THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 / 
 
 X? 
 
 / 
 
 THE CLIMAX
 
 ; IS THIS THE END?"- -Page 35
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE C.,JENKS 
 
 FROM THE CELEBRATED PLAY OF THE SAME NAME BY 
 
 EDWARD LOCKE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 W. W. FAWCETT 
 
 New York 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 Publishers
 
 Copyright 1909, by 
 THE H. K. FLY COMPANY.
 
 
 THE SONG OF A SOUL 
 
 Every soul hath it's song 
 
 It's melody divine, 
 Eising to ecstasy, 
 
 And so hath mine. 
 'Just let me sing my song divine 
 
 Or I shall die of sorrow. 
 
 A star in yonder sky 
 Invites this soul of mine 
 
 'To lift it's voice on high 
 In melody divine. 
 
 There's promise in that star a sign 
 Of hope and peace to-morrow.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Is This the End? Frontispiece 
 
 "Play Your Old Exercises Yourself" 248 
 
 "One in a Thousand" ..... 285 
 
 Like Old Times, Eh?" 3*6
 
 CHAPTER I 
 "Give me some music." 
 
 Azalia lay somnolent in the afternoon still 
 ness. In Southern Ohio there are days in mid-June 
 when not only the vegetation shrinks and shrivels 
 before the heat-waves, but the very snake-fences, 
 a prominent feature of the landscape in that region, 
 seem to squirm more tortuously, like steel rails in 
 a blast-furnace. This was such an afternoon. The 
 sunshine swooped down mercilessly on the exposed 
 places, and tried to force its way into the cool 
 creek-bottoms, where the swamp-grass and cat-tails 
 swayed lazily in the slow-moving waters/and bum 
 ble-bees buzzed about the flag-lilies. It was only 
 partly successful. To be sure, points and patches 
 of restless yellow light darted here and there, after 
 playing hide-and-seek among the leaves and 
 branches of the willows and sycamores. But they 
 hardly disturbed the shadows gathered in the hol 
 lows, and did not even dry the stones where they 
 had been splashed by the stream as it flowed lazily 
 by on its way to the distant river. 
 
 9
 
 io THE CLIMAX 
 
 The white road which stretched away from the 
 end of Main street in a long and dusty perspective 
 between the green potato fields, until it swung out 
 of sight around Hunter's barn, seemed to be smok 
 ing in the heat, for there was a haze that made the 
 eyes smart if one watched it for a few moments. 
 Not that anyone was watching it. The five hun 
 dred inhabitants of Azalia all had enough to do 
 without staring along the pike on a blistering hot 
 afternoon. Any of the industrious gentlemen talk 
 ing politics in a maddening monotone in Rundell's 
 grocery, which was also the postoffice, could have 
 told you that. 
 
 Azalia was an all-fired busy place, especially 
 on market days. Why, Granger's Hotel, which 
 reared its straggling, clap-boarded bulk in the 
 square where the street ended and the pike began, 
 sometimes had as many as fifteen farmers for din 
 ner, and then there would be such a hurly-burly 
 of queer vehicles hitched outside muddy or dusty, 
 according to the state of the weather that they 
 blocked up all that part of town. 
 
 On this day, although no strangers were in 
 Azalia, and the streets seemed asleep, there was ac 
 tivity enough within doors chiefly in the nature 
 of gossip. Things unusual were happening, or 
 about to happen. Even the politicians at Rundell's
 
 THE CLIMAX 11 
 
 occasionally dropped their droning discussion of the 
 next State election, which would not take place 
 until November, to talk about matters of much 
 nearer interest at least, in point of time. 
 
 Professor Theophilus Cooper, of Columbus, 
 was announced to lecture that evening, at the 
 Town Hall, on hypnotism, thought transference, 
 mental suggestion, and kindred phenomena, and it 
 was understood that the learned gentleman would 
 hypnotize anyone in the audience willing to sub 
 mit himself for the experiment. This was one 
 topic that had stirred up all Azalia. Another was 
 the rumor that the music committee of St. Jude's 
 Church, now in session, contemplated an important 
 change in the personnel of the quartette choir. 
 
 Nearly everybody in Azalia attended St. 
 Jude's, and the pastor, the Reverend Thomas Tread- 
 house, was an important personage in a mild way. 
 Mrs. Thomas Treadhouse (Susan was her Christian 
 name) exerted considerable influence that was not 
 so mild. Particularly was this felt in the choir. 
 She had taken vocal lessons in Cincinnati for one 
 term before her marriage, and, on the strength of 
 that brief period of instruction, had insisted on reg 
 ularly exercising her thin soprano, with its irritat 
 ing tremolo, as a member of the quartette. St. Jude's 
 had always been proud of the musical part of its
 
 12 THE CLIMAX 
 
 service, and although Heinrich Von Hagen, the or 
 ganist, middle-aged and matter-of-fact, took little 
 heed of the work of the singers, so long as their 
 time was correct, the soprano had been a thorn in 
 the side of the music committee ever since Mrs. 
 Treadhouse had forced herself into the vacancy 
 made by the marriage and departure of her prede 
 cessor. The grumblings of the committee had 
 reached Mrs. Treadhouse, of course. But she did 
 not care. Who were the music committee, she 
 would like to know? more or less shrilly. Now, 
 unless rumor was at fault, the question was likely 
 to be answered to her discomfiture, that very after 
 noon. 
 
 Down at Rundell's there was only a languid 
 interest in music. The parliament, curled up on 
 cracker-boxes or leaning wearily against the coun 
 ter, soon exhausted its surmises as to what the 
 music committee would do, and when Daddy 
 Wylie, father of Joe Wylie, the blacksmith, seated 
 on a last year's cider-keg, the wooden faucet still 
 in it, suddenly brought up the subject of Pro 
 fessor Cooper's promised entertainment, the other 
 members of the conclave all perked up, eager for 
 controversial battle. 
 
 "Talkin' about this here mental suggestion," 
 croaked Daddy, "I don't take no stock in it. I say
 
 THE CLIMAX 13 
 
 that hyp-no-tism and thought transfusion and all 
 them things is just a money-making scheme." 
 
 "Oh, I dunno," objected Wilkins, the tailor, 
 slowly not that he really differed from the senti 
 ments expressed, but because it was the custom at 
 Rundell's to stimulate argument by taking the op 
 posite side. 
 
 "Oh, you don't, eh?" snapped Daddy. "Well, 
 now what's this here pro-fessor comin' to the Town 
 Hall for? Why, to get money. I don't need no 
 mental suggestion to learn me that. We folks '11 
 pay to go in, and he'll get the coin and keep it 
 that is, most of it. He'll have to pay the hall-rent, 
 of course." 
 
 "There ain't no denying that part of it," ac 
 quiesced Wilkins, grimly. "No one's coming here 
 to use our muneeceepal building for nothing." 
 
 A sonorous, masterful voice broke in here with : 
 
 "All that doesn't say the theory of mental sug 
 gestion is baseless, or that a person of strong will 
 cannot direct the thoughts of another into any 
 channel he pleases." 
 
 It was Solomon Potter, the undertaker, popu 
 larly credited at Rundell's and elsewhere with being 
 an exceedingly well-read man, who had thus 
 spoken. Mr. Potter was also the sexton of St. 
 Jude's Church.
 
 14 THE CLIMAX 
 
 Wilkins glanced sharply at Daddy Wylie, to 
 see how he took this crusher, but that veteran on 
 the field of disputation was not dismayed. 
 
 "I'd jest like to see that there pro-fessor make 
 me think anything I don't want to. Neither him 
 nor no other man can do it," was his dogged re 
 joinder. 
 
 As Daddy Wylie was conceded to be the most 
 obstinate individual in Azalia where pig-headed- 
 ness was regarded as a virtue which everybody 
 sought to attain most of his listeners nodded ener 
 getic assent. 
 
 "Well, Dad, it might be so in your case," put 
 in Dave Rundell, who, busily weighing sugar, had 
 not taken part in the conversation heretofore. "But 
 I seen Doc Raymond make some passes behind 
 Heinrich Von Hagen, just as he come out of the 
 organ-gallery, last Sunday, when Von was waiting 
 for his daughter, and Doc wanted to see her home 
 himself, and what do you think happened?" 
 
 "What?" growled Daddy, pushing up the tuft 
 of white hair on his chin with the ends of his skinny 
 fingers, resentfully. "What did happen?" 
 
 "Why, Von Hagen marched out of the church 
 without even looking behind him, and Doc took 
 Adelina home, just as he'd wanted to." 
 
 Daddy Wylie expectorated thoughtfully into
 
 THE CLIMAX 15 
 
 the open door of the big empty stove in the middle 
 of the store. 
 
 "I don't see nothin' in that to prove there was 
 hyp-no-tism," he snorted. "Von just nat'rally got 
 tired of waitin' for the gal. That's all there was 
 to it." 
 
 Rundell shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Maybe you're right, Dad. But it looks to me 
 as if Doc Raymond was influencing Heinrich Von 
 Hagen's mind to make him do something he hadn't 
 meant to do at first. I didn't ask Doc, and he never 
 said a word to me about it. But I know he's might 
 ily interested in the subject of mental suggestion. 
 Besides, what did he spread out his hands behind 
 Heinrich for, if he wasn't trying to work on his 
 brain without him knowing it?" 
 
 "He might have been brushing a fly off the old 
 man's bald head. Haw, haw, haw !" 
 
 Daddy guffawed, wheezed and choked at his 
 own delicate conceit, and all the others, except 
 Rundell and Potter, laughed in sympathy, for 
 Daddy's humor, while subtle, was also extremely 
 rich. It was just of the kind to appeal to the as 
 sembled company. Dad knew his Azalia. 
 
 While Daddy Wylie thus disposed of telepathy 
 for ever in a gale of derision, a dust-cloud, with a 
 horse and buggy in the middle of it, came rolling
 
 16 THE CLIMAX 
 
 toward town over the white-hot road between the 
 potato-fields. The horse was moving along at a 
 businesslike trot, the broad-shouldered young man 
 cramped up in the buggy-seat keeping the reins at 
 an easy tension, which, without hampering the 
 horse's gait, never let him forget that a master was 
 behind him. 
 
 INot bad-looking was this young man driving 
 into Azalia in the dust. Some folk considered him 
 handsome, and certainly his face had a rugged 
 strength, expressed in the straight nose, rather high 
 cheek-bones and well-developed chin, which was 
 not without manly charm. Perhaps the mouth 
 might have been larger. Somehow, when consid 
 ered in conjunction with his chin, it suggested that 
 he might nurse an extensive set of prejudices which 
 he was prepared to defend against all comers at any 
 time. But this defect if it was a defect was off 
 set by large, thoughtful brown eyes, in which 
 might be read kindly toleration of other people's 
 false convictions, although he never could be in 
 duced to share them. There was intellectual ca 
 pacity behind the broad forehead, and the goodly 
 space between the eyes denoted a prompt and firm 
 grasp of admitted facts. John Raymond was his 
 name. He was the "Doc" referred to by Dave Run-
 
 THE CLIMAX 17 
 
 dell as the hero of the mental suggestion incident 
 in St. Jude's Church. 
 
 He pulled up in front of Granger's Hotel, and, 
 jumping out of the buggy, stretched himself luxuri 
 ously. Sammy Granger, the nineteen-year-old son 
 of the proprietor, hoisted himself from a wooden 
 arm-chair tilted against the house, where he had 
 been lazily watching Raymond's approach, and 
 threaded his way slowly among half a dozen other 
 chairs scattered about, until he brought up, yawn 
 ing, at the horse's head. 
 
 "Hello, Doc! Been over to Hunter's? How's 
 the kid?" 
 
 There was only the faintest curiosity in 
 Sammy's tone. It was too hot for powerful emo 
 tions, especially on behalf of other people. 
 
 "The boy's all right," returned John Raymond, 
 cheerily. "No bones broken. Only a few bruises. 
 He was more frightened than hurt." 
 
 "I guess he won't climb a cherry-tree again for 
 a while," opined Sammy, preparing to lead the 
 horse, buggy and all, toward the stable. 
 
 "I don't know. It takes more than a tumble 
 like that to revolutionize boyish instincts primor 
 dial, probably," laughed Raymond. "I'm afraid 
 he'll be up in that tree again within forty-eight
 
 18 THE CLIMAX 
 
 hours, although no doubt the accident will make 
 him a little more careful for a few days." 
 
 "He'd better. Them durned cherry-tree limbs 
 are the brittlest wood I know. A feller has to 
 
 watch himself when he's after cherries. Remember 
 them two ribs of mine you helped to fix up, Doc?" 
 
 "Yes, you were a very sick boy for a while, 
 Sam." 
 
 "That's what I was," assented Sammy, dole 
 fully. "I ain't got no use for cherries to this day." 
 
 "Are you going to the lecture to-night?" asked 
 Raymond, seeking a more cheerful subject. 
 
 "What me stay away from a good show?" 
 yelped Sammy, with a knowing chuckle. "You bet 
 I'm going. Why, a hardware drummer who was 
 here last week said he went to the lecture in Zanes- 
 ville, and it was better than a circus. Professor 
 Cooper made one man believe he was deef-and- 
 dumb. An auctioneer he was, and a gabby one at 
 that. But when the Professor told him he couldn't 
 speak gee ! he couldn't make a peep not a 
 sound. Then he had fellows standing on their 
 heads, and crawling about the floor, and doing all 
 sorts of stunts. It must be fine. I wouldn't miss 
 it for a farm. You'll be there, I s'pose?" 
 
 "Very likely," was the careless response of the 
 young doctor, as he turned away.
 
 THE CLIMAX 19 
 
 John Raymond, sauntering down Main street, 
 pondered over what Sammy Granger had told him 
 about Professor Cooper's achievements in Zanes- 
 ville. He was much more interested than his off 
 hand manner had indicated. The upshot of his re 
 flections was that he resolved to have a little con 
 versation with the Professor after his lecture that 
 evening, if possible. Then his thoughts took a 
 new direction. The vision of a young girl, with 
 golden-brown hair and blue-gray eyes, blotted out 
 everything else, and he quickened his steps along 
 the red-brick sidewalk with a smile of pleasant 
 anticipation. 
 
 Two blocks from the hotel he turned to the 
 left, under an arcade of elms that over-arched the 
 thoroughfare from fence to fence, and where the 
 scent of roses, carnations, pansies and honeysuckles 
 mingled with the softer fragrance of green leaves 
 and meadow-grass. The frame houses some of 
 the more pretentious topped off with the mansard 
 roofs which were the architectural rage when many 
 of Azalia's present residences came into being all 
 stood far back from the street, half hidden by rose 
 and lilac bushes behind the low picket-fences. 
 
 Crunching his way over the cinder-path on the 
 right-hand side of the street for twenty yards or 
 so, the young man stopped suddenly. He had
 
 20 THE CLIMAX 
 
 heard a canary singing vigorously ever since he 
 turned the corner, and the smile had deepened on 
 his face, for he knew where the bird was, even be 
 fore he made it out, in its brass cage, hanging under 
 a porch nearly smothered by a crimson rambler. 
 He placed his hand on a garden-gate that had 
 swung open across the path, and listened. 
 
 "I thought I couldn't be mistaken," he mur 
 mured. "It is Adelina." 
 
 Clear and sweet, high above the notes of the 
 canary, but always in harmonious cadence, arose a 
 continuous trill in a girl's fresh young voice. It 
 was a challenge, which the bird took up at once. 
 Louder and louder he sang, but always the trill 
 accompanied him, every accent distinct, liquid and 
 true. Sometimes the tones from the two singers 
 were so nearly of the same volume that one seemed 
 to be a mere shading of the other. Then the canary 
 warbled a dozen or so of long, full notes, while the 
 girl's cadenza, rising and falling rhythmically, 
 made a background of gorgeous tone-color, like a 
 Turner picture dissolved into music. So the duet 
 went on, and John Raymond, leaning on the sway 
 ing wooden gate, wondered vaguely why there was 
 a sub-conscious twinge of pain in the pleasure it 
 gave him. 
 
 "I suppose it is because music usually has that
 
 THE CLIMAX 21 
 
 effect," he concluded, as he turned into the garden 
 to which the gate belonged. 
 
 As he went up the garden-path he glanced 
 across to where a girl's white summer dress shim 
 mered among the crimson blossoms on the porch 
 where the canary hung. He hoped for a moment 
 that she would see him. But she didn't, so he 
 went on to the house and up to his room, to get 
 the dust of the white road out of his clothes and 
 himself. John Raymond and Adelina Von Hagen 
 were next-door neighbors. 
 
 It was half an hour later when Raymond, leis 
 urely completing his toilet, heard a gate slam, and 
 he peeped through the slats of his sun-blind in idle 
 curiosity. Three men were walking through the 
 garden to the rose-covered porch next door. One 
 of them, a stout individual, of pompous mien, 
 whose white waistcoat thrust itself aggressively 
 forward, like a show-window of prosperity, and 
 whose dome-like head, under a very wide-brimmed 
 soft hat, seemed to exhale judicial wisdom, 
 marched a little in advance of his companions. 
 
 " 'Squire Morgan, eh ?" said Raymond to him 
 self. "With Doctor Simmons and Franz Ehrhardt. 
 What can they be after, coming in a body this way? 
 Oh, yes ! They are the music committee. Going 
 to give Professor Von Hagen some instructions
 
 22 THE CLIMAX 
 
 about the music for next Sunday, I suppose. 
 There's liable to be some music right there, in the 
 house. The Professor won't submit to their dicta 
 tion forever. He maintains and he is right that 
 the organist should make up his own music pro 
 gramme. Some of these days the old man will kick 
 the committee out of his house and resign." 
 
 He smiled at the thought of the short-tempered 
 Von Hagen dealing thus summarily with 'Squire 
 Morgan, and returned to the mirror to finish the 
 interrupted operation of adjusting his necktie. It 
 took him a long time, as neckties often do. He was 
 giving the knot a final impatient tug, when he 
 heard Adelina's voice. She was calling, softly : 
 
 "John, come here will you?'' 
 
 Would he? He would have jumped out of the 
 window to her when she called him by name in that 
 tone, and he threw open the slatted shutters with 
 a bang. She was leaning over the fence separating 
 the two gardens. When she saw him she put her 
 two hands to her pretty mouth, megaphone fashion, 
 and said, in the manner of one making a public an 
 nouncement, in a loud whisper : 
 
 "Behold the new soprano of St. Jude's." 
 
 Down the stairs he went, three at a time, 
 reached the garden, and, vaulting over the palings, 
 was by her side while she still looked up at the
 
 THE CLIMAX 23 
 
 window, wondering why he had disappeared so 
 suddenly. At least, she said she was wondering. 
 But if she didn't know that John Raymond would 
 lose no time in coming to her, as she stood there, 
 all fluffy and bewitching, awaiting him, then she 
 must have forgotten all he had ever taught her. 
 She was a good excuse for any young man's tumul 
 tuous haste. With her plump arms extended from 
 the short lace sleeves, as she grasped the top of 
 the fence, her cheeks flushed with pleasant excite 
 ment, and the red-gold glory of the dying after 
 noon glinting her hair, Adelina Von Hagen was a 
 vision which might have fascinated a far less im 
 pressionable personage than this young country 
 doctor. 
 
 "So that's what the music committee came 
 for?" he panted, for haste had shortened his breath. 
 "I congratulate you, Addie. I saw them going in, 
 but I supposed they wanted to see your father." 
 
 "That's what he thought, and he had bristled 
 up as he always does when he sees them coming. 
 You know, he doesn't care for the organ and he 
 hates the music committee. But he says there 
 isn't a living in teaching the violin, and the salary 
 from St. Jude's is useful. If it were not for that 
 he would have resigned years ago. Now I shall
 
 24 THE CLIMAX 
 
 be able to help him. They are to pay me a hun 
 dred dollars a year. A lot of money isn't it?" 
 
 "Not for such a voice as yours?" 
 
 "Do you really think my voice is good, John ?" 
 
 "It isn't a question of thinking. Everybody in 
 Azalia knows it is magnificent," he declared, em 
 phatically. Then he added, with a hardly-percep 
 tible tightening of the lips, "for sacred music." 
 
 "Why do you say that?" she asked, quickly. 
 "Don't you think I can sing anything but hymns, 
 psalms and anthems?" 
 
 John Raymond looked troubled, and there was 
 a marked pause before he replied, in gentle re 
 proach : 
 
 "How could I think that, when I hang over 
 the piano to hear your ballads at every opportun 
 ity?" 
 
 "Ballads? Oh, yes," she returned, indiffer 
 ently. "But what about the arias from the operas? 
 Don't you care for them? I sang Margherita's 
 'Jewel Song' for you the other evening, and 'Di 
 Tale Amor,' from 'II Trovatore,' and I thought you 
 were pleased." 
 
 "So I was. You seemed to throw your whole 
 soul into the music." 
 
