successful business career.
Violet Lorraine had grown into a very beautiful and charming girl. She was much admired in society, and was very soon to be married to her old friend Maurice Tracy, whose father's estate adjoined Sir Darcy's. This engagement was highly satisfactory to her parents, for as Maurice was the eldest son the two properties would some day be united.
Mildred had returned from Berlin with the laurels of the Conservatoire. Her teachers recognized in her a genius such as they had found in few of even the most gifted pupils who had passed through their hands. Both in the brilliance of her execution and the beauty and originality of her compositions they considered she had few equals, and they had the highest hopes for her future success. It had been arranged that she was to make her debut at a recital at the Kirkton Town Hall. The opinion of her masters as to her talent being well known, her appearance was expected to cause quite a sensation, and was awaited with interest by the music-loving world. Professor Hoffmann rubbed his hands with delight at the sight of his pupil's name placarded on the hoardings, and could not conceal his satisfaction at the fulfilment of his desires.
"It was I who first taught you to bow!" he declared. "Ach! you were a little Mädchen then, and now you are so grown I scarce know you! Do you forget how you played at my Students' Concert? Himmel! You were afraid that night! But you made success, all the same. You told me your Stradivarius was your very good friend. Believe me, it will be so again!"
All Mildred's friends were to be present at the recital. Dr. and Mrs. Graham of course headed the list, the Lorraines and the Somervilles were coming to Kirkton on purpose for the occasion, Miss Cartwright was nearly as much excited as Herr Hoffmann, and St. Cyprianites both past and present were anxious to witness the success of their former schoolfellow.
The big Town Hall was filled to the last seat on the evening of the concert, and in the galleries there was barely even standing room for the many listeners who had thronged to hear the new and unknown performer. Every face was turned towards the platform, and a burst of applause greeted the appearance of the conductor, leading the young violinist who was that night to make her first bow to the public—a slight, girlish figure, whose wonderful dark eyes, soft gold hair, and very simple and unaffected, yet perfectly self-possessed, manner at once made a favourable impression. The vast audience listened with keen attention as, drawing her bow across the strings, she brought out the first liquid notes of Lalo's "Symphonie Espagnole". Her clear, full-blooded, luscious tone, southern in its depth and richness, bewitching, sad, sparkling, and bizarre by turns, served to show not only her exquisite mastery of the instrument, but her wonderful interpretation of the music she was playing. Such strength and yet such melting sweetness of tone, such lucid phrasing, and such delicate feeling for every nicety of accentuation and rhythm her listeners had never heard before, and they realized that they were in the presence of a performer of the very first rank. The short encore scarcely satisfied the zeal of the delighted audience, and Mildred was recalled again and again, till, growing desperate, the conductor was at last obliged to lead on the pianist whose solo was the next item on the programme.
In her second piece, the "Kreutzer Sonata" of Beethoven, Mildred was able to give even a better idea of the scope of her playing than had been possible in the "Symphonie". Her rendering of it was masterly in the fullest sense of the word—so independent and original a performance, with such faultless phrasing of the variations, such a high level of pure loveliness throughout, and such a glorious finale that the very spirit of Beethoven seemed to linger in the notes, and breathe through her beautiful and eloquent reading of the sonata. Warm as it had been before, the audience was now twice as enthusiastic, and deafening cheers began to ring through the hall when, for the third and last time in the evening, Mildred appeared with her violin upon the platform.
