Part 2 (1/2)
”Oh, don't stop, Hilda; go on. I am so happy,” whispered Judy back.
Hilda smiled, and immediately resumed the music which thrilled through and through Judy's soul.
Hilda was eighteen, and the full glory and bloom of this perfect age surrounded her; it shone in her dark red-brown hair, and gleamed in her brown eyes, and smiled on her lips and even echoed from her sweet voice.
Hilda would always be lovely to look at, but she had the tender radiance of early spring about her now. Judy was not the only person who thought her the fairest creature in the world.
While she was playing, and the influence of the music was more and more filling her face, there came a shadow across the church door. The shadow lengthened and grew longer, and the young man, whose smile Judy had ignored, came softly across the church and up to Hilda's side.
”Go on playing,” he said, nodding to her. ”I have been waiting and listening. I can wait and listen a little longer if you will allow me to sit in the church.”
”I shall have done in a moment,” said Hilda. ”I just want to choose something for the final voluntary.” She took up a book of lighter music as she spoke, and selecting some of Haydn's sweet and gracious melodies, began to play.
Judy stirred restlessly. Jasper Quentyns came closer, so close that his shadow fell partly over the child as she lay on the ground, and quite shut away the evening sunlight as it streamed over Hilda's figure.
Jasper was a musician himself, and he made comments which were listened to attentively.
Hilda played the notes as he directed her. She brought added volume into certain pa.s.sages, she rendered the light staccato notes with precision.
”Oh, you are spoiling the playing,” said Judy suddenly. She started up, knitting her black brows and glaring angrily at Jasper Quentyns.
”You don't mean to say you are here all the time, you little puss,” he exclaimed. ”I thought you and Miss Mills and Babs were miles away by now. Why, what's the matter, child? Why do you frown at me as if I were an ogre?”
Hilda put her arm round Judy's waist. The contact of Hilda's arm was like balm to the child; she smiled and held out her hand penitently.
”Of course I don't think you are an ogre,” she said, ”but I do wish you would let Hilda play her music her own way.”
”Oh, don't talk nonsense, Judy,” said Hilda; ”you quite forget that Mr.
Quentyns knows a great deal more about music than I do.”
”He doesn't play half nor quarter as well as you, for all that,” replied Judy, with emphasis.
Hilda bent forward and kissed her little sister on her forehead.
”We won't have any more music at present,” she said, ”it is time for us to return to the house. You are going to dine at the Rectory this evening, are you not, Mr. Quentyns?”
”If you will have me.”
”Of course we shall all be delighted to have you.”
”Hilda,” said Judy, ”do you know that Mildred Anstruther is down at the house waiting to see you?”
A faint shadow of disappointment flitted across Hilda Merton's face--an additional wave of color mounted to Jasper Quentyns' brow. He looked at Hilda to see if she had noticed it; Hilda turned from him and began to arrange her music.
”Come,” she said, ”we mustn't keep Mildred waiting.”
”What has she come for?” asked Jasper, as the three walked down the shady avenue.
”You know you are glad to see her,” replied Hilda suddenly.
Something in her tone caused Jasper to laugh and raise his brows in mock surprise. Judy looked eagerly from one face to the other. Her heart began to beat with fierce dislike to Jasper. What right had he to interfere with Hilda's music, and above all things, what right, pray, had he to bring that tone, into Hilda's beloved voice?