 "I did. I always do. My mother used to sing 
 them both. Margherita and Leonora were her fav-
 
 THE CLIMAX 25 
 
 orite parts. I have heard her say that when she 
 stepped forward to the footlights in either of those 
 characters it seemed as if the whole great audience 
 were holding out their arms to take her to their 
 bosoms. Oh, it must have been glorious! To be 
 a famous prima donna, impersonating the heroines 
 of romance, and telling their stories in the thrilling 
 music of Gounod, Verdi, Mozart, Rossini, Wagner 
 and all the others. To wear splendid dresses and 
 flashing jewels. To meet Lohengrin in an en 
 chanted palace, or to soar in the clouds with the 
 Valkyrie. To hear the crash of applause as you 
 come before the curtain, and to know it is all for 
 you. What is singing in a church choir compared 
 with that?" 
 
 "The church choir is safer," he said, coldly. 
 
 She turned on him with blazing eyes, and he 
 saw, with a strange, unexplainable fear, that there 
 was a determination in their blue-gray depths 
 which might be more than a match for his own 
 some day. If ever there should come a battle of 
 will against will his against hers with the fate of 
 one or both on the issue, which would be the vic 
 tor? He could not tell. Again and again he con 
 fessed to himself, in the second or two before she 
 spoke, that he could not tell.
 
 26 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "You are reflecting on my mother," she said, 
 at last, in low, tense tones. 
 
 "I am not, Adelina," he protested, piteously 
 and, indignant as she was, she could not but see 
 that he suffered. "I am thinking only of the girl 
 I love. I know that, though you are pleased to be 
 chosen soprano of St. Jude's choir, it does not sat 
 isfy your ambition. You cannot keep your mind 
 away from the stage. It is because I see and know 
 this that I say things to offend you. But, surely 
 you understand that I don't do it intentionally?" 
 
 The anger had died out of her eyes, and she 
 put one of her soft white hands into his strong 
 brown ones for a moment. Then, as they walked 
 slowly along, among the flower-beds, she stooped 
 and plucked a pansy, which she placed against her 
 lace sleeve. 
 
 "Don't you think the velvety purple and dull 
 yellow look pretty on white?" she asked, smiling. 
 
 "Beautiful," was his answer. But, as he spoke, 
 he was looking at her face, and not at the flower on 
 her sleeve. 
 
 "I love pansies," she went on. "The perfume 
 is so delicate, and there are such dainty fancies as 
 sociated with them. 'Heart's-ease' is one of their 
 names, you know. I have heard that, when one is 
 over-ambitious discontented, distressed, longing
 
 THE CLIMAX 27 
 
 for something utterly beyond reach a cluster of 
 pansies laid over the heart will quiet it, and bring 
 tranquility, if not contentment." 
 
 John Raymond gazed at her for a moment, a 
 world of adoration in his eyes. Then, stooping, 
 he broke off a dozen of the brilliant blossoms, and, 
 arranging them in a loose bouquet with a deftness 
 that belonged to his growing skill as a surgeon, 
 gave them to her, saying, with a grave smile : 
 
 "You might try the experiment, Adelina." 
 
 "I will," she answered, as she pinned the pan 
 sies on her corsage. Then, softly, to herself: 
 "Heart's-ease? Not through pansies, I am afraid." 
 
 "What did you say, Adelina?" 
 
 "Nothing," was her quiet response. "But there 
 go the music committee, out of the gate. They 
 said, after they had told me of my appointment, 
 that they might as well have a talk to dad about 
 his music for next Sunday. Let's hear what he has 
 to say about them. It will be interesting, I am 
 sure." 
 
 John Raymond was too deep in thought to an 
 swer. They went up to the crimson-garlanded 
 porch in silence. The canary had ceased to sing.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "And now I know that in your music's sweetness 
 Your mother's hallowed influence has a part." 
 
 That John Raymond ever could sympathize 
 with Adelina's deep-seated longing for an operatic 
 career was out of the question. He had inherited 
 a prejudice against the stage which caused him to 
 regard it habitually from one narrow angle. He 
 read every criticism of the theatre and its people 
 that came in his way, and, no matter how bitter 
 and illogical the arraignment, he never hesitated 
 to accept it as gospel. His father a man of stern 
 morals and afflicted with a ferocious piety, dan 
 gerously near bigotry abhorred the theatre with 
 a vicious intensity only possible to a really good 
 man. It was of record that once he had gone 
 through a howling blizzard to a town nearly a 
 hundred miles away, to attend a Sunday-school 
 Christmas-tree entertainment, but had come back 
 without taking part in it, because it was held in 
 the opera house. What wonder that, with such a 
 parent, John Raymond regarded the stage as the 
 
 28
 
 THE CLIMAX 29 
 
 hotbed of all evil ? Carrie, his sister, the only other 
 member of the household, naturally assumed that 
 her father and brother were right, and hated the 
 stage more than they did, without exactly knowing 
 why. 
 
 Adelina Von Hagen, on the other hand, had 
 been reared in her early childhood in an atmos 
 phere of art which found its fullest expression be 
 fore the footlights. Her mother had been a petted 
 prima donna in Italy, and had come to America to 
 win fresh triumphs. But Love, the rascal, who en 
 joys nothing so much as playing the mischief with 
 human ambition, put Heinrich Von Hagen, a well- 
 looking young German, into the orchestra, as first 
 violin. Not only did he admire the beautiful Italian 
 girl, but he determined to marry her. He observed, 
 at rehearsals, that the leading tenor, Luigi Gol- 
 fanti, was paying court to her, desperately and in 
 her native tongue. Von Hagen did not speak good 
 Italian, but he made up his mind, after due delib 
 eration, that the tenor, handsome as he was, and 
 notwithstanding that he had the advantage of com 
 ing from her own country, could be driven off the 
 field, and in his stolid Teutonic way, he pressed 
 his suit so effectively with her that, at the end of 
 the season, they were married. Perhaps she loved 
 the young German. The chances are that she did,
 
 30 THE CLIMAX 
 
 finding his slow, phlegmatic wooing fascinating in 
 its very contrast with her own passionate Southern 
 nature. Such fancies are not uncommon. 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen had not been blind to the 
 pecuniary advantage of becoming the husband of 
 a young woman whose voice was literally golden. 
 Indeed, some people Luigi Golfanti among them 
 did not hesitate to say that his affections were 
 enlisted as much in her large salary as in herself. 
 However that may have been, it was not for long 
 that he was privileged to share in his wife's earn 
 ings Within a year a girl-baby came, and when, 
 one day three months later, Von Hagen impatiently 
 commanded the mother to sing one of the most 
 florid arias in her repertoire, while he played the 
 accompaniment, he was horrified to find that most 
 of the power had faded from her voice. She could 
 still sing, but not with the commanding volume 
 and technique which had made her fame. Again 
 and again he thumped the piano, as she tried selec 
 tion after selection, each easier than the one before 
 it. At the end of an hour of agonizing endeavor 
 they both knew that no longer could she hope to 
 fill the brilliant roles which had once been so easy. 
 She might be equal to small, insignificant parts, but 
 never more would she hold the centre of the stage 
 as a prima donna.
 
 THE CLIMAX 31 
 
 They called the baby Adelina after a dear 
 friend of the mother's who had in the meantime 
 become the wife of Luigi and, in her delight in 
 her infant, the dethroned diva almost forgot her 
 artistic downfall. Not so her husband. He re 
 garded the loss of her money-making ability as 
 somehow her fault, and he never forgave her. He 
 made her teach music and occasionally take a 
 chorus engagement in opera, when she could get it, 
 never heeding what was obvious to others that 
 her health was slowly, but surely, declining, as he 
 spurred her on to efforts clearly beyond her 
 strength. 
 
 One afternoon, eight years from the day Ade 
 lina was born, she called the little girl to her as 
 she lay on the sofa, kissed her feebly and asked 
 her to play her Czerny exercises. 
 
 "Don't stop if I fall asleep, dear," she said. 
 "Your playing won't disturb me." 
 
 "Very well, mamma." 
 
 Adelina was still playing when her father came 
 into the room, from a rehearsal, and angrily told 
 her she would wake her mother with her noise. But 
 the piano did not wake her. Nothing ever did in 
 this world. 
 
 It was a year after her mother's death when 
 Adelina's father settled down in Azalia. They
 
 32 THE CLIMAX 
 
 wanted an organist at St. Jucle's Church, and Hem- 
 rich Von Hagen, with whom things had not been 
 going well, offered himself and was accepted, at a 
 salary about equal to the wages his wife had paid 
 her maid in the days of her prosperity. He added 
 to his income by teaching the violin, although he 
 never had many pupils at one time. The difficul 
 ties presented by that elusive instrument dismayed 
 the Azalians, and most of the young people with 
 musical leanings preferred to stick to the melodeon, 
 as their parents had stuck before them. 
 
 Among the few who, under Professor Von 
 Hagen's instructions, labored to conquer the dia 
 bolical perplexities of "bowing," and to unravel the 
 mysteries of the various "positions" on the finger 
 board, without setting his own teeth on edge, was 
 John Raymond familiarly known, at that period 
 of his existence, as "Jacky." To say truth, he was 
 not a promising pupil. Many a rap on the knuckles 
 did Professor Von Hagen bestow with the back of 
 his bow, accompanied by a gutteral expletive in his 
 native German, and Jacky Raymond would have 
 given it all up long before he did but for the en 
 couragement of little Adelina. She liked the boy, 
 and, as she was not old enough to be ashamed of 
 showing her preference for an individual of the op 
 posite sex, she would spend hours with him, listen-
 
 THE CLIMAX 33 
 
 ing, with hypocritical, but affectionate, admiration, 
 to his wretched sawing. How much, with her deli 
 cate musical ear, she suffered, she never told hina. 
 He always played flat. 
 
 John Raymond was musing on that far-away 
 time of his violin studies as he and Adelina strolled 
 up the garden-path to the porch with the crimson 
 ramblers, on this sweet June afternoon. He was 
 sure now, as he looked back through the vistas of 
 the years, that she had made him jealous by talk 
 ing about the stage even then. She had always 
 wanted to be a great singer, and he recalled how 
 she had once told him, with childish faith in the 
 prophetic truth of the vision, that she had dreamed 
 her mother came to her in the night and promised 
 to be with her when she walked on the stage to" 
 sing Leonora for the first time. 
 
 He was startled out of his reverie by stumbling 
 against the steps of the porch, and Adelina laugh 
 ingly offered him "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. 
 Raymond." 
 
 "1 was only thinking how pleased all your 
 friends will be to know that you are to sing in St. 
 Jude's choir," he answered, awkwardly. 
 
 "You didn't look pleased. There was a frown 
 on jour face." 
 
 "That was not a frown," he said and he
 
 34 THE CLIMAX 
 
 smiling now. "It was only an involuntary contrac 
 tion of the facial muscles, the outward evidence of 
 mental concentration." 
 
 She might have argued the point, but there 
 was no opportunity. As she had anticipated, her 
 father had some interesting remarks to make about 
 the music committee, and he made them volumi 
 nously. For twenty minutes he held forth on the 
 insolence of men who knew nothing about music 
 presuming to offer suggestions to one who had 
 made the science a life study. He was still growl 
 ing when Raymond went to supper, after telling 
 the girl he would be back at half-past seven to take 
 her to Professor Cooper's lecture in the Town Hall. 
 
 As the young doctor paused on the threshold 
 of his home, he wished there was someone inside 
 to whom he could turn for sympathy in his mis 
 givings about Adelina. But he knew better than 
 to mention them either to his father or sister. It 
 had fallen to him to defend Adelina vigorously 
 more than once, when the former chose to utter 
 one of his favorite philippics against the stage, and 
 had held up the girl as one in danger of being drawn 
 to everlasting perdition by its infernal influence. 
 So the main topic over the supper table was the 
 comparatively safe one of Professor Cooper's prom-
 
 THE CLIMAX 35 
 
 ised demonstrations of animal magnetism and tel 
 epathy that evening. 
 
 "You are going, of course, father?" said John 
 Raymond, at the end of a dissertation on mind- 
 reading and mental suggestion which he flattered 
 himself must be convincing. 
 
 "No, I shall not go," replied Raymond senior, 
 with the impressiveness that made everything he 
 said seem weighty, even when it was only "Pass 
 the prunes." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I do not believe these pretended phe 
 nomena of animal magnetism, hypnotism, telepathy 
 and so forth have any sound scientific basis. More 
 over, I fear they verge on impiety. Professor 
 Cooper I regard as a charlatan, whom I could not 
 conscientiously encourage by my presence. There 
 fore, I shall not attend his lecture." 
 
 Carrie glanced wistfully at John, and he, like 
 a kind brother, as he was, immediately asked her 
 if she would not go with him. 
 
 "If papa does not object," she ventured, tim 
 idly, and not too hopefully. 
 
 For a few moments Mr. Raymond did not 
 make known his dictum. He believed in the chast 
 ening beneficence of uncertainty. Finally, with a 
 pious uplifting of his eyes, as if he were calling on
 
 36 THE CLIMAX 
 
 the angels to gaze upon him as a long-suffering 
 and indulgent parent, he said, solemnly: 
 
 "I will waive my objections if you feel you can 
 afford to waste your time on such nonsense." 
 
 The truth was that this estimable man's curi 
 osity had been aroused as to what Professor Cooper 
 really could accomplish in the obscure sciences in 
 which he was said to be an authority, and he knew 
 he should be able to draw from Carrie, when she 
 returned, a circumstantial account of all that was 
 said and done, to the minutest detail. That his 
 son's report would be brief and unsatisfactory was 
 equally certain. 
 
 "Well, hurry up, Carrie," admonished John, 
 as his sister ran away to her bedroom. "You'll 
 find me outside." 
 
 He was glad to get into the flower-scented 
 outer air again, for his home, and particularly his 
 father, depressed him. He drew a long breath as 
 he made his way around to the Von Hagens' gar 
 den, to see if Adelina was ready, thus giving Car 
 rie time to put on her hat, as well as certain lace 
 decorations for the neck and shoulders that smelled 
 of tar and came out only on state occasions. He 
 stopped by the side of the pansy-bed, where he had 
 gathered the bouquet for Adelina in the afternoon. 
 
 "Heart's-ease!" he murmured. "If I thought
 
 THE CLIMAX 37 
 
 there were anything in that, I would pile them high 
 on my breast every night. Heart's-ease !" 
 
 "Here I am, John. We're not late, I hope." 
 
 Adelina came tripping from the porch, and he 
 saw that she wore the pansies he had given her. 
 She was smiling gaily. There never was a cloud 
 between them when she looked like that. 
 
 "I kept your pansies in water, and see how 
 fresh they are," she rattled on. "I was determined 
 to wear them this evening. Oh! There's Carrie! 
 She's going with us, isn't she? I'm glad of that." 
 Then, raising her voice : "Hello, Carrie ! Hoo-hoo !" 
 
 Carrie had just appeared at her own door, with 
 her hat and the afore-mentioned lace things on. 
 She only smiled demurely, without speaking, as be 
 came a serious-minded young woman, in acknowl 
 edgment of Adelina's exuberant greeting, and came 
 down the garden-path to join them at the gate. 
 
 "I hope this Professor will be funny, don't 
 you?" said Adelina, impulsively kissing her on the 
 cheek. 
 
 "I like anything that is instructive," was Car 
 rie's calm reply. "But I do not care for frivolity. 
 I hope to be greatly refreshed. That is why I am 
 going." 
 
 "Oh, are there to be refreshments? Ice-
 
 38 THE CLIMAX 
 
 cream, and lemonade, and cake, I suppose. I didn't 
 know." 
 
 "I meant mentally refreshed." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Adelina had understood that, of course, but 
 she never could resist the temptation to put a crimp 
 in Carrie when she got too "starchy," as she con 
 fessed to John, in a whisper, when Miss Raymond 
 marched a few paces ahead. 
 
 It seemed as if nearly everybody was going to 
 the lecture. No sooner had John and the two 
 young ladies turned the corner into Main street 
 than they were caught in a strong current of hu 
 manity streaming towards the Town Hall. The 
 lecture, it had been advertised, would be addressed 
 to the intellectual portion of the public, and Azalia 
 responded en masse to such an appeal. Azalia was 
 a cultured community. If you doubted it, you 
 could ask any of its adult inhabitants. 
 
 "There's Tommy Tittlemouse," said Adelina to 
 John, in an undertone. "Don't walk too fast. They 
 are only a little in front of us." 
 
 Sad to say, "Tommy Tittlemouse" was none 
 other than the Reverend Thomas Treadhouse. But 
 Adelina had known Tommy when he was an awk 
 ward hobbledehoy, of preternatural solemnity, and 
 having given him his nickname then, she would not
 
 THE CLIMAX 39 
 
 change it now, even though he had become a min 
 ister. 
 
 "I suppose Susan wouldn't speak to me now. 
 As if it's my fault I'm to have her place in the 
 choir," she continued, taking Carrie into the con 
 versation. "I'm sure 
 
 "Oh, yes, I forgot, Adelina," interrupted Car 
 rie. "I congratulate you. My father heard of it 
 from 'Squire Morgan, and he says it's an excellent 
 selection. Papa likes you, you know. I hope you 
 will find the position a pleasant one. But, of 
 course, you never can tell. This is a world of dis 
 appointments." 
 
 Adelina shook herself involuntarily under this 
 shower of verbal ice-water, and said she was glad 
 that Mr. Raymond approved of the music commit 
 tee's choice, that she would do her best, and that 
 if the position should not prove altogether pleasant, 
 she would try to endure it for the sake of the sal 
 ary. 
 
 "Why, Miss Von Hagen, how do you do?" 
 broke in a very stout woman, whose brick-red face 
 made the crimson roses in her hat seem almost 
 pale, as she waddled out of a doorway and stood 
 directly in their path. 
 
 "Good evening, Mrs. Potter. Going to the lec 
 ture?"
 
 4 o THE CLIMAX 
 
 "I certainly am," replied the stout woman, who 
 was the better half of the sonorous undertaker and 
 sexton so well thought of by the sages accus 
 tomed to air their wisdom at Rundell's. "I reckon 
 it will be well worth going to. My husband says 
 this Professor Cooper can put his brains into any 
 one he likes. I hope he won't try it on me. I've 
 got a set of my own that suit me very well. I 
 shouldn't want a strange man's brains in my head. 
 I don't think it would be a respectable thing to 
 do to a married lady he'd never seen before. Nor 
 to a single one, neither," she added, as a consistent 
 after-thought. "Te-he! Te-he !" 
 
 Mrs. Potter's voice was very thin, in contrast 
 with her ample person, and her tittering giggles 
 were mere splinters of sound that suggested any 
 thing but honest mirth. She was one of the busiest 
 members of St. Jude's Sewing Circle. 
 
 "I hear they've asked Mrs. Treadhouse for her 
 resignation as soprano, and that you'll sing in her 
 place after next Sunday," she went on. "Is that 
 so?" 
 
 It was John Raymond who replied to Mrs. Pot 
 ter, somewhat shortly: "Yes, that is so. Miss Von 
 Hagen was told by the music committee this after 
 noon." 
 
 He tried to steer Adelina and his sister around
 
 THE CLIMAX 41 
 
 the good lady, for their sudden enforced halt had 
 held up the whole procession on the narrow side 
 walk, and there was a storm of angry protests all 
 the way down the block that threatened to become 
 a riot. But the undertaker's wife was not to be 
 shaken off. She walked along with them, talking 
 as she went. 
 
 "I'm thinking Mrs. Treadhouse will take it 
 rather hard, and I allow as the preacher won't like 
 it none too well, neither," she purred, comfortably, 
 but with one doubtful eye on John Raymond, who 
 was scowling fiercely. "You know, Adelina, there's 
 folks in Azalia what's li'ble to object to you because 
 your mother used to act out on the stage. Of 
 course, that ain't none of your fault. A child ain't 
 got no right to be blamed for her parents. That's 
 what I up and says to my husband this very after 
 noon, when he come in and told me about you going 
 to be paid for singing in church. My remark was, 
 'Well, Solomon, Addy Von Hagen can't help what 
 her mother done,' says I, and he says, says he, 
 'That's sound philosophy, Hannah.' And I reckon 
 it is, too. What was it your mother used to do in 
 the the-ayter? I never heard all the rights of it." 
 
 Mrs. Solomon Potter put this question as 
 loudly as her squeaky voice would permit, for two 
 other ladies, Mrs. Wilkins, and the principal of
 
 42 THE CLIMAX 
 
 the public school, Miss Crupp, both of whom be 
 longed to the Sewing Circle, had come up, hungry 
 for gossip. 
 
 John Raymond pressed Adelina's arm gently, 
 as a warning to her to be silent, for he read mis 
 chief in the tight lips and spiteful eyes of the newly- 
 arrived Sewing Circlers, but the girl was not to be 
 restrained. 
 
 "My mother was an opera singer a prima 
 donna," she flamed out. 
 
 "An op'ry-singer ?" echoed Mrs. Wilkins. "I 
 once went to a op'ry in Chillicothe Wilkins didn't 
 want to take me, but I went anyhow and it was 
 somethin' scand'lous. The op'ry was called 'The 
 Jolly Female Divers.' There was a lot of young 
 women, all painted up, singin' an' dancin', with 
 nothin' on but a " 
 
 "Miss Von Hagen, did your mother wear 
 tights on the stage?" suddenly boomed Miss Crupp, 
 who was forty years of age and a basso. 
 
