Part 23 (1/2)

She was very far from expecting any invasion of her solitude, and when after a moment or two she went on with her sweeping she had no suspicion of another presence in the dark building. She had set herself resolutely to finish her task, and so energetic was she that she heard no sound of feet along the aisle behind her.

Some unaccountable impulse induced her to pause at length and still kneeling, brush in hand, to throw a backward glance along the nave. Then it was that she saw a man's figure standing on the chancel-steps, and so unexpected was the apparition that her weary nerves leapt with violence out of all proportion to the event, and she sprang to her feet with a startled cry that echoed weirdly through the empty place. Then with a rush of self-ridicule she recognized Piers Evesham. ”Oh, it is you!” she said. ”How stupid of me!”

He came straight to her with an air of determination that would brook no opposition and took the brush out of her hand. ”That's not your job,” he said. ”You go and sit down!”

She stared at him in silence, trying to still the wild agitation that his unlooked-for coming had raised in her. He was wearing a heavy motor-coat, but he divested himself of this, and without further parley bent himself to the task of which he had deprived her.

Avery sat down somewhat limply on the pulpit-stairs and watched him. He was very thorough and far brisker than she could have been. In a very few minutes the litter was all collected, and Piers turned round and looked back at her across the dim chancel.

”Feeling better?” he said.

She did not answer him. ”What made you come in like that?” she asked.

He replied to the question with absolute simplicity. ”I've just brought Gracie home again. She asked me to tea in the schoolroom, but you weren't there, and they said I should find you here, so I came to fetch you.”

He moved slowly across and stood before her, looking down into her tired eyes with an odd species of relentlessness in his own.

”It's an infernal shame that you should work so hard!” he said, with sudden resentment. ”You're looking f.a.gged to death.”

Avery smiled a little. ”I like hard work,” she said.

”Not such as this!” said Piers. ”It isn't fit for you. Why can't the lazy hound do it himself?”

Her smile pa.s.sed. ”Hush, Piers!” she said. ”Not here!”

He glanced towards the altar, and she thought a shade of reverence came into his face for a moment. But he turned to her again immediately with his flas.h.i.+ng, boyish smile.

”Well, it isn't good for you to overwork, you know, Avery. I hate to think of it. And you have no one to take care of you and see you don't.”

Avery got up slowly. Her own face was severe in the candlelight, but before she could speak he went lightly on.

”Would you like me to play you something before we go? Or are you too tired to blow? It's rather a shame to suggest it. But it's such a grand opportunity.”

Avery turned at once to the organ with a feeling of relief. As usual she found it very hard to rebuke him as he deserved.

”Yes, I will blow for you,” she said. ”But it must be something short, for we ought to be going.”

She sat down and began to blow.

Piers took his place at once at the organ. It was characteristic of him that he never paused for inspiration. His fingers moved over the keys as it were by instinct, and in a few moments Avery forgot that she was tired and dispirited with the bearing of many burdens, forgot all the problems and difficulties of life, forgot even her charges at the Vicarage and the waiting schoolroom tea, and sat wrapt as it were in a golden mist of delight, watching the slow spreading of a dawn such as she had never seen even in her dreams. What he played she knew not, and yet the music was not wholly unfamiliar to her. It waked within her soul harmonies that vibrated in throbbing response. He spoke to her in a language that she knew. And as the magic moments pa.s.sed, the wonderful dawn so grew and deepened that it seemed to her that all pain, all sorrow, had fallen utterly away, and she stood on the threshold of a new world.

Wider and wider spread the glory. There came to her an overwhelming sense of greatness about to be revealed. She became strung to a pitch of expectancy that was almost anguish, while the music swelled and swelled like the distant coming of a vast procession as yet unseen. She stood as it were on a mountain-top before the closed gates of heaven, waiting for the moment of revelation.

It came. Just when she felt that she could bear no more, just when the wild beating of her heart seemed as if it would choke her, the music changed, became suddenly all-conquering, a paean of triumph, and the gates swung back before her eager eyes.

In spirit she entered the Holy Place, and the same hand that had admitted her lifted for her the last great Veil. For one moment of unutterable rapture such as no poor palpitating mortal body could endure for long, the vision was her own. She saw Heaven opened....

And then the Veil descended, and the Gates closed. She came down from the mountain-top, leaving the golden dawn very far behind her. She opened her eyes in darkness and silence.

Someone was bending over her. She felt warm hands about her own. She heard a voice, sudden and imploring, close to her.

”Avery! Avery darling! For G.o.d's sake, dear, speak to me! What is it?