In my absorption I had lost the sense of time, and I
was amazed to find that it was five o'clock, but I resolved
to go into the chapel before going home.
The way up was clear enough, and I was soon in the
vestibule. I opened the door, expecting to find a service
in progress; but the little church was empty save where,
at the right of the chancel, an organist was filling the
church with the notes of a triumphant march. Cap in
hand I stole forward and sank down in one of the
pews.
A lamp over the organ keyboard gave the only light
in the chapel, and made an aureole about her head,-
about the uncovered head of Olivia Gladys Armstrong!
I smiled as I recognized her and smiled, too, as I remembered
her name. But the joy she brought to the
music, the happiness in her face as she raised it in the
minor harmonies, her isolation, marked by the little isle
of light against the dark background of the choir,-
these things touched and moved me, and I bent forward,
my arms upon the pew in front of me, watching and
listening with a kind of awed wonder. Here was a
refuge of peace and lulling harmony after the disturbed
life at Glenarm, and I yielded myself to its solace with
an inclination my life had rarely known.
There was no pause in the outpouring of the melody.
She changed stops and manuals with swift fingers and
passed from one composition to another; now it was an
august hymn, now a theme from Wagner, and finally
Mendelssohn's Spring Song leaped forth exultant in the
dark chapel.
She ceased suddenly with a little sigh and struck
her hands together, for the place was cold. As she
reached up to put out the lights I stepped forward to
the chancel steps.
"Please allow me to do that for you?"
She turned toward me, gathering a cape about her.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" she asked, looking about quickly.
"I don't remember-I don't seem to remember-that
you were invited."
"I didn't know I was coming myself," I remarked
truthfully, lifting my hand to the lamp.
"That is my opinion of you,-that you're a rather unexpected
person. But thank you, very much."
She showed no disposition to prolong the interview,
but hurried toward the door, and reached the vestibule
before I came up with her.
"You can't go any further, Mr. Glenarm," she said,
and waited as though to make sure I understood.
Straight before us through the wood and beyond the
school-buildings the sunset faded sullenly. The night
was following fast upon the gray twilight and already
the bolder planets were aflame in the sky. The path
led straight ahead beneath the black boughs.
"I might perhaps walk to the dormitory, or whatever
you call it," I said.