 That was all. John Raymond could stand it no 
 longer. Taking Adelina and his sister each by an 
 elbow, he charged the Sewing Circle and forced 
 his way past them, knocked a few boys off the 
 sidewalk, jostled the Reverend Thomas Treadhouse 
 apologizing immediately and did not stop until 
 he had reached the head of the narrow staircase
 
 THE CLIMAX 43 
 
 leading into the Town Hall, where a pale and pim 
 ply youth was taking tickets at the door. 
 
 The pimply young man was business manager 
 for Professor Cooper. Among his duties was that 
 of submitting himself as a "subject" for hypnotism 
 when no one in the audience would volunteer. He 
 was "very receptive," the Professor said, and it was 
 a fact that the business manager, when in a hyp 
 notic state, went through more fantastic perform 
 ances, and therefore provoked more wonder and 
 laughter, than ever were contributed by an outsider. 
 The business manager's name was Boner Claude 
 Boner. 
 
 "You'll have to get tickets down stairs," said 
 this functionary to Raymond, distractedly, for he 
 was overworked and flustered. 
 
 As he spoke Claude Boner thrust forward a 
 knee, to prevent a boy sneaking into the hall with 
 out paying, and at the same moment took tickets 
 from 'Squire Morgan for that portly gentleman 
 himself, for Mrs. Morgan, who was tall and slim, 
 and for the two Misses Morgan, both of whom 
 were built like their father. 
 
 It was anything but an easy task to descend 
 the steep, poky staircase, since besides that people 
 were coming up in a solid mob, several boys were 
 amusing themselves by alternately sliding down the
 
 44 THE CLIMAX 
 
 banister and running up the stairs under the arms 
 and among the legs of the grown-up folk. The 
 urchins accompanied their manoeuvres with 
 snatches of the latest popular song to reach Aza- 
 lia, yelled at the very top of their strident young 
 voices. 
 
 Raymond found Professor Cooper himself sell 
 ing tickets through a square opening from a very 
 small wooden cupboard which seemed a tight fit 
 for the gifted scientist, spare of figure as he was. 
 The Professor perspired freely as well he might, 
 considering his situation, shut up in a breathless 
 box on a warm June evening but he was not un 
 happy, for tickets were fifty cents apiece, and they 
 were going so fast that he saw he would have a 
 large audience. 
 
 When Raymond had fought his way up stairs 
 again, he piloted Adelina and Carrie past the 
 harassed Claude Boner into the low-ceiled hall, 
 and, by good luck, discovered three empty chairs 
 near a window, which had been given up by three 
 ladies, one of whom was Miss Crupp, because they 
 were afraid of "the draught." Miss Crupp would 
 have closed the window if she could, taking the 
 risk of half suffocating everybody. But the case 
 ment was old and rickety, and could not be moved 
 save by the elderly woman at home with a tooth-
 
 THE CLIMAX 45 
 
 ache at that moment who swept out the hall when 
 she happened to think of it, and who alone knew 
 the window's secret. So Miss Crupp and her 
 cronies moved to the other side of the room, and 
 John Raymond commandeered the three chairs. 
 
 Adelina, dropping into her seat, caught the 
 eye of Mrs. Treadhouse, who smiled and bowed os 
 tentatiously. 
 
 "She won't let you think she is disappointed, 
 if she can help it, but she's boiling within," ob 
 served Carrie. "I know Susan Treadhouse. She 
 can't blind me." 
 
 And as it has been well and often said that no 
 one understands a woman like a woman, and as 
 Miss Raymond was not devoid of the quick per 
 ception generally credited to her sex, it is to be 
 feared there was something "catty" in Mrs. Tread- 
 house's friendly recognition of the young girl who 
 would supplant her in St. Jude's choir. 
 
 There was a ten minutes' interval, filled in with 
 buzzing conversation and shrill boyish cries, and 
 then Professor Theophilus Cooper, in what the 
 Azalians called "a full dress suit," wriggled his way 
 down one side of the crowded room, past a line of 
 standing people plastered against the wall, and 
 reached the platform. He bowed in response to a 
 burst of hand-clapping boisterously prolonged by 
 five snickering boys, sitting together, free from 
 parental restraint, in a front row solemnly drank 
 a little water, and plunged into his lecture.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "It is not madness 
 That I have uttered: bring me to the test." 
 
 Professor Cooper was anything but the charla 
 tan Mr. Raymond had called him. On the con 
 trary, it was evident that he had given to the sub 
 ject of mental phenomena extended and intelligent 
 study, and as he had the faculty of putting the in 
 formation he possessed into simple language, with 
 such terrific words as "psychopannychism," "hys- 
 terology," "cerebralism" and "psychophysical" 
 thrown in only just often enough to prove his eru 
 dition, the preliminary discourse did not bore his 
 hearers so much as some of the more thoughtful of 
 them had feared it would. 
 
 But, after all, it was the expectation of wit 
 nessing experiments and demonstrations that had 
 attracted the large audience, and Professor Cooper 
 knew that as well as anyone. Therefore, after oc 
 cupying twenty minutes' time in expounding the 
 principles of mental suggestion, he announced that 
 he would endeavor to give an illustration of the 
 psychic power of one human being over another if 
 
 46
 
 THE CLIMAX 47 
 
 some gentleman would step upon the platform to 
 assist him. There was a pause, during which the 
 Professor, with a patient smile, sent an inquiring 
 gaze roaming over the audience. 
 
 "I wonder if it would hurt?" was the whispered 
 query that rippled through the hall, and, as no one 
 could answer it authoritatively, there was no re 
 sponse to the Professor's invitation, although he 
 repeated it twice. 
 
 This did not disturb him, however. He had 
 not been a public lecturer for years without acquir 
 ing an extensive knowledge of human nature, and 
 he was satisfied that he would have all the Azalians 
 on the platform he wanted, and more, too, when 
 once he had broken through their shyness. To get 
 things going, he made a sign, unnoticed by the 
 audience, to Claude Boner, his business manager, 
 who was standing just inside the carefully-closed 
 door, waiting to be called. Claude shuffled down 
 one of the side-aisles with affected diffidence, and 
 stepped up to the side of the Professor as if he 
 never had seen him before. Some of the audience 
 recognized Claude as the pimply young man who 
 had taken their tickets at the door, but many did 
 not, never having looked as high as his face as they 
 passed in after the manner of the public the civi 
 lized world over. If the "man on the door" is a
 
 4S THE CLIMAX 
 
 human being, and not merely a slot machine, few 
 persons admit the fact. Professor Cooper had ob 
 served this peculiarity of human nature, too. There- 
 tore, he received Claude as an entire stranger, sat 
 him in a chair, mesmerized him, and told him he 
 was a kitten, playing with a ball. 
 
 Mr. Boner obediently dropped upon his hands 
 and knees, and sported with an imaginary ball in 
 such a life-like way, that, as Adelina whispered to 
 John Raymond, it was hard to believe the young 
 man's father was not an old tom-cat. The kitten 
 performance went on for a few minutes, and then 
 the Professor turned his "subject" successively 
 into a carpenter sawing wood, a spirited horse and 
 a base ball player. Claude Boner showed himself 
 a clever mimic. As the carpenter, he sawed at the 
 seat of a chair with the edge of his hand, making, 
 with his mouth, the sound of a saw going through 
 a board, knots and all ; as the horse, he curvetted, 
 reared and neighed, and, as the ball-player, he 
 made a tremendous hit to right-field, rushed com 
 pletely around the platform, and wound up with a 
 sensational slide to the home-plate which drove all 
 l&ie boys, and many of the men, in the hall, frantic 
 with delight. 
 
 "He's fast asleep, yo Know," remarked the
 
 THE CLIMAX 49 
 
 Professor, gravely. "He doesn't know what he is 
 doing. Now, I'll wake him." 
 
 A sharp slap on the shoulders, accompanied 
 by a shout, brought Claude to himself, rubbing his 
 eyes and looking sheepishly about him, as if he 
 wondered what foolish things he might have done. 
 During the laughter that shook the hall, the Profes 
 sor's keen eye had noted several restless individuals 
 here and there in the rows of chairs, and he was 
 satisfied that some of them would come up to the 
 platform. So he dismissed Claude with a courtly 
 bow, saying: 
 
 "I thank you very much, sir, for your assist 
 ance in these scientific experiments, not only in my 
 own name, but in that of this large and brilliant 
 assemblage of really remarkable intellect and 
 beauty." 
 
 He waved his hand to comprehend everybody 
 in the hall, and each and every Azalian present 
 took personal credit for one or other of the natural 
 gifts bestowed upon them by the lecturer. It was 
 an axiom of Professor Cooper's that you could not 
 lay on the flattery too thick if you had your audi 
 ence with you. 
 
 Claude Boner had hardly reached his own 
 chair by the door when two half-grown youths, 
 husky, sunbrowned and unimaginative, shuffled
 
 5 o THE CLIMAX 
 
 forward, encouraged by numerous friends of their 
 own sex and age, and grinned at the Professor. 
 
 "Them's the Barber boys, from Williams's 
 farm," observed Daddy Wylie, who was in a front 
 row, near the five snickering urchins, whence he 
 had been taking the liveliest interest in the pro 
 ceedings. "I'll bet he can't do nothin' with them, 
 no more'n he could with me." 
 
 Daddy Wylie had not addressed anyone in par 
 ticular, but his voice had reached Professor Cooper, 
 who gave him a shock by saying, blandly: "If the 
 gentleman who has just spoken will kindly step 
 up here, I should like to test the influence of men 
 tal suggestion upon him. I realize that it will be 
 very difficult to make an impression upon so pow 
 erful a mind, but, for that reason, the experiment 
 will be all the more interesting. Won't you oblige 
 me?" 
 
 The Professor leveled a long, lean forefinger 
 at Daddy Wylie, and the old gentleman, taken en 
 tirely by surprise, found himself on his feet and 
 moving toward the platform before the lecturer 
 had finished speaking. Mechanically, he took a 
 chair in front of the table on which stood the white 
 pitcher of ice-water and the glass, and Professor 
 Cooper politely requested the "Barber boys" to sit 
 at the back for a few moments. Then the lecturer
 
 THE CLIMAX 51 
 
 gazed intently into the eyes, of Mr. Wylie, resolved 
 to subdue him if it could be done. The defiance of 
 the old man had put him on his mettle. There was 
 deathly silence. 
 
 "If he can control old Wylie, it will convince 
 me," murmured John Raymond, below his breath. 
 
 Daddy Wylie did not appear so confident, now 
 that he was on the open battle-field, face to face 
 with an enemy whose weapons were altogether 
 strange to him. In the shelter of the auditorium 
 he could criticize without fear of reprisal, but here 
 it was different. His eyes twinkled anxiously be 
 hind his spectacles, and the straggly gray tuft on 
 his chin wagged fast, as he masticated his tobacco 
 with nervous rapidity. 
 
 "I don't think you can stop chewing tobacco," 
 said the Professor, at last, when he had been star 
 ing fixedly into Daddy Wylie's eyes for more than 
 a minute. 
 
 It seemed much longer to the breathless spec 
 tators. 
 
 "I don't want to stop it," replied Dad, with a 
 defiant chuckle. 
 
 There were sympathetic giggles from some of 
 the women, and the two "Barber boys," behind the 
 table, whose faces had expressed the deepest awe
 
 52 THE CLIMAX 
 
 during these mysterious doings, grinned again. 
 The Professor was serious. 
 
 "You can't stop chewing that tobacco," he 
 said, sharply. 
 
 "Yes, I can, if I want ter." 
 "Then stop it. But I say you can't." 
 Dad Wylie's jaws maintained their steady 
 grinding, with the tuft on his chin moving rhythmi 
 cally up and down. One might have supposed him 
 to be enjoying the tobacco with the keenest relish, 
 only that there had crept into his eyes a quiver of 
 mingled doubt and fear, which increased as the 
 Professor looked into them closer and repeated : 
 "You can't stop chewing that tobacco." 
 The old man raised his two arms stiffly from the 
 shoulders, as if he had no elbow-joints, but, some 
 how, he could not get his hands to his chin, as ap 
 peared to be his desire, while his jaw kept on work 
 ing with the mechanical strokes of a driving-rod in 
 a well-oiled engine. The frightened look in his 
 eyes intensified. His gaze never removed itself 
 from the face of the Professor, who, in his turn., 
 seemed to be reading the very soul of the tobacco- 
 chewing Dad. 
 
 There was something decidedly uncanny in it 
 all. It was obvious that Daddy Wylie was not 
 champing his tobacco only because he liked it. Not
 
 THE CLIMAX 53 
 
 that he did not often keep on that operation for 
 many minutes at a time without a break. But or 
 dinarily he could stop if he chose to do so. Now 
 he could not. There was the horror of it. The 
 cool, confident stranger, a sardonic smile gradually 
 creeping around the corners of his compressed lips 
 and cutting dry vertical lines in his pale cheeks, 
 held him in his thrall. Dad could not have told 
 what it was that compelled him to keep on chew 
 ing. He only knew that, while he would have liked 
 to cease, if only to shift his tobacco from one side 
 of his mouth to the other, he had no more power 
 to do it than if his jaw had been the property of 
 someone else. He could not even change its speed. 
 The same deliberate, regular action with which he 
 extracted solace from his quid under every-day, 
 sane conditions, was maintained now at the will of 
 this insolent Professor. 
 
 Would he never be allowed to stop? Dad had 
 been forced to the conclusion that, unless the in 
 fluence which dominated him was removed, he 
 might have to continue chewing until he dropped 
 from exhaustion. Even then his jaw might be 
 obliged to keep on working. It was awful. Then, 
 how the people were laughing at him. He never 
 would hear the last of it. He 
 
 Suddenly, as the Professor turned away and
 
 54 THE CLIMAX 
 
 smiled complacently at the audience, Dad's jaw 
 stopped its labor, and the wisp of gray hair was 
 stilled for the first time since he had been on the 
 platform. Dad put one hand to his chin and 
 stroked it reflectively. Then, very cautiously, he 
 bit his tobacco once, and stopped. He tried again, 
 closing and opening his mouth three times in quick 
 succession. Yes, it was all right. He could con 
 trol his own jaw again. He worked at the tobacco 
 for perhaps ten seconds, and then ceased with a 
 jerk. That satisfied him. He could chew or stop 
 chewing, as it pleased him. He was his own man 
 once more. 
 
 Without looking at the Professor, or anyone 
 else, the chastened Daddy Wylie left the platform, 
 made straight for the door, and clumped down 
 stairs to the deserted street. There he put a fresh 
 cube of plug tobacco into his mouth, and, as he 
 closed his teeth upon it, declared, emphatically, to 
 the stars and just-rising moon : 
 
 "By gravy! I didn't think he could do it." 
 Most of those who had witnessed Dad Wylie's 
 discomfiture were disposed to regard it as a good 
 joke that and nothing more. But John Raymond 
 sat thoughtful amid the uproar of mirth. He was 
 convinced that, however much trickery there might 
 have been in the performance of the ticket-taker
 
 THE CLIMAX 55 
 
 and he regarded the antics of Claude Boner on the 
 platform with more than suspicion Dad Wylie's 
 subjugation had been bona fide. He had kept on 
 chewing his tobacco because he could not stop. 
 Raymond was quite sure of that. Whether the 
 Professor's control had been exerted through tele 
 pathic suggestion, hypnotism, mesmerism, or any 
 other of the strange forces which he himself had 
 found so fascinating a study, he could not tell. Dad 
 might have yielded merely through nervousness. 
 Whatever the influence used by Professor Cooper, 
 it had conquered the old man's stubborn will, and 
 Raymond wanted to learn more about it. 
 
 The unceremonious departure of Daddy Wylie 
 did not end the entertainment. The "Barber boys" 
 were tried, but made indifferent "subjects" per 
 haps because they lacked imagination. Then others 
 came forward, dozens of them men, women and 
 children all eager for an experience they never 
 had hoped to have, and which was none the less 
 attractive because it would afford, perhaps, a 
 glimpse into another world. This was the idea that 
 had gained ground, especially among the feminine 
 element, and there were few women in the hall 
 who did not offer to put themselves .into Professor 
 Cooper's hands. Those few held back only because 
 they were afraid. So more people went up to the
 
 56 THE CLIMAX 
 
 platform than the Professor could deal with, and 
 when, at eleven o'clock, he announced that it was 
 too late to make any more demonstrations, there 
 were at least a score of disappointed fair ones, in 
 cluding the deep-voiced Miss Crupp. 
 
 "Well, I hope you are both convinced that 
 there is something in mental suggestion," said Ray 
 mond, afterward, as, with his sister on one arm 
 and Adelina on the other, he flying-wedged his way 
 through the wonder-stricken, gossiping throngs 
 outside the hall. 
 
 "I thought it rather silly," declared Adelina. 
 "And rough. I felt sorry for Mr. Wylie. Besides, 
 there should have been some music. It would have 
 brightened it up." 
 
 "Lectures are not supposed to be bright," said 
 Carrie, rebukingly. "I have learned a great deal 
 to-night, and I am grateful. I must say, though, 
 that I never saw such a hat as Miss Crupp had on. 
 All the trimming was from the hat she wore the 
 winter before last, and that green ribbon used to 
 be yellow before she had it dyed in the spring. I 
 know it by the black ink-spot. She's put a bow 
 over it to hide it, but I saw it at once when she 
 moved away from that chair." 
 
 Carrie mentioned other millinery she had ob 
 served, and, as none of it met with her unqualified
 
 THE CLIMAX 57 
 
 approval, it kept her talking until they reached 
 their own quiet street, where the moonlight was 
 working black-and-white embroidery on the picket- 
 fences under the elms. The trio stopped at the 
 Raymond garden gate, and Carrie said: 
 
 "I'll run up to the house, John, while you take 
 Adelina home. Good night, Addie. I'm sorry you 
 didn't like the lecture. It has given me a great 
 deal of food for serious thought. Good night." 
 
 While Miss Raymond hurried indoors, to tell 
 her father as much about the lecture as she could 
 recall, her brother and Adelina walked slowly to 
 the next gate and stood there, hand in hand. There 
 was no particular reason for his holding her hand. 
 It just happened so. He had seized the top of the 
 gate, to pull it open, and had met her fingers as 
 they clasped one of the pickets with the same pur 
 pose. He had closed his fingers around hers and 
 drawn them away, saying: 
 
 "I'll open the gate. It's too heavy for you." 
 
 Humbug ! The crazy old gate had hung there 
 for twenty years, and every drop of weight-giving 
 sap had dried out long ago. It was almost as light 
 as if it were made of cardboard. Moreover, its 
 hinges were new had been put on by Azalia's 
 leading carpenter less than a week before and 
 were so well oiled that they operated without a
 
 58 THE CLIMAX 
 
 ghost of a creak and were practically automatic. 
 Even the light touch of the girl's finger-tips had 
 swung the gate open an inch or two. But any ex 
 cuse would do for John Raymond as he looked 
 down at her pretty face, dimpling in the shadow- 
 flecked moonlight, under the waving elms. He 
 had her hand, and there was no reason why he 
 should let it go. 
 
 The voices of the home-going people on Main 
 street came to them in a musical murmur, the 
 sharpness of the women's tones and the growls of 
 the men all fused by distance into a low harmony. 
 There was a nightingale singing somewhere. A 
 select company of frogs were holding a conver 
 sazione down by the creek. And through it all mur 
 mured the rustling of leaves, the hum of insects 
 the thousand-and-one sounds that give tune to a 
 midsummer night. 
 
 "I must go in/' said Adelina, when he had 
 stood holding her hand for some moments, resist 
 ing with difficulty an impulse to put his arm around 
 her waist. "It is very late, and father may be wait 
 ing for me." 
 
 "Don't you think he has gone to bed?" 
 
 "Yes, but he may be awake, listening for me 
 to come in. Good night." 
 
 She moved slightly, as if to open the gate, but
 
 THE CLIMAX 59 
 
 did not draw her fingers out of his grasp. He was 
 afraid she might, so he tightened his hold. He 
 wanted to say something before they parted, and he 
 felt that the words would come easier' if he kept 
 her hand in his. 
 
 "I am going to walk up to the porch with you," 
 he told her. "There might be some stranger a 
 tramp hiding behind the rose-bushes." 
 
 She laughed softly. 
 
 "There hasn't been a tramp in Azalia this sum 
 mer, John. 'Squire Morgan set so many of them 
 to breaking stones last year, that they don't come 
 now. The 'Squire says they've all heard what they 
 may expect, and they have blotted Azalia from 
 their visiting-list." 
 
 He remaind silent for a few moments, and 
 when he did speak it was not in answer to her play 
 ful remarks about tramps, but a sudden question 
 which had no reference to anything they had been 
 saying, and therefore took her by surprise : 
 
 "Addie, don't 3>-ou think you could be happy 
 in Azalia all your life, even though there are no 
 theatres here?" 
 
 He bent down quickly, trying to make out the 
 expression of her face through the confusion of 
 dancing shadows. It showed nothing but amuse 
 ment, as she replied with- another query:
 
 60 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Do you think you ever could become the great 
 physician and surgeon you want to be and will 
 fee without studying in city hospitals and attend 
 ing lectures in the famous medical colleges?" 
 
