Part 10 (1/2)

”I will go on; I will work,” she said to herself. ”If I can be a great woman, I will.”

CHAPTER XIII

THE TURNING POINT OF HER LIFE

Mrs. George's opinion of Sarah's violin-playing proved to be the turning point of her life as a violin-player. A few days later, when Mr. and Mrs. Stubbs had returned from Dieppe, she gave a large afternoon reception, to which Sarah took her violin, and played--her best. And the visitors--elegant ladies and gentlemen--crowded round the child, and would have turned her head with praises, had it not been such a sensible little head that they had no sort of effect upon it.

”They talked such a lot,” she said to her aunt afterwards, ”that I felt frightened at first; but I found that they didn't really know much about it, for one of my strings got flat, and they praised that more than anything.”

But her aunt, Mrs. Stubbs, was proud enough and elated enough for a dozen violin-players, and she stood beside Sarah, explaining who she was and how she was going to have lessons from the best master they could get, until Mrs. George felt sick to think that her grand friends should know ”that dreadful woman” was a relation of hers.

”Sarah, my dear, Lady Golladay wishes you to play again. Something pathetic.”

So Sarah tuned up again, and Mrs. Stubbs was silent.

”She _can't_ talk when the child is playing,” murmured Mrs. George to her husband. ”Do take her down to have some tea or something, and keep her as long as you can--anything to keep her out of sight.”

”All right,” he answered, and immediately that Sarah's melody came to an end, followed by a burst of applause, he offered his arm to his sister-in-law, and begged her to go with him and have some refreshments.

This reception completely opened Mrs. Stubbs's eyes, and she went back to London strangely impressed with a belief that Sarah was not only a genius, but a new fas.h.i.+on. She gave a party, too--not an afternoon party, for she wanted her husband to be there, and he was never at home before six o'clock. No, it was not an afternoon, but an evening party, at which the elder children were all present, and at which Sarah played.

And then Sarah began with her violin lessons, and worked hard, very hard. Mrs. George wrote from Brighton that she would provide all the new music she required, and that her Uncle George enclosed a sovereign for herself.

So time went on. Sarah had two lessons a week, and improved daily in her playing. Tom went back to school, and Johnnie with him, and Flossie's turbulent spirit became a good deal subdued, though she never forgot to keep Sarah reminded that she was ”Princess Sarah of Nowhere.”

The weeks rolled into months, and months into years. Miss Clark went away and got married--to May's mingled sorrow and delight, and to Flossie's unfeigned and unutterable disgust--for Mrs. Stubbs chose a lady to fill her place, who was what she called ”a strict disciplinarian,” and Flossie had considerably less freedom and fun than she had aforetime. For Miss Best had not only a strong mind and a strong will, but also a remarkably strong body, and seemed able to be on the alert at all times and seasons. She had, too, not the smallest objection to telling tales in school or out of it. The slightest infringement of her rules was visited with heavy punishment in the form of extra lessons, and the least attempt to s.h.i.+rk them was reported to headquarters immediately. In fact, Miss Best was a power, a power to be felt and feared, and Flossie did both accordingly.

Of all her pupils, Sarah was Miss Best's favourite. In her she recognised the only worker. May was good-tempered, and possessed the blessing of a placid and dignified disposition; but May's capacity for learning was not great, and Miss Best soon found that it was no use trying to drive her a shade faster along the royal road to knowledge.

She went at a willing jog-trot; she could not gallop because she had not the power. With Flossie it was different. Flossie had brilliant capacities which she would not use. Miss Best was determined that she should use them and exert them. Flossie was equally determined that she would not; and so for the first few months life in the Stubbs's schoolroom was a hand-to-hand fight between Flossie and Miss Best; and Miss Best came off winner.

Yet, though she got the better of Flossie and made her work, she never gave her the same place in her heart that she gave to Sarah, who worked with all her heart and soul, because she was impressed with the idea that if she only worked hard enough she might be a great woman one day.

And as she was a favourite with Miss Best, so was she a favourite with Signor Capri, the master who taught her the violin. He was quick to recognise the true artist soul that dwelt within her, and gave her all the help that lay in his power; in fact, Sarah was his favourite pupil, his pet, and he put many chances of advancement toward her great ambition in her way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Sarah was his favourite pupil.]

For instance, many times he took her out with him to play at concerts and private houses, so that she might grow accustomed to playing before an audience of strangers and also that she might become known.

And known very soon Sarah was, and welcomed to many a n.o.ble house for the sake of the exquisite sounds she was able to draw from the strings of the Amati. Besides that, Sarah was a very pretty child, and, as she grew older, was an equally pretty girl. She never had that gawky legginess which distinguishes so many girls in their teens--there was nothing awkward about her, nothing rough or boisterous. All her movements were soft and gentle; her voice was sweet, and her laugh very musical, but not loud; and with her tall, slim figure, and the great, grey, earnest eyes looking out from under the s.h.i.+ning ma.s.ses of sunny hair, she was, indeed, an uncommon-looking girl, and a great contrast to the young Stubbses, who were all short, and inclined to be stout, and had twine-coloured hair, and pale, pasty complexions; though, in spite of that, they all had, like their mother, a certain bonniness which made them pleasant looking enough.

Sarah had been nearly four years living at Jesamond Road, where Mrs.

Stubbs's home was, when May ”came out.” May was then nearly eighteen, and just what she had been when Sarah first saw her--placid, good-tempered, and obliging, not very quick in mind, nor yet in body; willing to take advantage of every pleasure that came in her road, but not willing to give herself the smallest trouble that other people might have pleasure too. She was very different to Flossie, who was a regular little spitfire, and had neither consideration for, nor fear of, anything on earth, except Miss Best, whom she detested, but whom she dared not openly defy; if she had dared, Flossie would have done it.

As for Tom, he was beyond the control of anybody in that house, excepting his father. He was wilder, rougher, more unmerciful, and more impudent than ever; and whenever Tom's holidays drew near, Sarah used to quake for fear lest her precious Amati should not survive the visit; and invariably she carried it to the cupboard in Miss Best's room for safety. Happily, into that room Master Tom did not presume to put even so much as the tip of his nose.