The fact that the "Legende" which she was about to play was her own composition raised the interest to its highest pitch, and all waited with anxiety to learn if this marvellous young performer were equally endowed with the gift that can create as well as interpret music. It was an ambitious theme—the story of Undine and the Knight—and it was unfolded with a strength and yet a delicacy of fancy, and a wealth of poetic feeling and imagination which almost took the breath away by the fire of its passion and the daring of its originality. It began very softly, conveying to the listeners the weird and uncanny impression of the haunted German forest; there was moonlight in the music, and the minor key gave that suggestion of sadness which was the motive of the "Legende". The wild fear of the supernatural, which caused the knight to urge his horse with frantic speed through these unknown shades, throbbed in the restrained power of the opening passages, and burst out into a panic of emotion as the vengeful phantom of the foaming waterfall dissolved itself into showers of spray between the rustling branches. The very essence of elvish roguery and frolic rang in the notes when "Undine", the lovely, wayward sylph, charmed the knight with her coquetry and unearthly beauty; the courtship of the changeling water-sprite, her wild whims, her light-hearted gaiety, the strange beings which ever accompanied her from the spirit world, and the sudden change in her bearing when at length she gains a human soul, were portrayed with such fidelity in the airy, elusive character of the music, that the whole of the tender love story seemed to live to the hearers. It was instinct with graceful and piquant fancy, carried out with an exquisite refinement of feeling which never degenerated into sentimentality. In the latter part, where "Undine", the unhappy wife, tries to appease her husband's anger, and to curb the revenge of the supernatural friends who resent her ill treatment, the dramatic fire of the composition rose to a pitch of surpassing grandeur, changing to a dirge-like wail of infinite sadness as, neglected and despised, the once bright sylph melts into the element from which she was first formed, the "Legende" breaking into a finale of such inspired pathos that it seemed as if the spirits of the air above and the water below were joining in a requiem for the soul that had been won at the cost of all earthly joy.
There was dead silence for a moment at the conclusion of the piece, then the audience broke into a roar of applause such as was not often heard in the Town Hall. People cheered and cheered yet again, clapping, stamping, shouting, waving their handkerchiefs, and standing on the seats in the wild enthusiasm of their approval. Bowing again and again at each fresh outburst, Mildred stood on the platform with quivering lips. She felt it was indeed a wonderful power that had been given her, to be able to sway so vast a gathering, to hold her listeners spellbound while she played, and to rouse them to such a height of intense feeling. It was beyond her wildest dreams of success. She had hoped for appreciation and perhaps applause, and she had met with an ovation only accorded to a great master of music.
She ran away at last from the excited crowd, for it appeared as if the cheering would never stop, and in the anteroom behind found a gathering of those friends who had come to wish her joy. To Dr. and Mrs. Graham, her nearest and dearest, to whom she owed the cultivation of her musical talent, she turned first in the hour of her triumph.
"I don't deserve it, Tantie!" she murmured. "They ought to cheer you instead. I should never have played at all if you hadn't made me. The praise is all due to you, and what you have done for me."
Mr. Steiniger was warm in his congratulations, and Herr Hoffmann, whose eyes were wet with emotion, held out his hand to Mildred, saying: "To tell you I am proud would be but a poor way to tell you what I feel. Ach! The 'Legende' was a masterpiece! You are a great exponent of your art, you have the soul of a poet, and the technique of a finished musician. I rejoice that it has been my privilege to take a share in your training. I now with reverence stand aside. The pupil is greater than the master. Go on to still more fame; you rise to heights where I cannot follow you."
Sir Darcy, Lady Lorraine, and Violet were all hearty and enthusiastic in their greetings. They realized at last the extent of Mildred's genius, and acknowledged the wisdom of having cultivated it. The Somervilles seemed as delighted at her reception as if she were one of their own family. Rodney said little, but his few words meant much; and Rhoda kissed Mildred like a sister. Miss Cartwright was overflowing with smiles.
"Your name is to be painted on our board of successes to-morrow," she declared. "You are indeed a credit to St. Cyprian's, and we are proud to count you as a former pupil."
As Mildred stood thus, the centre of so much congratulation and so many good wishes, she felt that she had indeed reaped a rich harvest for the perseverance and hard work of the last few years. It had been worth the doing, and her toil was repaid now a thousandfold. Her father's dying words came rushing into her memory: her strenuous effort should atone for the life which he had wasted so sadly. Surely she had discovered the Count's secret. The Stradivarius had in her hands been the key to fame and success, and at length she had entered into her inheritance.
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