 "I asked you my question because I love you, 
 Adelina." 
 
 "And I didn't answer it because I " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing. I really must go in." 
 
 There was no impatience in her tones, and the 
 amused smile still shone in her eyes, as she opened 
 the gate with her free hand, while he still held the 
 other. He wished she had finished her sentence, 
 and yet, as he told himself, perhaps her breaking 
 it off was indicative of the uncertainty of her 
 mind. If only there were some way of bringing 
 fcer to a decision some way ! He let go of her 
 hand. 
 
 "How sweet the roses are," she said, softly. 
 "You get the scent of them so much stronger in the 
 evening than in daylight. And the pansies ! They 
 seem to be fighting with the roses for notice. Oh, 
 I am right on the edge of the pansy-bed. Another 
 step and I might have walked over them. That 
 would have been dreadful to crush heart's-ease 
 out of existence, wouldn't it?" 
 
 Whatever his opinion, he did not express it,
 
 THE CLIMAX 61 
 
 and as they stopped at the foot of the/three broad 
 steps leading to the porch, she turned to him, and 
 taking both of his hands in hers, whispered: 
 
 "Good night." Then, after a pause: "Don't 
 worry. I'm not worth it. No girl is." 
 
 But he did not agree with her in this, and long 
 after she had gone to her own pretty room, where 
 her mother's old opera scores were piled up on a 
 table close to her bedside, and where the sweet 
 breatk of the pansies came all night through the 
 open window, John Raymond sat in Professor 
 Cooper's room at Granger's Hotel, talking earn 
 estly. 
 
 "Then you believe it possible to influence at 
 will, by this science, a mind bent for years in a 
 certain direction?" asked Raymond, at last, as he 
 arose to go. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," replied the Professor. 
 
 "Permanently?" 
 
 "I do not say that." 
 
 John Raymond left the hotel and walked slowly 
 home. He could not follow Adelina's advice. He 
 was still worrying.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "There let the pealing organ blow 
 To the full-voiced choir below." 
 
 It was Thursday when the music committee 
 announced to Adelina that she had been chosen to 
 sing soprano parts and solos at St. Jude's, in place 
 of Mrs. Treadhouse. All three members of the 
 committee had been at Professor Cooper's lecture 
 that evening, and just as Adelina was leaving the 
 hall 'Squire Morgan had worked his way to her in. 
 the crowd and advised her to go to the church the 
 next night and notice how choir practice was con 
 ducted. 
 
 "You might get a pointer or two from Mrs. 
 Treadhouse," the 'Squire had suggested. "She may 
 not be much of a singer, but she knows how to hold 
 her music-book, and there ain't no one going to 
 beat her at bringing in 'A-h-h-men !' at the right 
 time with the others." 
 
 "That's true," assented Dr. Simmons, who had 
 been hurled over to them by the crush of home- 
 
 62
 
 THE CLIMAX 63 
 
 goers, most of them battling to get out as if the 
 hall were on fire. "Mrs. Treadhouse has always 
 kept the choir straight. If young Schwartz were to 
 be the least bit too soon or too late with his tenor, 
 I believe she would throw him clear out of the gal 
 lery." 
 
 Adolph Schwartz, who sang tenor in the choir 
 on Sundays, but throughout the week acted as 
 clerk and soda-water dispenser in Root's drug 
 store, was yellow-haired and mild-mannered, and 
 Dr. Simmons laughed as he pictured the surprised 
 young man going head-first over the front of the 
 gallery into one of the pews below. Adelina 
 laughed, too, for Adolph was a perpetual annoyance 
 to her in a small way. He was a persistent ad 
 mirer, and having a high opinion of his personal 
 attractions, never could understand a snub. 
 
 "I'll go to choir practice with my father to-mor 
 row night," she told the 'Squire. 
 
 So, when Heinrich Von Hagen, on Friday 
 evening, gathered up his church music, grumblingly 
 after putting his precious Amati, which he had 
 been playing, into its battered case and went 
 down to the church to preside at the organ, Adelina 
 accompanied him. 
 
 St. Jude's organ was an old-fashioned affair, 
 with two banks of keys and a hand-pump for the
 
 64 THE CLIMAX 
 
 wind. It stood in the choir gallery, by the side of 
 the pulpit, and the organist sat with his back to 
 the faded red curtains which hid him from the con 
 gregation. A mirror over the music-desk enabled 
 kim to keep an eye on the minister, so that he could 
 follow the service and always be ready to play 
 when required. The choir had its row of four 
 chairs on his right, between him and the pulpit. 
 They, too, were screened behind red curtains when 
 seated, but bobbed up into view when they got on 
 their feet to sing. 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen had several sources of an 
 noyance in connection with his duties as organist. 
 The worst of them all was the difficulty in obtain 
 ing an adequate and even supply of wind for the 
 instrument. Solomon Potter, as the sexton, was 
 responsible for the proper performance of the or 
 gan-bellows. He never had been able to find a 
 steady operator, but was obliged to depend on the 
 fugitive services of any youth who was willing to 
 do the work for the modest remuneration allowed 
 fey the music committee. The tariff was twenty- 
 fiye cents for each service on Sunday, and fifteen 
 cents for choir practice on Friday. 
 
 The labor was very hard. Indeed there was a 
 popular belief that no other organ in the United 
 States had such a stiff, heavy pump-handle as this
 
 THE CLIMAX 65 
 
 one in St. Jude's Church. The ''assistant organist," 
 as the pumper was styled by the music committee, 
 had to squeeze himself into a narrow, dusty space 
 behind the organ, and there move a creaking 
 wooden bar up and down as long as the music con 
 tinued. On the wall, before his eyes, was the 
 gauge. This consisted of a series of lateral strokes, 
 numbered from "o" at the top to "15" at the bot 
 tom. A small oblong leaden weight, suspended on 
 a string, ascended rapidly as the air was exhausted 
 in the pipes, and it was the business of the "assist 
 ant organist" to see that the bottom of the weight 
 stayed a long way below the "o." That meant he 
 must continually pump, pump, pump. When a suc 
 cession of loud chords were played, it was heart 
 breaking labor for the pumper, and even in ordi 
 nary passages the weight had a cruel habit of glid 
 ing swiftly to the top if, in his weariness, he stopped 
 for a moment or two. 
 
 Since all the boys and young men in town 
 were familiar with the severity of the toil, none of 
 them would undertake it unless they were in sore 
 need of money, and many a time was Solomon Pot 
 ter obliged to climb into the little cupboard him 
 self, to pump the organ full of wind and himself 
 full of dust, because there was no one else to do 
 it, and Von Hagen was raving at the keyboard. It
 
 66 THE CLIMAX 
 
 was so at this rehearsal, and Adelina fancied she 
 could hear the sexton grunting and wheezing at 
 his hated task all through the music. 
 
 Susan Treadhouse, who was in the church 
 when they arrived, greeted Adelina with effusive 
 affection, while Mile. Marie Connor, the contralto 
 (who taught singing and kept a millinery estab 
 lishment in Buckeye street), and Saul Hunter, the 
 basso, bowed somewhat distantly. They were not 
 sure that it would please Mrs. Treadhouse if they 
 were too warm toward the new soprano, her own 
 enthusiastic welcome notwithstanding. Adolph 
 Schwartz was more in awe of the pastor's wife 
 than the others in the choir, but his desire to stand 
 well with Adelina overcame his fear of Mrs. Tread- 
 house's censure, and he favored the girl with a 
 series of his most killing smiles from beginning to 
 end of the rehearsal. 
 
 Adolph Schwartz was short and slim, Mrs. 
 Treadhouse of about the same height as Adolph, 
 while Mile. Marie Connor was tall, and Saul Hun 
 ter, eldest son of the farmer whose barn marked 
 the turn of the pike, towered above the contralto, 
 and was broad-shouldered in proportion. He 
 worked hard on his father's farm on week-days, 
 and the deep voice which served so well in the
 
 THE CLIMAX 67 
 
 choir was useful also in urging on plow-horses and 
 shouting to hired men across ten-acre fields. 
 
 Adelina did not learn anything in particular 
 at the rehearsal except that Mrs. Susan Treadhouse 
 hated her, as a rival, with all the intensity of a 
 small mind. This was evidenced when, her voice 
 having broken as she strove to reach a high "A," 
 Mrs. Treadhouse looked across to Von Hagen 
 fingering the keys dispassionately, while his eyes 
 were glued to the music before him and blurted, 
 in vinegary accents: 
 
 "You ought to save this solo for Sunday week. 
 It is the kind of thing that only an actress can do 
 properly." 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen shrugged his shoulders 
 impatiently, and growled : "Hein ! Sing." 
 
 Adelina could not prevent a quick flush spread 
 ing over her cheeks, but that was the only sign 
 she gave of the cruel agony which shot through her. 
 Not for herself alone would she have cared. But 
 well she knew that the anaemic Susan had had her 
 mother in mind, and that the taunt had been 
 barbed, so that it would make a double wound in 
 her breast, tearing ruthlessly through her dearest 
 and most sacred memories. 
 
 Probably no one but Mrs. Treadhouse and the 
 girl realized the significance of the thrust. Adolph
 
 68 THE CLIMAX 
 
 was smirking at Adelina. Mile. Marie Connor was 
 reviewing in her mind some important millinery 
 details, and trying to decide whether she should 
 trim her fall hat with feathers or flowers. As for 
 Saul Hunter, he had been absorbed in the bass part 
 of the trio he was to sing with the contralto and 
 tenor ever since he had entered the gallery, to the 
 exclusion of everything else. None of them had 
 heeded the spiteful outbrust. Most likely they had 
 not even heard it. After her first angry moment 
 Mrs. Treadhouse regretted that she had lost her 
 temper. She even smiled graciously at Adelina, 
 as if to assure her that she had meant no covert 
 attack in what she had said. But the girl, sore at 
 heart, turned away, and without saying anything 
 to her father, left the church and went home. 
 Heinrich Von Hagen never missed her. 
 
 Adelina went to church on Sunday, and if she 
 paid greater attention to the singing than to the 
 rather heavy sermon, it was only natural. She had 
 more personal interest in the methods of the choir 
 of which she was so soon to be a part than in po 
 lemical theology as expounded by the Reverend 
 Thomas Treadhouse. He was generally more 
 soporific than convincing. Susan Treadhouse got 
 through her solo somehow, not without a little 
 trouble with that high "A," and the remainder of
 
 THE CLIMAX 69 
 
 the musical service was accomplished smoothly. 
 Adelina decided that she would find it all very 
 easy. 
 
 "Next Sunday you Avill be in the choir," John 
 Raymond reminded her, as he joined her outside 
 the church, ready to accompany her home. 
 
 The June sunshine was warm and grateful after 
 the semi-gloom and chill within, for St. Jude's was 
 built before the era of ultra-comfortable churches, 
 especially in country towns, and there were threats 
 of rheumatism and malaria in its damp brick walls 
 and miasmatic cellar even in summer. 
 
 "Yes, but I shall not sing a solo. It would 
 not be the soprano's turn, for one thing, and I am 
 glad of it." 
 
 "The music would not be very difficult, would 
 it?" 
 
 "No, but I want to become used to my sur 
 roundings before I sing alone. You must permit 
 a little stage-fright even to a church chorister. Mr. 
 Hunter will have a bass solo in the morning, and 
 Miss Connor will sing in the evening. On the next 
 Sunday morning I shall have to stand up before the 
 critical congregation and endeavor to get through 
 a solo without breaking on the 'A/ " 
 
 Well, of course, it was unkind in Adelina to 
 refer to the vocal weakness of Susan Treadhouse.
 
 70 THE CLIMAX 
 
 But it is not pretended that this girl was superior 
 to ordinary human emotions, and it must be ad' 
 mittcd that she had reason for resentment. 
 
 "There is a strict code of ethics in church 
 choirs, isn't there?" remarked John Raymond. "I 
 suppose there would be trouble if anyone in the 
 quartette were to sing a solo out of turn." 
 
 "It would mean a revolution, unless a special 
 arrangement were made," she laughed. "I shall 
 sing in the morning, instead of in the evening, but 
 that is because Adolph Schwartz, to whom the 
 morning solo belongs, insists on standing aside for 
 me. It is considered more desirable to sing in the 
 morning than the evening, and he solemnly swore 
 that if I did not accept the morning for my first 
 solo he would stay away and send a substitute, 
 which would compel me to take the place of honor. 
 So, what could I do?" 
 
 He looked at her, radiant in her shimmering 
 summer frock, with a cluster of pansies nestling 
 among the soft laces on her bosom, and her blue- 
 gray eyes glancing demurely at him from beneath 
 the wide brim of her white straw hat, and he could 
 not help hating Adolph Schwartz, as he thought 
 what a ravishing picture she would make behind the 
 faded red curtains in the dingy old choir gallery. 
 
 When, on the following Sunday, he saw her in
 
 THE CLIMAX 7* 
 
 her place in the quartette, as she stood up, for the 
 first time, to join in the "Venite exultemus Dom 
 ino," and her clear, ringing tones mingled with the 
 others in the stirring exhortation, "O, come, let us 
 sing unto the Lord !" he wondered vaguely whether 
 it was wicked to liken her to an angel who had 
 been permitted to descend to the earth for a space, 
 to make it better and brighter. If this was a fool 
 ish thought, let it be remembered that John Ray 
 mond was very much in love with Adelina Von 
 Hagen. 
 
 He did not entertain the thought very long, for 
 even as he looked, a vision of an eager-faced young 
 girl, but in the gorgeous robes and false jewels of 
 the theatre, blotted out the real Adelina. She was 
 singing, as earnestly as now, to some commonplace 
 actor, whose only recommendation was the posses 
 sion of a powerful, well-trained voice. He could 
 have cried with the pain of it. Could it be possible 
 that she would thus degrade her heavenly gift of 
 song? And if she meant to do it, was there no 
 way of rescuing her? Sooner or later, he knew, 
 she would seek to shake off the safe, humdrum ex 
 istence of this little corner of the world so insig 
 nificant that it was not on many maps, even of 
 Ohio alone and go forth to conquer, as her mother 
 had done more than twenty years before. Then,
 
 72 THE CLIMAX 
 
 perhaps, he would lose her. After all, was not that 
 his principal objection? Perhaps; but he would not 
 confess it even to himself. He was trying to argue 
 it out in his mind when the last stanza of the an 
 them, in which he could hear Adelina's voice high 
 above the others, seemed to demand by what right 
 he dared to sit in judgment on her actions: 
 
 "For He cometh, for He cometh to judge the 
 earth: and with righteousness to judge the world 
 and the people with His truth." 
 
 There was his answer. He felt it even before 
 he had caught her eye for a flash of a second, as 
 she joined in the "Amen." That look seemed to 
 ask him whether he had noted the significance of 
 the words whether he understood that, if she was 
 to be condemned, it must be by a much higher 
 power than he. Perhaps she did not mean that. It 
 may have been that her gaze rested upon him for 
 an instant by accident, or that, if she had sought 
 him purposely, it was to read in his face whether 
 or not he was pleased with her first public effort 
 as a member of St. Jude's choir. But he could 
 place only one interpretation upon her glance, and 
 it humbled him, as he felt, to his betterment. It 
 brought to his mind a Scriptural injunction to 
 which he had given too little heed in his life: 
 "Judge not, that ye be not judged."
 
 THE CLIMAX 73 
 
 Mrs. Susan Treadhouse sat in a front pew, her 
 hatchet face wearing an expression of resignation, 
 but she never looked at Adelina. It may be that 
 the sight of someone else in the place she had oc 
 cupied for so long would have been too much for 
 her equanimity, and might have brought on an out 
 break and a scandal. So she watched her husband 
 whenever the choir sang, only suffering her atten 
 tion to wander during the sermon, when the quar 
 tette was out of sight behind the curtains. Withal 
 she did not miss a note sung by Adelina. 
 
 What Mrs. Treadhouse thought of the new so 
 prano's work was her own secret. What she said 
 to the Reverend Thomas, in the privacy of their 
 home, after the service, was : "If Adelina Von 
 Hagen could spend a few years in Cincinnati, under 
 a thoroughly competent teacher, and practice 
 breathing exercises six hours a day all that time, 
 she might eventually be able to sing. I don't say 
 she would, but she might. There is some strength 
 in her voice, but it is dreadfully harsh and un 
 trained." Which was not only spiteful, but utterly 
 untrue. Her husband was wise enough to nod tol 
 erantly, without commiting himself in speech. 
 
 Adolph Schwartz, the tenor, sitting next to the 
 soprano, as is customary, had the felicity of finding 
 the places for her in her music-books, and, with
 
 74 THE CLIMAX 
 
 much tender whispering, giving her hints that, were 
 entirely superfluous, since she knew as much about 
 it all as he did. But the opportunity to talk confi 
 dentially to her behind the red curtains was too 
 precious to be lost. Adolph was of a poetical turn 
 of mind, and he almost persuaded himself that they 
 two were alone, as in a fairy coral grotto (the red 
 curtains suggested the coral fancy), shut off from 
 all the great coarse world, and in the close com 
 munion so sweet to kindred souls. The fact that 
 Mile. Marie Connor and the husky Saul Hunter 
 were in the grotto with them, and that Adelina 
 could not hide entirely the boredom she felt, did 
 not disconcert Adolph in the least. She was his 
 for the time, and when afterward, as they all stood 
 up to sing, he perceived John Raymond looking at 
 him as if he would like to knock his well-groomed 
 yellow head off, his bosom filled with holy joy. Let 
 Raymond fume as he might, he could not come 
 into the choir gallery, and Adelina would be 
 Adolph's own for hours every Sunday, as she was 
 to-day. 
 
 The morning service came to an end at last, 
 and John lost no time in taking possession of Ade 
 lina, to the discomfiture of Adolph, who had in 
 veigled her out of the side door reserved for the 
 choir and minister. But Raymond was waiting
 
 THE CLIMAX 75 
 
 for her and took her as a matter of course, while 
 Adolph trailed along in the rear with her father, 
 who was not in good humor, for the pumping had 
 been very bad. 
 
 "How do you like it, Adelina?" asked John 
 Raymond, as they walked along by the white 
 fences, under the elms. "Do you think you will 
 tire of singing every Sunday?" 
 
 "Tire of it? Oh, John, I never could tire of 
 singing, and it is rather nice to do it in public, with 
 everybody listening to your voice. I am looking 
 forward to next Sunday, when I shall do my 
 solo. But think what it must be to sing before five 
 thousand people, instead of three hundred. My 
 mother used to tell me that at La Scala, in Milan, 
 she had seen five thousand in the audience, on im 
 portant opera nights. Mustn't it have been glori 
 ous?" 
 
 "I have heard that La Scala is a large build 
 ing," said John Raymond, dryly.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 "Ah, Love! Could you and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
 Re-mould it nearer to the heart's desire?" 
 
 Quite naturally, chat over the one o'clock din 
 ner-tables in Azalia on that Sunday had for its 
 main topic the new soprano of St. Jude's. It was 
 the more interesting, as the diners said, because she 
 was one of themselves. Azalia was opulent of local 
 pride. One of the common expressions was "We 
 always take care of our own." So Adelina "got it 
 going and coming." Not only was her singing duly 
 criticised, but her personal appearance went 
 through the mill of expert feminine comment, and 
 came out ground exceeding small. Her costume, 
 and particularly her hat, were the subject of de 
 tailed censure by "mother" and "the girls," as they 
 handed around the baked potatoes and string- 
 beans, and saw, with respectful solicitude, that 
 "father's" plate was kept well supplied with roast 
 beef the staple Sunday dinner meat in Azalia. 
 
 Nowhere was Adelina more thoroughly vivi- 
 76
 
 THE CLIMAX 77 
 
 sected than in the living-room behind the under 
 taker shop of Solomon Potter, the sexton. Mr. Pot 
 ter had been obliged to pump the organ that morn 
 ing, and when he had at last been delivered from 
 the dusty little cupboard, it was as a disheveled, 
 dirty, muscle-sore rapscallion hardly to be recog 
 nized as the dignified individual, in immaculate 
 white shirt and collar and carefully-knotted sky- 
 blue necktie, who had gone to his grimy doom an 
 hour or so before. He was swallowing his meal in 
 such a disgusted frame of mind that it must have 
 interfered with his digestion. 
 
 "Those boys are never on hand when they're 
 wanted," he growled, between mouthfuls, "and old 
 Von Hagen keeps that organ going, playing those 
 tarra-liddles of his when there's no singing, and 
 using up the wind as if it pumped itself." 
 
 "It's too bad," responded Mrs. Potter, sympa 
 thetically. "I hope you won't have to do it to 
 night." 
 
 "I won't. That's flat. If there ain't no boy 
 there won't be no music," declared Mr. Potter, his 
 anger driving him to double negatives. "I reckon 
 Addie Von Hagen can sing without the organ if 
 she has to." 
 
 With that the sexton relapsed into silence and 
 gave undivided attention to his dinner. Mr. and
 
 78 THE CLIMAX 
 
 Mrs. Potter were dining alone. They had no chil 
 dren, and Mrs. Potter's younger sister, who lived 
 with them ordinarily, was away on a visit to Cir- 
 cleville. 
 
 "There ain't no one sayin' as Addie can't 
 sing," remarked Mrs. Potter, after a pause, during 
 which she had been ruminating over her husband's 
 last words. "But ever since I heerd her mother 
 belonged to a the-ayter troupe I've had my doubts 
 about her. I never thought she'd be allowed to 
 sing in our church choir." 
 
 "H'm !" 
 
 "Yes, I know, Solomon Potter. You think Ad 
 die Von Hagen is purty nigh perfection. But 
 there's them as believes she'll go off like her mother 
 some day, and you can't deny, as a Christian, that 
 play-actin' is godless, any way you look at it." 
 
 "Well, when she does it will be time enough to 
 talk about it," rejoined Solomon, pushing away his 
 empty plate. "Any dessert?" 
 
 "Yes, there's some strawberries and cream. I 
 put 'em out in the shop, so they'd keep cool, with 
 out me havin' to go down to the cellar." 
 
 The good lady went into the darkened shop, 
 where two long boxes standing upright against the 
 wall, and another one, cloth-covered and silver- 
 handled, lying at full length upon a pair of black
 
 THE CLIMAX 79 
 
 trestles, loomed up ghastly in the shadows. Mrs. 
 Potter had been an undertaker's wife too long to 
 give way to superstitious shudders in the pres 
 ence of a few "caskets," finished or otherwise. She 
 went to a wide shelf in one corner, where lay a 
 baby's coffin, in naked, "untrimmed" woodenness. 
 Lifting the lid, she brought forth a glass dish of 
 strawberries and a pitcher of cream. 
 
 "I had to put on the lid," she explained, "or the 
 cat might have got into the cream. These are 
 good strawberries, and I think you'll like 'em. Ah ! 
 The baby that'll go into that casket won't never 
 be old enough to eat no strawberries. Well, well, 
 it's the way of the world !" 
 
 She sighed piously, and giving her husband 
 a liberal helping of the fruit, passed him the cream, 
 and then filled her own dish, probably congratulat 
 ing herself that she had not died too young to get 
 her share of strawberries. 
 
 "I s'pose Addie'll sing a solo next Sunday?" 
 she said, interrogatively, as she spooned up some 
 cream ready to follow the strawberry she held in 
 her fingers ready to pop into her mouth. "I was 
 hopin' she'd do it this mornin'." 
 
 "She'll sing one next Sunday morning, I heard 
 'Squire Morgan say," Solomon returned. "And it's 
 to be a hummer. The music committee allow they'll
 
 8o THE CLIMAX 
 
 know from that whether she is good enough to stay 
 in the choir. I'm betting she will, for that girl can 
 sing, and I don't care what her mother was," added 
 Solomon, defiantly, as he got up from the table, to 
 take his Sunday afternoon nap in his office chair in 
 the shop, among the coffins. 
 
 While the good people of Azalia were talking 
 about her over their Sunday dinners, what was 
 Adelina doing? 
 
 Adelina? 
 
 Who was this, kneeling by the bed in the 
 dainty bedroom where the crimson roses on the 
 porch crept up to the window, her cheek pressed 
 against an old opera score on the white counter 
 pane, weeping in a tempest of passionate sobs? 
 
 Surely none other than the young girl whose 
 voice had risen so joyously in the "Venite exul- 
 temus Domino," and who had walked home from 
 the church with John Raymond, full of happiness 
 that, in singing in the choir, she had attained at 
 least one of her ambitions! 
 
 But why did she cry? Why was her bosom 
 heaving as if a battle were raging there a conflict 
 none the less violent because the contending forces 
 were confined to such a narrow space? Why did 
 she clasp the dog's-eared old opera-book to her
 
 THE CLIMAX 81 
 
 heart, and murmur so pitifully: "Mother! Mother! 
 What is right for me to do?" 
 
 What was right for her to do? Was not the 
 explanation to be found in that wild cry for guid 
 ance? Could it not have been that this day, on 
 which she had been able to set really free for the 
 first time the song that was in her, had drawn her 
 more strongly than ever toward the career for 
 which she longed? If so, how natural for her to 
 weep! Perhaps the excitement had something to 
 do with it. So sensitive a temperament must find 
 some relief, and what could there be more grateful 
 than tears? 
 
 "Mother!" she cried again, always with that 
 piteous note of doubt. "I think I love him. I'm 
 almost sure I do. But I can't give up all for him. 
 I cannot I cannot. I've been fighting it for weeks 
 and months, and now I know. I'll do what you 
 would have wished." 
 
 Full of impulse, she suddenly sprang to her 
 feet, and, kissing the old book, placed it reverently 
 on the pile with the others. Then she looked into 
 the mirror, and, with practiced fingers, straightened 
 her tumbled hair. The canary, among the roses in 
 the porch below, began to sing, as if he, too, had 
 just resolved in his mind some doubt that had been 
 troubling him.
 
 82 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "I hope my eyes are not red enough for my 
 father to notice them," said Adelina to herself. 
 
 Then she smiled at her misgiving, for she knew 
 he never looked at her closely enough for that. Be 
 sides, a little cold water would soon take out the 
 inflammation. She had not wept long. 
 
 When she went down stairs, ten minutes after 
 ward, there was nothing in her calm face to be 
 tray her, and when Harriet Wylie Daddy Wylie's 
 granddaughter, who always cooked and served 
 dinner for them on Sunday said she wished she 
 could have been at church, to hear her sing, Ade 
 lina promised that she would sing everything for 
 her after dinner that she had sung in church, so 
 that she might have some idea of how it had 
 sounded. And sing she did, with her own piano 
 accompaniment, while her father smoked his china- 
 bowled German pipe in the porch and half choked 
 the canary with tobacco. 
 
 It seemed a very short time to Adelina before 
 she was again in the choir gallery, with the smirk 
 ing Adolph Schwartz on one side and Mile. Marie 
 Connor and Saul Hunter on the other, listening 
 to her father playing a Guilmant sonata as an 
 organ prelude, through which could be heard at 
 intervals the wheezing of the air-pump in its little 
 closet. Then the service began, and the musical
 
 THE CLIMAX 83 
 
 portion, which included a contralto solo by Mile. 
 Connor, was carried through with perfect smooth 
 ness. 
 
 Adelina was rather taken aback when, after the 
 benediction, all the congregation, with the excep 
 tion of a few bashful boys in their teens, insisted 
 on shaking hands with her. Mrs. Treadhouse led 
 in the ceremony. There had been no such general 
 demonstration in the morning. Not that anyone in 
 the congregation had failed to note how the new 
 soprano had improved the quartette ; but the situa 
 tion was a delicate one, and it was felt that, unless 
 Mrs. Treadhouse should place the seal of her ap 
 proval on her successor, no one else could do it 
 with decency. 
 
 It was no secret that Susan had been z.ngry 
 when the music committee all three together, for 
 no one man had the nerve to face her with such a 
 message had told her that her resignation was re 
 quired. Indeed, for a day or two afterward, she had 
 entertained a wild purpose to defy the committee 
 and remain in the choir, even if it should mean the 
 forcible establishing of a lop-sided quintette, with 
 two warring sopranos at one end. 
 
 But the Reverend Thomas, docile fifty-one 
 Sundays in the year, could take the bit in his teeth 
 on the fifty-second, if his conscience told him that
 
 84 THE CLIMAX 
 
 duty demanded firmness. This chanced to be that 
 fifty-second Sunday, and when Mrs. Thomas spoke, 
 in the morning, before church, of showing the music 
 committee that they could not ride rough-shod over 
 her, he sternly informed her that, as pastor, he had 
 given his assent to what they had done, and there 
 fore there was nothing more to be said except 
 that he requested her to be courteous to Miss Von 
 Hagen, and quoted one or two pertinent passages 
 from Holy Writ on the evils of envy, malice and 
 uncharitableness. The result was the formal hand 
 shaking which fatigued Adelina, and found much 
 less favor with her than the sentiment conveyed. 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen was proud of his daugh 
 ter's success. He did not tell her so, but he 
 showed it by rehearsing with her at home, night 
 after night, the solo she was to sing on the follow 
 ing Sunday. On Wednesday he gave her addi 
 tional proof of .his satisfaction by taking her into 
 his confidence in, for him, an unusual way. He 
 actually told her the contents of a letter he had 
 got from the postoffice the day before rather, as 
 she suspected, because he wanted to talk to some 
 body, than with any idea of interesting her. And 
 yet the news in the letter was of some personal 
 concern to her, too. 
 
 "An old friend of your mother's, Luigi Golfanti,
 
 THE CLIMAX 85 
 
 is coming to Azalia on Saturday. He is going to 
 stay over Sunday," said Heinrich, looking up at 
 her from the piano when she had just finished her 
 solo Haydn's "With Verdure Clad," from "The 
 Creation" and was waiting for his criticism. 
 
 Adelina well remembered Signor Golfanti. 
 When she was a little child he had come to their 
 home occasionally, with his wife, to talk over old 
 days. It was then that the girl had heard remi 
 niscences of splendid triumphs on the stage, in 
 which both her mother and Signor Golfanti had 
 shared, that stirred her soul to its very depths. 
 Yes, she never could forget Signor Golfanti. 
 
 "What's he coming for, father?" 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen chuckled. 
 
 "You'll hardly believe it, but he says he heard, 
 in Cincinnati, where he is now, singing in the big 
 musical festival, that you are leading soprano at 
 an Azalia church he doesn't know we have a quar 
 tette choir and he wants to hear you sing. So, 
 on his way back to New York, he will stop off here 
 and hear your solo on Sunday. Mind you do your 
 best. Haydn is tricky in spots, but you can sing 
 him if you try hard." 
 
 "But why is Signor Golfanti so interested in 
 me as to take all this trouble to hear me sing?" she 
 asked, wonderingly.
 
 86 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you," answered her father, with 
 a shrug of the shoulders. "Luigi was in love with 
 your mother before we were married, but I won her 
 away from him." 
 
 "Yes, I've heard that." 
 
 "It seems he made a promise to your mother 
 once that, when you were old enough to sing, he 
 would do all he could to help you if you wanted 
 to make a profession of music. It was a stupid 
 thing for him to do, but these Italians are liable 
 to do anything. That's all there is to it. Now, I 
 want to show him that my daughter, under my in 
 struction, has learned to sing like her. You un 
 derstand? Luigi and some of the other jealous 
 people said I didn't treat your mother well. That 
 was all a lie, of course. But he may believe it. 
 Now, if he sees you full of life and spirit, and sing 
 ing with the animation your mother always showed 
 in opera, particularly in such roles as Carmen and 
 Zerlina, he will know better. He will see that I 
 have taken good care of your health, besides teach 
 ing you to use your voice. There's something 
 more, too. If I am good to my daughter, I must 
 have been kind to her mother." 
 
 This rather lame deduction seemed to please 
 him, for he muttered, with conviction : "Why,
 
 THE CLIMAX 87 
 
 sure! I have took care of my daughter. Then, 
 how could I be anything except a good husband?" 
 
 "Where will Signor Golf an ti live while he is in 
 Azalia?" asked Adelina. 
 
 "We shall have to make room for him. There 
 is the attic. It is big and it has four windows. The 
 air blows right through when they are open. Gol- 
 fanti ought to sleep well up there. It's a lovely 
 room." 
 
 "I hope it won't be too hot. It's immediately 
 under the roof, you know, and shingles draw the 
 sun terribly," she objected, with the anxiety of a 
 prospective hostess. 
 
 Von Hagen waved all this away with a back 
 ward sweep of the hand. 
 
 "It will be all right. Don't you worry alxmt 
 that. You put clean sheets on the bed and have a 
 mirror for him to brush his hair by, and that will 
 do. You hear me? That is enough. Eh?" 
 
 "Very well, father. I'll get Harriet to come 
 and help me fix it. But what shall we do with all 
 the lumber in the attic?" 
 
 "Lumber? What lumber?" 
 
 "All those iron music-stands." 
 
 "Oh, yes. I remember. I used them for my 
 summer concerts in Louisville that time." 
 
 "Then there is the double-bass viol, and piles
 
 88 THE CLIMAX 
 
 and piles of orchestra scores. Can I put them in 
 the wood-shed?" 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen jumped up and shook his 
 fists at the ceiling in indignant horror. 
 
 "Ach himmel !" he roared. "The wood-shed ! 
 No. Put them up against the walls music-stands, 
 everything in the attic, where they are. There'll 
 be plenty of room for Golfanti. He won't mind the 
 bass viol. He oughtn't to. It has helped him many 
 a time in the theatre, hiding his sour notes." 
 
 Adelina was a little surprised by this sneer at 
 their expected guest's voice, but she made no re 
 mark. Luigi Golfanti had been her father's rival 
 for the hand of her mother, and that must have 
 meant some bitter feeling between them. Perhaps 
 it had not all died out even now, after twenty 
 years. Adelina was sure that, if she loved anyone 
 very much, she never could forgive the woman who 
 tried to take him from her. 
 
 Why did not Adelina, in these musings, name 
 John Raymond? Why did she content herself with 
 "if I loved anyone very much?" She could have 
 given only one explanation that the words formed 
 themselves in her mind in their own way. Poor 
 John Raymond ! 
 
 Harriet and Adelina swept through the attic 
 cyclonically. They moved everything in the large
 
 THE CLIMAX 89 
 
 room, which extended the whole depth of the house 
 from back to front, and had two windows at each 
 end. Harriet a buxom maiden of seventeen, who 
 never in her life had known what it was to be 
 really tired poked a broom into every corner, and 
 completed the treatment with soap and a scrubbing- 
 brush. The musical paraphernalia was pushed 
 against the dwarf wall where the roof sloped to the 
 top of it, and when strips of carpet were laid and 
 Adelina had put the finishing touches, one would 
 hardly have known the orderly, inviting apartment 
 for the dingy, muddled attic it had been before they 
 began work. It not only looked, but smelled, dif 
 ferent. The mustiness had been swept and 
 scrubbed out of it, and instead there was the sweet 
 piney odor of the damp floor, mingled with that of 
 the roses Adelina had gathered. She would keep 
 some in the room, changing them every day, until 
 the visitor came. 
 
 It was noon on Saturday when the local train 
 on the branch road that passed through Azalia 
 brought Luigi Golfanti. Heinrich Von Hagen and 
 Adelina were at the "depot," in company with the 
 usual coterie of station loafers, to whom the coming 
 in of a train was the thrilling excitement of their 
 lives. 
 
 The crazy wooden platform was level with
 
 90 THE CLIMAX 
 
 the tracks. Near one end, where the loafers sat on 
 a bench in the shade, chewing tobacco and 
 whittling- soft pine, were the ticket and telegraph 
 office, the waiting parlor and the baggage room, all 
 under one roof which leaked villainously when it 
 rained or snowed. 
 
 "Here she comes !" announced one of the weary 
 tobacco-chewing gentlemen on the bench, and 
 everyone became galvanized into some sort of 
 movement and expectancy. "She" was the train. 
 
 It was not a train to make much fuss over, 
 judged by city standards, although it passed muster 
 in Azalia. It consisted of a locomotive long ban 
 ished from the main line as old-fashioned and nearly 
 worn out, a combination baggage-car and pas 
 senger coach, and an empty freight car to balance 
 the outfit. As it came wheezing up, the engine-bell 
 ringing maddeningly, Adelina saw, at an open win 
 dow, the face of a man whom one would have 
 known for an Italian anywhere, framed in by long 
 curly gray hair. The eyes were very dark and 
 penetrating, and there was a good-humored smile 
 rippling over the mobile mouth. A soft felt hat 
 was set back on his head as if he wanted to see 
 everything, and certainly was resolved not to be 
 annoyed by such a thing as a hat-brim. 
 
 "Hello, Luigi!" called out Von Hagen.
 
 THE CLIMAX 91 
 
 The next moment Luigi Golfanti was on the 
 station platform, holding Von Hagen by the two 
 elbows with a light touch of finger-tips, as he 
 greeted him with the smiling effusiveness which 
 would have betrayed his nativity even without any 
 other evidence. 
 
 "Ah! My Von! How you do?" he cried. "It 
 is long since I see you. Ah! It is so long!" Then, 
 turning to Adelina, he took her by the shoulders, 
 and, to the amazement of the station loafers, gazing 
 open-mouthed, he kissed her on the cheek, and 
 said, exuberantly: "This is the little Adelina. I 
 know it. I see her mother in her face. Santa 
 Maria ! How like she is ! How like !" 
 
 Adelina saw that a young fellow of about nine 
 teen, with dark eyes and hair, and heavy arched 
 eyebrows that met such a young man as Luigi 
 Golfanti must have been at his age was standing 
 in the background with an embarrassed air, hold 
 ing a suit-case. She also noticed that his eyes 
 never left her face.
 
 "And lias not such a story from of old 
 Down man's successive generations roll'd?" 
 
 "Ah! You will pardon me? I forgot. My 
 son, Pietro !" suddenly exclaimed Luigi Golfanti, 
 leading the dark-eyed young man forward. "Ade 
 lina, you must be friends with him, eh? His 
 mother's name was yours Adelina. He is a good 
 boy, but he not like to teach. What he always 
 want is write music. It is a good ambition, but it 
 not bring in much money." 
 
 A flush leaped over the cheeks of the youth as 
 Adelina gave him her hand, and he said, in his deep 
 tones, that he hoped to hear her sing in her home, 
 as well as at church. 
 
 "Do you hear that, Von?" chirped Luigi. 
 "That's my bashful son, trying to make an arrange 
 ment for Adelina to give him a private song re 
 cital. The first time he speak to her, too." 
 
 "I didn't mean that. You will be there, too, 
 won't you?" said Pietro, naively. 
 
 Luigi burst into a peal of laughter that almost 
 92
 
 THE CLIMAX 93 
 
 drowned the clanking of the engine-bell and the 
 conductor shouting "All aboard!" as the train 
 pulled out. 
 
 "He want to know whether I'll be there, when 
 he knows I've broken my journey to New York on 
 purpose. Yes, Pietro, I will be there. Which is 
 the way to the hotel, Von?" 
 
 "Ach! You will stay with us," replied Von 
 Hagen. "We have a bedroom ready for you. If 
 I'd known you had your son with you, we would 
 hav-e put in two beds." 
 
 Luigi Golfanti said nothing more about going 
 to the hotel. No doubt he had expected Von 
 Hagen's tender of a bedroom. 
 
 '"What matter about the beds? There will be 
 room in mine for Pietro. You not know he come 
 with me, eh? Well, I not tell you because I forget. 
 He only a boy, and I not think him worth while to 
 keep in my mind." 
 
 "A boy?" 
 
 "Si. He just so old as Adelina. She like him 
 when he small. He like her. Now they are 
 strangers. But they soon get over that. Ha, ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 Luigi Golfanti had an infectious laugh, and 
 Adelina joined in, while Pietro smiled. Von Hagen 
 made no response. With a grunt which might have
 
 94 THE CLIMAX 
 
 been sympathetic or not, just a/ you chose to in 
 terpret it, he marched down the platform in the di 
 rection of home. 
 
 While the station loungers still stared, as if pet 
 rified by so extraordinary a sight as these two 
 Italian strangers, Luigi insisted on drawing one of 
 the girl's arms through his own, and told Pietro to 
 take the other. Pietro hesitated, and then obeyed, 
 as Adelina smiled. In this order they paraded 
 along Main street Von Hagen in front, and the 
 others, three abreast, close on his heels. It was an 
 absurd performance. Adelina felt it, but there was 
 no way of escape. Besides, Luigi appeared to enjoy 
 it so much that it would have been cruel to object. 
 As for Pietro, he looked straight ahead, pinning her 
 hand tightly to his side with his elbow, and occa 
 sionally pulling her fingers a little forward under 
 his arm when they seemed to be slipping away. 
 He wished he were not bothered with the suit-case. 
 
 "Your father is the drum-major, Adelina. We 
 the fifes and drums, eh?" laughed Luigi, as he began 
 to play an imaginary snare-drum, but without re 
 leasing Adelina's arm. "T-r-rum ! T-r-rum ! 
 T-r-rum t-r-rum t-r-rum !" 
 
 Who could resist this child-like gaiety, wherein 
 the volatile Latin blood asserted itself, regardless 
 of place or fitness? Not Adelina. At the beginning
 
 THE CLIMAX 95 
 
 she felt a little ashamed, as she saw Mrs. Solomon 
 Potter, in the window of the undertaker shop, 
 among her husband's coffins, holding up her hands 
 in ostentatious astonishment; as Daddy Wylie, in 
 the grocery and postoffice, called Dave Rundell to 
 the door to look ; as a farmer, driving along, with 
 his wife, in a wagon whose blue paint was almost 
 entirely hidden by dust, pulled up short, and, grin 
 ning derisively, pointed at Luigi with his whip ; as 
 half a dozen other wide-eyed men and women came 
 running to the doors of their houses and stores ; as 
 curious little girls and boys, their hands behind 
 them, regarded them with solemn eyes as they 
 passed, and, finally, when she saw that a straggling 
 group of older boys had joined the procession, and 
 were tagging along in the rear, drumming with 
 hands and voice, like Luigi. 
 
 She thrust aside her embarrassment by main 
 strength. Why should she be disconcerted because 
 the neighbors, who had known her from childhood, 
 saw her in such an unusual public exhibition? They 
 would understand, of course. These strangers, to 
 whom the sober dignity of Azalia was something 
 new, and doubtless admirable, could not be ex 
 pected to absorb its splendid atmosphere, blue 
 with decorum, all at once. Besides, they were 
 "furriners," and, as all the wiseacres of this con-
 
 o6 THE CLIMAX 
 
 servative town were well aware, the customs of 
 other countries were not those of the United 
 States. Adelina had a cynical comprehension of 
 the local point of view. So she not only laughed, 
 but merrily demanded of Pietro why he didn't play 
 the fife. The youth, unspeakably ashamed of his 
 father's behavior, had been blushing furiously un 
 der the gaze of the people they passed. He smiled 
 gratefully at her. She returned the smile, shaking 
 her head coquettishly at him, as Luigi continued 
 to drum louder than ever. 
 
 And just then John Raymond turned the cor 
 ner and confronted them. 
 
 As they came noisily along, taking up the 
 whole width of the sidewalk, he stepped aside, in 
 voluntarily, while Heinrich Von Hagen, who 
 hardly knew what was going on behind him, nodded 
 carelessly to the young doctor and turned the cor 
 ner into his own street. Adelina, the smile gone 
 from her face, but with both arms still held so 
 tightly that she could not release them, stopped 
 short, compelling her two companions to do the 
 same. The rear-guard of boys, many of them bare 
 footed, not expecting the sudden halt, stumbled 
 against them tumultuously. 
 
 There was no mistaking the significance of 
 John Raymond's frown. Surprise, disgust, ang.er
 
 THE CLIMAX 97 
 
 and pain, as of one who sees a beautiful fragile 
 vase suddenly dashed down and ground to nothing 
 ness under a heavy heel all these were in his 
 face. His eyes blazed in their brown depths, and, 
 as his lips tightened, the blood left them, and his 
 mouth became a thin, livid line. He glanced once 
 at Luigi, who had stopped drumming, as at an 
 imbecile, not worthy of more than passing atten 
 tion, and, then, after a short, angry look at Pietro 
 who promptly scowled in return he gazed stead 
 ily into Adelina's face. 
 
 Only feminine tact could save such a situation. 
 Drawing her arms from their bondage with an ef 
 fort, she indicated Luigi with her right hand, and 
 said, cheerfully: 
 
 "Mr. Raymond, permit me to introduce Signer 
 Golfanti, of New York," adding, after a pause, with 
 a swift look at Raymond which he understood, and 
 in a different tone, "one of my dear mother's most 
 valued friends before I was born." 
 
 A little sigh heaved her bosom as she men 
 tioned her mother, and some of Raymond's fury 
 evaporated at the explanation, for he knew that if 
 this gray-haired Italian had been a friend of Ade 
 lina's mother, he had a claim on the girl's regard 
 which would excuse even his making her ridiculous 
 on Azalia's most important street. So he inclined
 
 98 THE CLIMAX 
 
 his head graciously, although he could not bring 
 himself to smile. Luigi Golfanti smiled, however. 
 Removing his soft hat with a flourish, he placed 
 his left hand over his heart and bowed low, saying : 
 
 "Signer, I have the honor to salute you, and 
 I thank the charming Adelina for presenting me. 
 It is a pleasure will remain always in my memory." 
 
 What could John Raymond say or do after 
 that? When Luigi pointed to Pietro, with "My 
 son, Pietro, Signor Raymond," he bowed to the 
 dark-faced young man, who, with unrelaxed brow, 
 bent his head in acknowledgment, but did not 
 speak. Then Raymond asked Luigi whether it was 
 their first visit to Azalia. 
 
 "Si," was the reply. "It is to my everlasting 
 regret that I have not been in this beautiful place 
 before. But it was not to be. It is more than six 
 hundred miles from New York. Now, when my 
 boy and I go to Cincinnati, to the festival, where 
 Pietro and I play and sing for enough to pay the 
 expense, I say to Pietro 'We must visit Azalia. I 
 not see Adelina Von Hagen since she little girl.' 
 Well, I write to her father, and he tell me she in 
 the choir and she sing a solo on Sunday. What 
 then? I write him we come, and here we are. So." 
 
 The noisy boys who had been following the im 
 promptu procession had gone away, when they saw
 
 THE CLIMAX 99 
 
 the fun was over, and Adelina led the way into 
 the street on which she and the Raymonds lived. 
 John walked by her side, displacing Pietro, who 
 did not like it, but could not help himself. He 
 saw that this tall fellow had taken possession of the 
 girl as if it were his right, and Pietro hated him. 
 His hatred was the more bitter because Raymond 
 practically ignored him, addressing all his remarks 
 to Luigi. Pietro was accustomed to his father 
 treating him as a boy, and thought nothing- of it. 
 But this stranger was different. His cool, almost 
 contemptuous, demeanor toward one who was as 
 much a man as himself, even if a few years 
 younger, was not to be borne quietly. He "would 
 demand an explanation of this Mr. Raymond, or 
 the satisfaction of a gentleman. Pietro was not 
 clear as to what form this satisfaction would take 
 in a country where a duel would lead him, possibly 
 with a rough policeman's grasp on his coat-collar, 
 to a prosaic prison cell. But he would find some 
 way of revenging himself. Yes, he would find some 
 way. He slammed the suit-case against a tree in 
 impotent rage. 
 
 Not only did Raymond leave him out of the 
 conversation deliberately and with malice, of 
 course but he had had the insolence to push Pie 
 tro aside, almost, so that he (Raymond) could, stroll
 
 ioo THE CLIMAX 
 
 along with Adelina. Pietro, as he walked behind, 
 saw him slyly take her hand once, and she let her 
 hand stay in his while Pietro counted three before 
 drawing it gently away. Pietro saw this. It was 
 not as if somebody else had told him. In that case, 
 it might not have been true. But he had the evi 
 dence of his own eyes, and a very miserable young 
 man it made him. 
 
 "You knew Adelina when she was a child, be 
 fore she came to Azalia, then?" inquired Raymond, 
 as they walked along by the laurel-hung picket- 
 fences under the whispering elms. 
 
 "Si. Her mother was my cousin. So Adelina 
 is our cousin, too mine and Pietro's." 
 
 Pietro shot a swift glance of exultation at 
 Raymond. At least, this self-sufficient personage 
 was not her relative. Pietro had the advantage 
 of him there. 
 
 "Aren't we taking you out of your way, John ?" 
 Adelina asked him. "You were going down Main 
 street, and now you are coming back. I hope we 
 are not keeping you from some patient who needs 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, no. I was only going to Root's drug 
 store for some calomel pills and quinine. I always 
 carry them with me when I make my round of
 
 THE CLIMAX 101 
 
 calls, and I find myself nearly out. But I can get 
 them later." 
 
 So this Raymond was a doctor. Pietro never 
 had known a doctor who didn't think himself wiser 
 and better than other people. But Pietro was sure 
 of one thing if he were sick, he would rather die 
 than trust himself in the hands of Doctor Ray 
 mond. And why did she call him "John" so fa 
 miliarly? 
 
 The four of them went slowly along, Pietro 
 viciously kicking the cinders from the path with 
 his heel from time to time, and Luigi enjoying the 
 soft beauty of the scene with the delight an artist 
 always finds in the country. Pietro had the ca 
 pacity of artistic appreciation as well as his father, 
 but his heart was too full of unavailing bitterness 
 just now to look at anything except the broad 
 back of John Raymond, perfect summer day as it 
 was. 
 
 "Your father is home already, Adelina," re 
 marked Raymond, as Von Hagen stopped at the 
 gate and looked toward them, surprised to find that 
 they had lagged so far behind. 
 
 "You'll come in, John, won't you?" Adelina 
 asked, as they quickened their pace. "I want to 
 give you a pansy to wear in your coat." 
 
 "Over your heart," put in Luigi, as he placed
 
 102 THE CLIMAX 
 
 his right forefinger along the side of his nose know 
 ingly, and smiled. 
 
 "Do you think I need it?" asked Raymond, 
 softly, of Adelina. 
 
 "Don't you think we all need it more or less?'' 
 
 Raymond nodded, and again Pietro saw him 
 take her hand, and again she did not withdraw it 
 immediately. 
 
 "I'll come as far as the garden for the heart's- 
 ease pansy, I mean," Raymond said, and did not 
 say anything more until they had reached the gate, 
 when, Von Hagen having already entered, he stood 
 aside to let Luigi and Pietro go in, following them 
 up the garden-path with Adelina. 
 
 Von Hagen ushered his guests into the shady 
 front room where stood Adelina's piano. Her sheet- 
 music lay there open, just as she had left it after 
 rehearsing her solo for Sunday, and her father's 
 violin, in its case, was on a chair close by. Pietro 
 took in all the details of the apartment as soon as 
 he was inside the door, and his fingers itched to 
 try the piano. 
 
 "I'll show you your room, Luigi," volunteered 
 Von Hagen. "Perhaps you and your son would 
 like to wash up, after your journey?" 
 
 "Si. That a good idea. But you will not 
 come ttp. It is not necessary to give you the fa-
 
 THE CLIMAX 103 
 
 tigue. Tell us where it is, and Pietro and I we find 
 it." 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen was not fond of climbing 
 stairs, and he was grateful to Luigi. 
 
 "It's at the top of the house. There's only one 
 room, so you can't miss it," he said. 
 
 "Buono! We get there. Come, Pietro!" 
 
 Pietro did not respond. He was looking out of 
 the window, through the rose-vines, where the 
 crimson ramblers swayed in the gentle summer 
 breeze, at two figures in the garden. One of them, 
 in a light frock, was stooping over a pansy-bed, 
 while the other, whom Pietro hated, held her hand, 
 pretending she needed his assistance to save her 
 from falling forward among the flowers. 
 
 "Pietro !" 
 
 Luigi called him a second time, sharply, and he 
 came to himself with a jerk. 
 
 "What is it, father?" 
 
 "Come up stairs, and bring the suit-case with 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 He took up the suit-case from the floor, and, 
 after glowering once more through the window 
 toward the pansy-bed, went out of the room and 
 up the stairs after his parent. 
 
 "It make you puff, eh, Pietro?" laughed Luigi,
 
 104 THE CLIMAX 
 
 as they entered the great attic on the third story. 
 "I hear you." 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 But the sound Luigi had heard which he sup 
 posed to be a catching of the breath, caused by 
 carrying the heavy suit-case up so many stairs, 
 was really a sigh. If he had known what was pass 
 ing in his son's mind as the young man went over 
 to one of the front windows and peered down into 
 the garden, he would have called Pietro a fool.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "The melting voice through mazes running 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 The hidden soul of harmony." 
 
 Pietro Goifanti was up early the next morning. 
 It was not that the distracting thoughts which had 
 made him sigh so heavily at the top of the stairs 
 had disturbed his rest. His digestion was too good 
 to permit him to be rendered sleepless by the first 
 assault from a pretty girl's eyes. Neither could 
 such embryotic jealousy as had made him learn 
 to hate John Raymond in the few minutes it had 
 taken to walk from the corner of Main street to her 
 father's garden gate stretch him helpless on the hot 
 griddle of insomnia. He was up soon after day 
 break simply because he had retired early the 
 night before, and his healthy young constitution 
 demanded only a reasonable amount of honest 
 sleep. Once awake, the matin song of the birds 
 and the dewy fragrance of the awakening flowers 
 invited his soul, and, after a rapid, but quiet, toilet, 
 so that he would not disturb his father, who en 
 joyed a morning slumber, he stole softly down the 
 
 105
 
 io6 THE CLIMAX 
 
 staircase and let himself out, without encountering 
 anyone. 
 
 He walked down the garden and along the 
 cinder-path, in the opposite direction from Main 
 street, past four more houses like Von Hagen's and 
 Raymond's, and then struck into a lane, between 
 snake-fences and hedgerows alternately, until he 
 found himself in the real country. Habitations had 
 ceased altogether, and after crossing the creek 
 bridge under the sycamores, he plunged into a 
 thicket, where hundreds of birds were holding noisy 
 revel in the tree-tops. Throwing himself upon a 
 knoll of soft moss under an ancient oak, he listened. 
 He could hear the splashing and rippling of the 
 creek accompanying the bird-voices, and once he 
 caught the tinkle of a cow-bell so far away that it 
 was sweetened into music. Subconsciously, he be 
 gan to gather the woodland sounds into musical 
 phrases and chords, until he had evolved an or 
 derly harmonic theme. The composer was not to 
 be denied. He took a folded page of music-paper 
 from his pocket and hastily scribbled some notes 
 until he had enough written down to keep the mel 
 ody in his mind. Pietro loved composition, and it 
 was his habit always to carry paper of this kind, 
 ruled with the five lines of the music staff, ready 
 for his fountain-pen at any time or place.
 
 THE CLIMAX 107 
 
 "There is the foundation of something, at all 
 events," he said to himself, at last, as he got up, 
 and, sauntering over the bridge, the way he had 
 come, turned over and over in his mind the musical 
 thought he had just jotted down. 
 
 It was so calm and still that he could hardly 
 believe -it was the ordinary every-day condition 
 even of this country place, far away from the city's 
 bustle and discord. Born and bred in town, he 
 had never experienced anything quite like this, and 
 he could not help feeling that there must be some 
 noise before long. It might not be so unpleasant 
 as that with which he was familiar in some parts 
 of New York, but surely there would be some. All 
 at once, he understood or thought he did. It was 
 Sunday morning. He had forgotten it until now. 
 Doubtless that was the reason of this glorious 
 quiet vide. On other mornings, of course, there 
 would be the din and jar of man's occupations. 
 Perhaps there was a factory or two not far off. If 
 not that, at least, there must be other smaller in 
 dustries, dozens of them, that on week days would 
 break rudely on the ear even at this early hour. 
 Then farm-hands made harsh noises bellowing at 
 their horses as they drove strange machines of 
 whirling spikes and clanking cogs across the fields.
 
 io8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 All these would be heard on other days. But not 
 on Sunday. 
 
 "I am glad it is Sunday," said Pietro, aloud, 
 when he had argued it all out, and he walked on, 
 congratulating himself, until he reached the garden 
 gate of the house where he and his father were 
 guests. 
 
 "Good morning, Pietro !" 
 
 He started and flushed with pleasure, for it was 
 the voice of Adelina Von Hagen, and she had called 
 him by his given name. She was coming down the 
 garden-path, among the rose-bushes, radiant and 
 fresh as the morning itself. She wore her usual 
 white summer frock, and her loosely-tressed hair, 
 burnished by the golden sunshine, crowned her 
 with "angelic glory," as Pietro put it to himself. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Von Hagen," he said. 
 (It was a commonplace way in which to address 
 an angel, but he could not think of anything else 
 to say at the moment.) "I have been for a walk. 
 It is very beautiful here. I found a place in the 
 wood on the other side of that river which 
 
 She interrupted him with a merry laugh, hold 
 ing up her hands deprecatingly. 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Pietro. We are not so 
 benighted in Azalia as to believe our poor little 
 creek is a river."
 
 THE CLIMAX 109 
 
 "I'm sorry I made a mistake, Miss Von Hagen. 
 I was only going to say that the wood was like a 
 fairy dell." 
 
 ''You are a poet, Pietro." 
 
 "I am a musician, Miss Von Hagen." 
 
 "I understand. The words are synonymous, of 
 course. But you must not say 'Miss Von Hagen' 
 when you speak to me. We are cousins, you know, 
 and it must be 'Adelina.' I call you 'Pietro.' 
 Cousins are almost like brothers and sisters, I al 
 ways think." 
 
 "But there is a difference," said Pietro, gravely, 
 shaking his head. "Although I never had a sister, 
 I'm sure you would never be like one to me Ade- 
 lina." 
 
 There ! He had said it to her, and although 
 he had repeated the name to himself many times 
 since he had first met her as a grown-up young 
 lady the afternoon before, it was with hesitation 
 he had uttered it now, almost as if it were a word 
 difficult to pronounce. And certainly, in itself, it 
 was not. It was as mellifluous a marshaling of 
 syllables as ever made up a girl's name. It rolled 
 off the tongue of that Doctor Raymond smoothly 
 enough confound him! 
 
 "That's right, Pietro," she said, approvingly.
 
 i io THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Always call me 'Adelina,' because we are going to 
 be good friends, as well as cousins, I am sure." 
 
 She was endeavoring to put him at his ease, 
 and he rather rebelled inwardly against her assist 
 ance. He was a man a man of the world and he 
 should not be bashful before a girl, no matter 
 how fascinating she might be. But he was not at 
 his ease, somehow, and, unhappily for his pride, 
 it was quite apparent to her. It made him angry, 
 but only with himself. 
 
 "I suppose there is some distinction between 
 sisters and cousins," she continued, more thought 
 fully, but still with a smile dimpling her cheeks, 
 as they walked up the garden toward the porch. 
 "Did you ever hear that old song about cousins, 
 Pietro? One of the verses runs like this: 
 
 "Had you ever a cousin, Tom? 
 
 Did your cousin happen to sing? 
 Sisters we have by the dozen, Tom ; 
 
 But a cousin's a different thing." 
 
 She sang the lines to an old-fashioned air, while 
 Pietro listened with a rapt admiration such as he 
 might have bestowed on a Miltonic poem in a 
 Beethoven setting. 
 
 "I never heard that verse, but it is full of 
 truth," was his sober comment. "I am glad we are 
 cousins distant cousins."
 
 THE CLIMAX in 
 
 She only laughed at this. Too unaffected to 
 pretend she did not know what the speech meant, 
 it would have been tiresome to pursue the subject 
 further. So she told him her father was down 
 stairs she could see him prowling about the hall 
 and therefore they'd better go in for breakfast. 
 
 Harriet Wylie would not be there, to take 
 charge of the household, until nine o'clock. There 
 fore, it was Adelina who prepared breakfast in the 
 summer kitchen and served it in the adjoining din 
 ing-room, and all without bustle or excitement. 
 
 Luigi Golfanti came down just as she brought 
 the freshly-laid eggs to the table, having boiled 
 them to the exact point where they were perfect, 
 as he solemnly declared a little later. Before seat 
 ing himself he bowed to her, and then to her father, 
 with a grace which Adelina thought thoroughly 
 Italian and charming, as she took her place behind 
 the coffee-urn. 
 
 "Sit here, won't you, Signer Golfanti," she 
 said, indicating a chair on her right, down the side 
 of the table. Her father was on her left, and Pietro 
 faced her, so that the little party just filled the four 
 sides of the square table. 
 
 "This is the happiness, to be so near the beau 
 tiful prima donna," said Luigi, as he took his cup
 
 ii2 THE CLIMAX 
 
 of coffee from her, making a playful pretence of 
 kissing her fingers during the process. 
 
 "Take care, Signer. You will spill the hot cof 
 fee up your sleeve," she warned him. 
 
 "What I care for that, if my lips touch your 
 hand?" was his gallant response. 
 
 He was so full of spirits, so loud and jovial, 
 so easy in his badinage with the girl, that Pietro 
 envied him the added years which had brought with 
 them such useful self-possession. 
 
 "Beautiful eggs!" observed Luigi, having al 
 ready complimented Adelina on the cooking of 
 them. "I suppose you get them from your own 
 chickens, eh?" 
 
 "Yes. We have a great many well-behaved 
 hens, who serve us with all the eggs we require for 
 the table. They are dominated by a black Spanish 
 rooster, and he sees that they do their duty. After 
 breakfast I will show you that rooster." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 "You, too, Pietro," she added, quickly, as she 
 saw dawning disappointment in his face, and knew 
 that he was at the point of feeling slighted. 
 
 He brightened up immediately, and as Von 
 Hagen, who had been silently devouring his food 
 and absorbing his coffee, without taking much 
 notice of anything else, now began to talk about
 
 THE CLIMAX 113 
 
 the stupidity of the people of Azalia, none of whom 
 could learn to play the violin, Pietro listened with 
 attention, making observations on music from time 
 to time which gave Von Hagen a high opinion of 
 the young man's discernment. 
 
 The two visitors had made great way into the 
 favor of both father and daughter since they had 
 met at the railroad station. The night before, after 
 supper, there had been music, and Pietro had had 
 the felicity of playing accompaniments for several 
 of Adelina's songs. 
 
 John Raymond had been there, and Pietro re 
 joiced that this doctor could not play the piano. 
 More than once, as he played, with Adelina stand 
 ing so close to him that her lace sleeve touched his 
 hair, Pietro looked over to Raymond to see how 
 he bore it. But the doctor seemed not to take any 
 particular notice. He appeared to be enjoying the 
 music, as he lay back comfortably in a low rocker 
 Adelina's own chair and, if he was jealous, it did 
 not appear on the surface. 
 
 "He believes he's sure of her, I suppose." 
 
 Pietro ground his teeth and struck such a 
 mighty chord so much louder than the "/>." on his 
 music called for that Adelina looked down at him 
 in astonishment, and Raymond stopped rocking for 
 an instant.
 
 ii 4 THE CLIMAX 
 
 But the evening had ended without any out 
 break early, as was the custom in the Von Hagen 
 household and Raymond had departed with a sim 
 ple "Good night" to her in the well-lighted music- 
 room, with the others all present. There had been 
 no private farewell outside, in the semi-darkness 
 of the porch, as Pietro had feared there might be. 
 And yet, if the doctor and Adelina had chosen to 
 go to the porch to say "Good night," what busi 
 ness would it have been of Pietro Golfanti's? 
 
 This was the question Pietro asked himself, in 
 monotonous repetition, this morning, always with 
 out finding an answer, as, after breakfast, Adelina 
 took them to the back yard and showed him and 
 his father the lordly black Spanish rooster, step 
 ping high among the cackling hens who darted 
 hither and thither to gobble down the dainty mor 
 sels he scratched up for them. When they re 
 turned to the house to get ready for church it was 
 still in his mind. 
 
 Afterward it became painfully insistent as he 
 caught glimpses of the flowers in her hat above 
 the red curtains of the choir-gallery, while her 
 father played the organ prelude and the Reverend 
 Thomas Treadhouse took his place on the pulpit 
 platform. 
 
 Pietro was crlad he and his father were seated
 
 THE CLIMAX 115 
 
 in front of John Raymond, so that it was not neces 
 sary to look at the doctor at all during the service. 
 Adelina had walked to church with Pietro, her 
 father and Luigi, and Pietro had seen Raymond 
 enter later, going to a pew without the opportunity 
 of exchanging a word or look with her. There was 
 some satisfaction in that. 
 
 The service began, and Pietro would have 
 liked to wring the neck of Adolph Schwartz for 
 standing so close to her while they sang the "Ex- 
 ultemns." Luigi did not notice Adolph's misde 
 meanor. He was taken up with the music, and, 
 while thinking how good a choir it was for a coun 
 try church, gave much of the credit for its excel 
 lence to the soprano, whose pure quality had al 
 ready filled his musician's soul with delight when 
 Adelina sang bits from the operas he knew so well 
 on the evening before. 
 
 Pietro appreciated the voice, too, but it is to 
 be feared that, for the time being, he was more in 
 terested in the singer than her work. He calmed 
 down, however, when he thought he saw that she 
 deliberately snubbed the blond tenor by turning 
 her back on him. Then Pietro was able to con 
 centrate his attention on the music. 
 
 Adelina's part in the quartette gave earnest of 
 what she would do in the solo, and it was only
 
 Ii6 THE CLIMAX 
 
 Luic;i and Pietro who were filled with eager antici 
 pation when at last she stood up alone to sing the 
 selection from Haydn's "Creation" which she had 
 chosen for her first single number in St. Jude's 
 choir. The church was full, and everyone was 
 anxious to hear how the new soprano would acquit 
 herself. 
 
 This solo would be Adelina's supreme test, and 
 although her father and John Raymond both were 
 certain that she would come through it in triumph, 
 and Susan Treadhouse, while devoutly hoping she 
 would fail, had not the slightest expectation of any 
 thing of the kind, Adelina could not repress alto 
 gether a tremor of nervousness as she faced the 
 congregation by herself, while her father ran over 
 the prelude on the organ. But the nervousness 
 vanished as she began to sing. The beautiful words 
 of "With Verdure Clad," with' the majestic music 
 to which they were wedded, made her forget all else. 
 Her technique was so nearly perfect that only the 
 highly-trained and sensitive ear of Luigi Golfanti 
 might detect any shortcoming, and even he was 
 not sure. Her father, who had his own cares with 
 the organ for there was a novice at the pump, 
 and he was fearful that his supply of wind might 
 run out at any moment noted that her time was 
 correct, and therefore was satisfied with her sing-
 
 THE CLIMAX 117 
 
 ing. John Raymond enjoyed it, but with the inde 
 finable pang at his heart that always was there 
 when she sang in public. 
 
 Susan Treadhouse mentally admitted that she 
 could not have done it any better herself. Mrs. 
 Solomon Potter, Miss Crupp, Mrs. Wilkins and 
 other members of the Sewing Circle liked the 
 music so much that they were inclined to believe 
 it was wicked to let it be sung in church. As Mrs. 
 Potter said afterward, she felt almost as if she 
 were "at the Eyetalian opera, listenin' to one o' 
 them actresses in short skirts an' flesh-colored 
 tights I've heerd tell about." Mrs. Potter's impres 
 sions of the lyric stage were confined to what she 
 had been told by people whose information, like 
 her own, was derived from hearsay, and she never 
 could divest herself of the conviction that every 
 prominent cantatrice was habitually costumed like 
 a ballet-dancer. The Rev. Mr. Treadhouse, who 
 had a sincere love of music, although he never 
 could sing a note, sat through the solo in a reverie 
 of delight, one knee crossed over the other, and his 
 two hands, joined by the tips of the fingers, gently 
 oscillating in front of him. 
 
 The first movement of the melody was soft and 
 
 low, but low as it was, not much more than a 
 
 whisper, the girl's rich tones penetrated to every
 
 u8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 corner of the church. As she went on there were 
 brilliant passages of greater volume, with several 
 that called forth all the power of execution that a 
 cultivated voice should possess. Adelina was equal 
 to them all, and when at last she stood silent, while 
 the organ finished the accompaniment, there were 
 many there, notably Luigi Golfanti, who would 
 have liked to give vent to their feelings in vigorous 
 applause. Indeed, Luigi actually had raised his 
 hands, as if about to clap them together, and per 
 haps would have done so, had not Pietro, aware 
 of his father's propensity to forget everything else 
 when in a state of musical ecstasy, pulled his 
 sleeve, to remind him that he was in a church, and 
 not an opera house. 
 
 Adelina could not escape the numerous con 
 gratulations awaiting her at the end of the service, 
 but she got away as soon as she could, and, 
 with a general smile to the enthusiastic congrega 
 tion massed on the steps, and after a grasp of the 
 hand demanded by Daddy Wylie who was dodder 
 ing about on the sidewalk, determined to tell her 
 that she was a "gosh-blamed good singer, by 
 heck !" she took her father's arm and whispered to 
 him to hurry. She wanted to get to her own room 
 before John Raymond would have a chance to
 
 THE CLIMAX 119 
 
 speak to her. She felt that she could not stand 
 him just now. 
 
 How it would have rejoiced Pietro could he 
 have known why she ran away, leaving him 
 hemmed in by a group of ladies, to whom Mrs. 
 Potter was introducing him and his father with 
 much unction, as "Signer" (with a hard "g") Gol- 
 fanti and Mr. Pietro Golfanti, of New York." 
 Mrs. Potter had previously caught John Raymond 
 and demanded an introduction to them for herself, 
 so that she could assume the office of sponsor for 
 the distinguished strangers to the other ladies. 
 Pietro saw Adelina go away with her father, and, 
 while he was disappointed that he had not been 
 able to walk with her, he had the consolation of 
 noting that Doctor Raymond also was shipwrecked 
 with himself and his father in this roaring sea of 
 feminine curiosity and inconsequential jabber. 
 
 Adelina did not cry on her bed this Sunday, 
 as she had done a week before. There were two 
 reasons why she did not. She was happy in her 
 success, and she had made up her mind. The bit 
 ter mental struggle when she had wept over 
 her mother's opera score had cleared the air for 
 her, and she knew now that she had reached an 
 irrevocable decision for the future. Sooner or later 
 she must burst the bonds that held her in this nar-
 
 120 THE CLIMAX 
 
 row life. Her wings were spread already to carry 
 her into the boundless ether of art, and she must 
 make the flight, no matter where it might end. It 
 was to be alone with her ambition for a few min 
 utes that she had hastened home with her father. 
 As she went up the stairs she heard him grumbling 
 at Harriet because the dinner would be fifteen 
 minutes late.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "And Death in time doth change 
 It to a clod of clay." 
 
 Adelina settled down into her place in the 
 quartette as if she found in it all the scope for her 
 musical development that she could desire. No 
 doubt she would be entirely satisfied now. That 
 was John Raymond's hope. She never had said 
 anything about her determination to sing in 
 opera since the Sunday on which she first be 
 came part of St. Jude's choir. What was in her 
 mind in that connection no one knew but herself. 
 She filled her duties, household as well as musical, 
 to the satisfaction of her father and the music com 
 mittee, and if a vision of a great opera house, filled 
 with applauding people, was often before her, she 
 kept the picture hidden away as one of the secret 
 treasures of her mind. When she stood up, Sunday 
 after Sunday, to sing some song of praise or sup 
 plication to the music on one of the immortals of 
 the past, she may have compared the ugly little 
 
 121
 
 122 THE CLIMAX 
 
 choir-gallery, with its tawdry furnishings, to the 
 magnificent theatre of her dreams in which she 
 was resolved to sing some day. In fact, she did. 
 An ambitious girl's thoughts will run away with 
 her sometimes, you know. 
 
 No one in St. Jude's congregation caught any 
 suggestion of these dreams in her looks, however. 
 Her demeanor in the choir was that of one thor 
 oughly contented. Adolph Schwartz irritated her 
 a little. But she interposed a barrier of incredu 
 lous amusement when he tried to be sentimen 
 tal, and he never could break through or climb 
 over. The other two members of the quartette at 
 tended strictly to their own affairs. Mile. Marie 
 Connor sang her contralto music with the care and 
 precision that had made her a successful milliner. 
 Those qualities are as valuable in a choir-gallery 
 as in a shop. Saul Hunter contributed his resonant 
 bass regularly, but harvest time was approaching, 
 and there were hard days ahead in the wheat fields. 
 Saul wished the church would close for two 
 months, at least. But there would be no such ex 
 tended vacation as that for St. Jude's choir. It 
 was customary to suspend service for two Sundays 
 in August, to give the pastor a rest; that was all. 
 The people of Azalia did not leave home in the 
 summer, and there was not the excuse, made for
 
 THE CLIMAX 123 
 
 city churches, that there would be no attendance 
 in the heated term, anyhow, and therefore the pas 
 tor might as well go to the seashore, or to Europe 
 or to Jericho, if he pleased. 
 
 So Adelina sang in the choir, while the sum 
 mer passed. Saul Hunter helped to get in the 
 wheat in due course; Mile. Marie Connor was 
 studying the New York magazines for the Paris 
 fall hat fashions, and Adolph Schwartz said he had 
 never before done such a rushing trade at the drug 
 store in ice-cream sodas, sundaes and "Knocksie." 
 Summer was almost ready to gasp its last. August 
 had arrived, and soon it would be September, and 
 then October. 
 
 Heinrich Von Hagen had had a letter from Luigi 
 Golfanti, saying that he had sent him a certain 
 Joachim "Scherzo" for the violin about which Von 
 Hagen had spoken enthusiastically and covetously 
 when Luigi and his son were in Azalia. Accom 
 panying the "Scherzo" was a manuscript composi 
 tion by Pietro, full of lilting melody, and with 
 queer little turns and unexpected chromatics sug 
 gesting the sounds of the woods on a summer morn 
 ing. Even before her father told her the Pietro 
 music was for her, she knew it, and when she sa\v 
 it was entitled "Azalia A Fragment," she needed 
 not to to informed where the composer had found
 
 124 THE CLIMAX 
 
 his inspiration. There were no words, but the 
 melody was there in a single line, as if for the voice, 
 with the rippling accompaniment, in full harmony 
 for the piano, underneath. 
 
 "I must go and try it," she cried, delightedly, 
 as soon as the sheet of paper was in her hand. 
 
 Going to the piano, she sang a "La-la-la-la" 
 for the voice part, playing the accompaniment with 
 an easy, flowing, sure touch, due primarily to those 
 endless Czerny exercises she had begun as a child. 
 
 "Isn't it beautiful?" she called out to her 
 father, over her shoulder. "Pietro should be a 1 
 *reat composer some day. Don't you think so?" 
 
 "It's musicianly," admitted her father, as he 
 took out his violin to try the "Scherzo." "Of 
 course, it's founded on a Mendelssohn movement 
 there's no mistaking that but it has as much origi 
 nality as you ever find in a piece written now 
 adays." 
 
 This was as high praise as Heinrich Von 
 Hagen ever would vouchsafe to a modern composi 
 tion more than he gave usually. Adelina did not 
 care whether Mendelssohn had suggested it to Pie 
 tro or not. It breathed the odor of the woods and 
 flowers, and echoed the songs of the wild birds, 
 and probably Mendelssohn knew nothing about 
 them now. How vividly the music brought to
 
 THE CLIMAX 125 
 
 her the dewy morning in June when Pietro came 
 back from his early stroll and talked to her in the 
 garden about cousins ! 
 
 "Pietro is a very interesting boy," she said to 
 herself. "I hope he'll marry some nice girl when 
 IK'S old enough." 
 
 Pietro was only a few weeks younger than 
 herself, but a youth of nineteen is a mere child to 
 many girls of the same age. 
 
 She sang over her "Fragment" twice, and then 
 was required to furnish the piano accompaniment 
 for the Joachim piece, while her father hugged his 
 violin lovingly under his chin and swept the bow 
 across the strings with a freedom and grace which 
 proclaimed him master of his instrument. Playing 
 his violin was Heinrich Von Hagen's compensation 
 for what he called his "pile-driving" at the organ. 
 
 John Raymond heard the "Scherzo" as he 
 walked swiftly down his garden on his way to call 
 on his patients. He remarked that it was 
 "pretty," and then dismissed it from his mind. He 
 had no time for music just then. Dr. Simmons 
 who had been present professionally when most of 
 the younger generation of Azalians came into the 
 world had a large part of the practice of Azalia 
 and the outlying country, but left it mostly to Ray 
 mond. He was getting old, and was willing
 
 126 THE CLIMAX 
 
 enough to turn over to the younger man such cases 
 as would consent to the substitution. So John was 
 kept fairly busy, and had, besides, the advantage 
 of Dr. Simmons' counsel, when confronted with 
 some baffling medical problem. Sooner or later, 
 however, the young doctor meant to get to New 
 York, to spend perhaps a year in the hospitals 
 there, and to study under more favorable condi 
 tions the close and deep relation between the body 
 and the soul to which science has given the name 
 of psychophysics. This branch of his profession 
 had interested him more than anything else he 
 had probed into as a medical student, and he w?nted 
 to learn all about it that modern research had 
 brought out. Nowhere, he was sure, could he do 
 that so well as in New York. 
 
 Raymond walked briskly about on this morn 
 ing. It was one of his busy days. He saw that 
 little Lucy Williams was progressing favor 
 ably with the measles and warned her mother 
 not to let her take cold ; put a fresh poultice on 
 Franz Eberhardt's "run-around ;" prescribed pow 
 ders for Miss Crupp's nerves, and cheerfully poured 
 a powder on her tongue, to show her how they 
 were to be taken ; gave Colonel Granger, landlord 
 of the hotel, some advice as to his diet, and told 
 him to take a calomel pill to relieve the fullness in
 
 THE CLIMAX 127 
 
 his head; looked at the plaster cast on the broken 
 leg of Joe Dunning, the carpenter, as he lay in 
 
 bed, fuming at the confinement, and went to half 
 a dozen other places before getting into his buggy 
 at the hotel, to drive out to the country. 
 
 There were a great many miles to be covered 
 in the buggy outside of Azalia. Farms lie far apart 
 in that region, and as the patients Doctor Raymond 
 had to visit were all in farmers' families, the ser 
 viceable road mare he drove no doubt felt that she 
 had earned her oats when at last she rounded Hun 
 ter's barn and came trotting down the white road 
 on the homestretch. Raymond was hot and tired 
 when, having delivered the rig to Sammy Granger 
 yawning, as usual, he walked toward home and 
 sapper. 
 
 John Raymond never could say certainly 
 whether he had a premonition of evil that after 
 noon, even before he turned into his own street 
 whether some occult power brought to his con 
 sciousness a vague warning of what he would find 
 when he had gone a hundred yards further. While 
 he was not superstitious, he did believe there were 
 psychic forces, unsuspected until late years, ever 
 actively taking a part in human affairs. He thought 
 afterward that he must have known something f 
 what Adelina had to show him, when, white-faced
 
 128 THE CLIMAX 
 
 and trembling, she called to him as he was about 
 to open his own gate, and asked him to come in 
 and see her father. 
 
 "What is it, Addie? Is he ill?" 
 
 "I don't know," she answered, in a low, 
 strained voice. "Please come." 
 
 "Of course I will." 
 
 He walked swiftly up the garden-path, past 
 the flower-beds, where the pansies still bloomed, 
 and through the porch to the interior of the house. 
 The girl was close behind him. 
 
 Once inside, it was not necessary to ask her 
 where he would find her father. The door of the 
 music-room, on the left of the hall, was wide open. 
 Stretched diagonally across the drugget which 
 covered the centre of the otherwise bare floor, was 
 Heinrich Von Hagen, face downward. 
 
 "Perhaps you'd better go out to the fresh air," 
 whispered Raymond. 
 
 Adelina shook her head. She was already in 
 side the room. 
 
 "I want to see," she said, hoarsely. "I moved 
 his head a little before I went out, but his face 
 frightened me, and I ran away, down the garden. 
 Then I saw you coming, and now I am not afraid." 
 
 John Raymond gently forced her upon a chair 
 near the door, a*nd knelt by the side of the still
 
 THE CLIMAX 129 
 
 figure on the drugget. With the coolness of his 
 profession for he was now a physician, and noth 
 ing more he placed his two hands underneath and 
 turned over what a few minutes before had been 
 Heinrich Von Hagen. In moving it, his doctor's 
 instinct made him seize one of the wrists. His 
 other hand went inside the waistcoat, to find the 
 heart. There was a minute of silence, and then 
 Raymond, looking pityingly at Adelina, said, as 
 he pointed to a shattered violin on the floor : 
 
 "He was playing when stricken, evidently." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Was he alone?" 
 
 "Yes. I was in the kitchen, getting supper." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I heard him playing a new piece of music 
 he got from New York to-day and then, just as 
 he reached the most brilliant passage, at the end, 
 he he broke down. It was so unusual for him 
 to do anything of that kind that I stopped what 
 I was doing in the kitchen, to listen. He went 
 back to the beginning of the difficult part and tried 
 again. He played not more than two measures, 
 and then it seemed to me as if the violin screamed 
 for help. Before I could move I heard him groan, 
 and then fall." 
 
 She had taken one of John Raymond's hands
 
 130 THE CLIMAX 
 
 as he stood before her to hide what lay on the 
 drugget. He regarded her anxiously and pressed 
 two steady fingers against her wrist. Her pulse 
 was galloping. 
 
 "You ran to him, and then went out of the 
 house to look for assistance?" he suggested. 
 
 "Yes. But you have not told me. Is he '' 
 
 She did not finish the sentence, and Raymond 
 nodded gravely. 
 
 "Cardiacal collapse," he said. "Heart failure. 
 It was practically instantaneous. Come with me. 
 My sister will take care of you. I will attend to 
 everything necessary here." 
 
 He kept her hand as she rose from the chair, 
 and carefully keeping between her and the drugget, 
 led her out of the house and around to his own 
 door, where Carrie met them, with a look of as 
 tonishment that made her eyes seem twice their 
 natural size. 
 
 "Carrie, take her to your own room," said 
 John Raymond. "She has had a great shock and 
 needs quiet. Don't ask her questions." 
 
 Carrie wanted to ask a lot of questions, but, as 
 her brother was not accustomed to giving per 
 emptory orders except in his character of physi 
 cian, she understood at once that he must be 
 obeyed. She put an arm affectionately around
 
 THE CLIMAX 131 
 
 Adelina, while Raymond remained on the porch, 
 watching them. 
 
 "My father is dead, Carrie." 
 
 This was said altogether too calmly to please 
 the doctor. It did not speak well for the state of 
 the nerves when a girl could tell without a quiver 
 of such a happening. He gave Carrie a look which 
 conveyed to her that she must not ask for details. 
 So, with her arm still around Adelina, she mur 
 mured, sympathetically : 
 
 "I feared it was something like that, dear. 
 Well, it comes to us all in a very few years. It 
 may be that it's better when it is sudden. It spares 
 lingering pain for those who are left behind, as well 
 as for the one who passes away. Then you have 
 the comfort of knowing that you always were a 
 dutiful, affectionate daughter, and that he knew, 
 it, too." 
 
 Merely commonplace consolation, offered by a 
 commonplace young woman. But who that has had 
 a grief like Adelina's does not know how soothing 
 these commonplaces can be to a bruised heart? 
 
 She wept quietly as she went up stairs with 
 Carrie Raymond, while John returned to the house 
 where, on the floor of the music-room, with up 
 turned face, lay the dead man, a broken violin on 
 one side of him and a bow on the other. Raymond
 
 132 THE CLIMAX 
 
 started involuntarily as he entered, for the setting 
 sun, striking the drugget with a powerful shaft of 
 red light, made a large rose in the pattern look 
 like blood. 
 
 "Not so bad as that, thank heaven," he mur 
 mured, as he placed his handkerchief over the face. 
 "A death like this is a tragedy under any circum 
 stances, but I am glad he didn't do it himself. I 
 have always been a little afraid of suicide with 
 him." 
 
 In his quiet way, Raymond had long studied 
 the grumpy musician, who had missed his road in 
 the world somehow, and so had run into this ob 
 scure corner, to hide himself, a disappointed, re 
 sentful man. If the man's disgust had been active, 
 instead of passive, he might have gone forth and 
 fought and fought his way to success. It was be 
 cause Von Hagen had always lacked healthy am 
 bition that Raymond had been apprehensive of his 
 falling into a despondency at some time or other 
 which would end in the way suggested by that 
 blood-red spot on the drugget. 
 
 Closing and locking both the front and back 
 doors carefully, John Raymond went up to Solo 
 mon Potter's house, and, finding him warm and 
 greasy, enjoying his supper in the society of his 
 spouse, apologized to Mrs. Potter for disturbing
 
 THE CLIMAX 133 
 
 him at such a time, but begged the favor of a few 
 words with him on business. The door leading to 
 the living-room being open, on account of the heat, 
 Raymond had stood in the shop and addressed the 
 worthy lady from a respectful distance. 
 
 "You're quite excusable, Doctor," she replied, 
 graciously. "Business must always come first, as 
 I often says to Solomon. Only five minutes ago 
 my very words was: 'Solomon/ I says, 'we never 
 know,' says I, 'when you may be called on, and 
 therefore,' I says, 'eat your supper while you have 
 time, because if anyone comes to see you,' I says, 
 'you'll quit eatin' right there. Times are hard,' says 
 I, 'and we can't afford to lose no chance to make an 
 honest dollar just for the sake of supper,' I says." 
 
 While Mrs. Potter delivered herself of this 
 harangue with her accustomed volubility, Solomon, 
 with a regretful backward glance at his plate 
 he having just arrived at the huckleberry-pie stage 
 of his repast went out to the shop and stood at 
 the front door, while his visitor told him, in a few 
 words, that Heinrich Von Hagen was dead, and 
 that the services of Mr. Potter, as undertaker, were 
 required. 
 
 "Gosh! Is that so?" ejaculated Solomon, ac 
 tually excited over the news a remarkable thing 
 for him, since he regarded death usually as simply
 
 134 THE CLIMAX 
 
 a slight boom in business. Then, raising his voice, 
 he called out to his wife: "Hannah, what do you 
 think? Doc Raymond says " 
 
 "That I'm going to try to get Mr. Potter a 
 regular boy to pump the organ this fall," inter 
 rupted John Raymond, quickly. "It's a shame to 
 make the sexton do it, Mrs. Potter." Adding, in 
 an undertone, to Solomon: "Don't tell anybody 
 about the death till to-morrow. There are particu 
 lar reasons." 
 
 "All right, Doc," whispered Solomon. "I 
 didn't know." 
 
 "I hope you will be able to get a regular boy, 
 Doctor," said Mrs. Potter. "I declare I get all 
 wore out tryin' to keep clean shirts on my husband 
 when he has to work at that plaguey organ. As I 
 says to him, says I : 'You are paid to be sexton,' 
 I says, 'not assistant organist. You ought to be 
 paid for it,' I says, 'if they make you do it all the 
 while,' I says, 'and you ought to get more than 
 Professor Hagen,' says I, 'because you work harder 
 than he does,' I says, 'and there couldn't be no 
 music without you,' I says. So I'm glad to hear 
 the music committee has took it up, Doctor Ray 
 mond, an' me an' my husband will give you a 
 vote of thanks if you do get him a boy to pump 
 that dratted organ reg'lar, an' "
 
 THE CLIMAX 135 
 
 Mrs. Potter broke off suddenly, as Solomon, 
 who had unobtrusively put on his coat and hat 
 which he kept in a closet in a corner of the shop, 
 with the embalming-fluid bottles went to the 
 front door and slipped out to the street. She looked 
 at her husband as if she could not believe her eyes. 
 Then she asked, in an awed tone of wonder and in 
 credulity : 
 
 "Surely you're not goin' out without eatin' 
 your huckleberry-pie, Solomon Potter, are you?" 
 
 "I must," he replied, hastily. "Doc Raymond 
 wants me to go at once." 
 
 "To see about the boy for the pump," explained 
 Raymond. 
 
 "For the land's sake! Well, who is the boy? 
 I know every boy in town, an' I can't think of one 
 who'd be likely to stick to the job reg'lar. It ain't 
 that Jimmy Swift, is it? T\^D one couldn't place no 
 dependence in him. 'Thout it's him, though, I 
 dunno who you could get, 'cept one of the Poler 
 boys, an' they ain't " 
 
 Mrs. Potter might have gone on speculating in 
 definitely had not John Raymond cut her short by 
 saying that the boy had not been selected yet, and 
 dragged Solomon out of the quizzing zone by main 
 strength. 
 
 "You understand, Mr. Potter," Raymond said
 
 T36 THE CLIMAX 
 
 to him, as they walked away. "Miss Von Hagen 
 is not in a condition to see anyone. Don't let it be 
 known about town what has happened until to 
 morrow afternoon. I suppose we can't keep it from 
 the public longer than that. Meanwhile, don't tell 
 anybody." 
 
 "If we can keep it secret till to-morrow we'll be 
 lucky. I'm awfully afraid my wife will corkscrew 
 it out of me somehow before I go to sleep to-night," 
 muttered Solomon Potter, dubiously.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "Yearaing for the large excitement that the coming 
 
 years would yield, 
 
 Eag'er-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his 
 father's field." 
 
 Fortunately for his plan to give Adelina a lit 
 tle time in which to recover from the shock, by 
 withholding the fact of her father's death from 
 the public until [the morrow, Doctor John Ray 
 mond, as assistant to Doctor Simmons, who held 
 the office of Coroner for the county, was empow 
 ered to act as Deputy-Coroner. Being a physician, 
 he could and did prepare a death certificate, which 
 he duly signed. By a little stretching of the letter 
 of the law, he had decided that an inquest was not 
 necessary. 
 
 Adelina remained with Carrie that night, while 
 John Raymond having seen that Mr. Potter, after 
 a trip to his shop for certain articles needed in his 
 grisly calling, had made "him" look presentable, 
 lying on what Solomon called a "cooling board" 
 sat down, witk a book, in the music-room, to 
 "watch." 
 
 137
 
 138 THE CLIMAX 
 
 It was a large funeral. Not often did Azalia 
 enjoy the excitement of burying so prominent a 
 fellow-citizen as Heinrich Von Hagen had been, 
 and it made the most of the present occasion. Solo 
 mon Potter, as "funeral director," was proud of it. 
 He had attended personally to every detail and, as 
 he said, afterward, "everything was just right, from 
 the corpse to the church bell." St. Jude's was 
 crowded when the Reverend Thomas Treadhouse 
 arose to begin the service. 
 
 The casket had been placed in front of the 
 pulpit, and close to it sat Adelina, a solitary black- 
 gowned figure which never moved. She was the 
 only mourner. Those who could see her face, 
 when the black veil was pushed back over her 
 hat, said that she did not shed a tear. Why 
 she did not Adelina herself could not have told. 
 Possibly she had exhausted her grief and horror in 
 that first outburst when she went up stairs with 
 Carrie Raymond. She would miss her father be 
 cause he was her father, and also because they t\vo 
 had been alone together for most of her life. But 
 there never had been much affection between them. 
 He was a morose sort of man, who felt that he had 
 been ill-treated by the world, and in brooding over 
 his own wrongs he had given little regard to the 
 girl growing up under his eyes. On the other hand,
 
 THE CLIMAX 139 
 
 Adelina believed that if he had not compelled her 
 mother to work so hard, and had been kinder to 
 her generally, she might still be alive. Sometimes, 
 in her secret heart, she had held her father the 
 murderer of her mother. 
 
 So now, as she sat in a front pew, where she 
 could see his dead face through the glass of the 
 casket, while the minister spoke of his virtues, and 
 especially of his usefulness to St. Jude's Church, 
 as its organist for so many years, she listened 
 calmly enough, only wondering, in a curious way, 
 whether he really had merited all this eulogy. 
 
 At the end of the service the people fell into 
 line and passed around the casket for a "last look," 
 and then some of them walked behind the hearse 
 to the cemetery at the edge of the town, where, 
 in due course, that which they had followed was 
 lowered into its grave, covered with earth, and left 
 to itself under the willows. 
 
 "Come, Adelina." 
 
 It was Carrie Raymond speaking, and she took 
 the girl's arm and led her away from the freshly- 
 turned mound to the carriage. 
 
 "What shall I do now?" murmured Adelina, as 
 she took her seat by the side of Carrie Raymond, 
 John and his father sitting opposite. 
 
 The young doctor overheard the words, and he
 
 I 4 o THE CLIMAX 
 
 noted that they were uttered, not as a helpless ex 
 pression of bereavement, but in a tone half of per 
 plexity and half of decision. What should she do? 
 If she did not know what she would do, John Ray 
 mond could have told her. 
 
 Adelina went straight back to her own 
 home after the funeral. She had arranged, by 
 Raymond's advice, for Harriet Wylie to sleep 
 in the house, so that she would not be alone. Har 
 riet also was to assist in those domestic duties 
 which cannot be neglected for long in any house 
 hold, so long as people have to live. Harriet was 
 a good girl, and Adelina found that she had plenty 
 of time to look about her and settle up what estate 
 her father had left. It was very little. He had 
 owned the house they lived in, and there was a 
 small sum of money in the Azalia bank which 
 would not much more than pay the funeral ex 
 penses. At her request, John Raymond said he 
 would put the house on the market. 
 
 "I could not live in it, even if I intended to 
 stay in Azalia," she explained. "Sell it for as much 
 as you can get, John, won't you?" 
 
 "Very well, Adelina." 
 
 He did not evince any astonishment that she 
 intended to leave Azalia, nor did he say a word to 
 dissuade her. She was a little disappointed that
 
 THE CLIMAX 141 
 
 he didn't. It looked as if he didn't care. While 
 she would have disregarded any arguments he 
 might have advanced to induce her to change her 
 mind, she wished he had asked her not to go away. 
 He hated the idea of her deserting Azalia, she 
 knew. Many times he had told her he hoped she 
 would always live there. He had even, since her 
 father's death, and for the third time, asked her to 
 become his wife, and she had declined. She was 
 not ready to be married yet, she had said. 
 
 John Raymond, on his side, was not sure that 
 he would be the lucky man even if she ever did 
 consent to go to the altar. He knew he loved her, 
 but how could he tell what w^ere her real senti 
 ments toward him? It was his opinion that she 
 did not know them herself. 
 
 There was no demand for house property in 
 Azalia just then, and the Von Hagen dwelling was 
 not sold, although Raymond worked hard to find 
 a purchaser. Meanwhile, Adelina was in communi 
 cation with friends in New York. She had sent 
 a copy of the Azalia Clarion, containing a notice 
 of her father's demise, to Luigi Golfanti, and 
 straightway had received a letter of sorrow and 
 condolence, with an earnest hope that she would 
 let him give her any assistance that might lie in' 
 his power. The letter warmed her heart. It was
 
 142 THE CLIMAX 
 
 as if she could hear Luigi's kindly voice in the 
 queer, cramped, foreign handwriting, and feel his 
 finger-tips pressing the outside of her elbows, as 
 he looked his sympathy into her eyes. He said, 
 in his letter, that Pietro sent his most respectful 
 consideration, and hoped to have the happiness of 
 seeing her again before long. 
 
 Adelina smiled when she came to this part of 
 the epistle. She could imagine Pietro pouring forth 
 burning sentences for his father to write, and Luigi 
 cutting them down to the comparatively bald mes 
 sage she was reading. Her smile soon died out, 
 however, as she began to meditate, holding the 
 folded letter between two fingers and thoughtfully 
 tapping the edge of it on the table. She sat thus 
 for nearly half an hour, but, when at last she was 
 disturbed by Harriet coming to ask her some ques 
 tion of domestic economy, she had arrived at a de 
 cision. After telling Harriet what she wanted to 
 know, Adelina got out her desk and wrote an im 
 portant letter to Luigi Golfanti. 
 
 It was three days before an answer came. 
 When she read it her face brightened, and a slight 
 tinge of pink stole into her pale cheeks. She went 
 through the letter again, sitting in her bedroom, 
 near the open window. Then she turned over sev 
 eral of the old opera scores, and, while she dropped
 
 THE CLIMAX 143 
 
 a tear or two upon them, gave utterance to a low 
 laugh of pleasure, which had in it, somehow, a note 
 of timidity. Just then she saw John Raymond com 
 ing up the garden-path. She .went down stairs 
 swiftly and met him in the music-room. 
 
 "I'm afraid it will be some time before we can 
 sell this house, Addie," he said. "I've been to 
 'Squire Morgan again to-day. He says he'll dis 
 pose of the property, some time or other, but he 
 doesn't say when. If you wanted to rent it, that 
 would be different. He could get you a tenant at 
 once." 
 
 Adelina clapped her hands in satisfaction, while 
 Raymond's brown cheek paled a little and his 
 mouth tightened. He suspected the reason for her 
 being pleased, perhaps. 
 
 "I want a tenant, John. I am going to leave 
 Azalia as soon as I can get ready." 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "To New York." 
 
 She tried to say it carelessly, but it was not 
 likely that such a tremendous resolve could fall 
 from her lips without a tremor. 
 
 "I don't understand," he said. "You have no 
 relatives there." 
 
 "Yes, I have." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon. I did not know."
 
 144 THE CLIMAX 
 
 He was as stiff as a poker, and Adelina found 
 it difficult to be at her ease. She tried, however. 
 
 "Yes, I have cousins there," she went on, turn 
 ing to the piano and looking at the sheet of music, 
 "Azalia A Fragment," which lay open upon it. 
 
 "Ladies?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "H'm !" 
 
 "It is my cousin, Luigi Golfanti, and his son, 
 Pietro. Signer Golfanti told me, when he was here 
 on that Saturday and Sunday, that my voice was 
 good, but that it needed a little more training to 
 make it perfect." 
 
 "And that he was the one person who could 
 give it that training, I presume," interrupted John 
 Raymond, bitterly. 
 
 She opened her eyes wide, as she turned 
 around from the piano and faced him. 
 
 "Why, how did you know?" she asked. "I 
 don't believe I ever mentioned it to you until now." 
 
 "You didn't," was the dry rejoinder. "But it 
 did not demand extraordinary perspicacity to en 
 able me to divine that a teacher of singing talking 
 about your voice would naturally desire you for 
 a pupil. I do not quite understand how you mean 
 to live in New York, however." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you. Signor Golfairti will meet
 
 THE CLIMAX 145 
 
 me at the railroad station on my arrival in New 
 York and take me to a respectable boarding-house, 
 where he will have engaged a room for me in ad 
 vance. I shall have enough money to last me for 
 six months, even without the rent of this house, 
 if I am careful. In that time I will take vocal les 
 sons of him, and at the end of it I shall be so much 
 improved that I may be able to :ing in concerts." 
 
 "You don't mean in opera, then?" 
 
 "I don't know," she replied, thoughtfully. "I 
 contemplate only concerts at present, and shall not 
 aspire even to them for half a year, at least." 
 
 "The music committee, represented by 'Squire 
 Morgan, have asked me to find out whether you 
 will play the organ in church next Sunday, for con 
 gregational singing. They have had no music for 
 two Sundays now, The quartette is disorganized, 
 and everything has gone wrong." 
 
 "I am sorry for that," and she said it as if she 
 meant it. "I will rehearse the organ music on Fri 
 day and play it on Sunday with pleasure. But I 
 can only do it this once, I am afraid." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I expect to be gone before the next Sunday," 
 she replied. 
 
 John Raymond's face became white all over. 
 
 "So soon as that?" he faltered. "I did not
 
 146 THE CLIMAX 
 
 think you would be going for a month or two if 
 you went at all." 
 
 "Why not? There is nothing to wait for. If 
 'Squire Morgan can get a good tenant for the 
 house, I suppose it ought to be rented. If not, it 
 must remain empty. I almost think I should pre 
 fer to leave it just as it is, with all the furniture 
 in it, until it is soli. We may be able to sell it at 
 any time, you know." 
 
 Raymond did not know what to make of it 
 all. He tried to gather his thoughts into a compre 
 hension of what it would mean to him if Azalia no 
 longer held Adelina if he should continue to live 
 there with no chance of seeing her over the divid 
 ing fence as he walked up and down the garden be 
 tween his house and the front gate, of hearing her 
 voice in St. Jude's choir, or of doing any of the lit 
 tle offices for her that had kept him busy at in 
 tervals, especially since her father's death. His 
 brain, in its present confused state, was not equal 
 to working it all out, and he gave up trying for 
 the time being. So he told her he would inform 
 the music committee, through 'Squire Morgan, 
 that she would play the organ on Sunday next, and 
 then he departed, more abruptly than she remem 
 bered him ever to have left her before. 
 
 True to her word, Adelina went to the church
 
 THE CLIMAX 147 
 
 on Friday evening Solomon Potter having cor 
 ralled a marble-playing boy in front of the hotel 
 and dragged him, protesting, to the penitential 
 cupboard, to pump and played over on the organ 
 all the hymns that were to be sung on Sunday. She 
 had played the organ before, but not for service. 
 The instrument was not a hard one, so far as the 
 physical labor of the organist was concerned. 
 There were no pedals, so that she had only her 
 fingers to watch, and, as the music was simple, she 
 ran through it without difficulty. There were 
 three hymns for the morning service and three for 
 evening, and that was all. 
 
 Adelina was alone in the church, save for Solo 
 mon Potter and the grumbling boy in the pumping 
 closet, until she began the last hymn. Then, some 
 what to her annoyance, Susan Treadhouse appeared 
 in the choir gallery, from the side door. 
 
 "I hear that you are leaving us, Adelina?" she 
 said, screaming into the girl's ear, to make herself 
 heard above the organ. 
 
 Although she had played as loudly as she could, 
 Adelina could not pretend that she had not heard 
 the query, for Susan Treadhouse's voice had been 
 injected into her ear so intimately that the pious 
 lady's breath tickled her. 
 
 "Yes. I am going to New York next week."
 
 I 4 8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "So I heard, but I couldn't believe it," went on 
 Susan, very red in the face from the exertion of 
 making Adelina hear. "Say, Addie, would you 
 mind stopping for a moment? I feel as if some 
 thing were cracking in my cheekbones when I 
 shout so hard." 
 
 Adelina finished the hymn at that moment, so 
 she was able to comply with the request without 
 interfering with the music. 
 
 "The report is that you are going to study 
 vocalism and give lessons. Is that so?" continued 
 Susan. 
 
 Mrs. Treadhouse had seated herself on one end 
 of the organ-bench, pushing Adelina along, and 
 was primed for a series of questions. She wanted 
 to know all about the girl's plans, and nothing in 
 the nature of delicacy would stand in the way of 
 her finding them out. Susan believed that the way 
 to get information was to ask for it, eking out 
 whatever she learned, when it was not complete, by 
 jumping to conclusions. 
 
 "I shall give lessons in music, if I can get pu 
 pils, studying at the same time," was Adelina's reply. 
 
 "But why don't you stay here and marry Doc 
 tor Raymond? He'd have you, I'm sure. Then 
 you'd live quiet and respectable, and be well 
 thought of. Whereas, if you go to New York, you
 
 THE CLIMAX 149 
 
 don't know what will become of you. I've heard 
 dreadful tales about girls who have gone there, and 
 you know" here Susan Treadhouse dropped her 
 voice confidentially "you are more likely to be 
 led into temptation than some others." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Adelina put this monosyllabic query coldly, 
 but the blood was surging wildly through her veins, 
 and she knew what the reply would be before Mrs. 
 Treadhouse, pursing up her lips and raising her 
 eyebrows, purred insinuatingly: 
 
 "Your mother was an actress, you know." 
 
 Instantly the girl's eyes were ablaze, but the 
 smug Susan did not notice them, any more than 
 she realized how nearly Adelina was to breaking 
 through all conventionalities, and, seizing the min 
 ister's wife by her skinny throat, shaking her till 
 her false teeth fell out. It was a narrow escape for 
 Mrs. Treadhouse, but the girl restrained herself, as 
 she asked, in the same cold tone that she had used 
 before : 
 
 "What has that to do with my being led into 
 temptation in New York?" 
 
 Susan wriggled on the bench and held up one 
 hand deprecatingly. She was about to say some 
 thing which might have resulted in her being half- 
 throttled, after all, but, fortunately, she happened
 
 150 THE CLIMAX 
 
 to glance at Adelina's face. What she saw there 
 warned her, and she saved herself by saying, in a 
 conciliatory way: 
 
 "Nothing, Addie, of course. What I came in 
 for, when I heard the organ, was to tell you how 
 sorry we all are that you are going. I hope you 
 will like living in a large city." 
 
 "I think I shall," replied Adelina, and walked 
 out of the gallery and church, leaving Susan Tread- 
 howse still perched uncomfortably on the organ 
 bench. 
 
 The days passed swiftly, and it seemed to John 
 Raymond that the unhappy morning when he 
 waited at his gate, looking up the garden at Ade 
 lina saying good-bye to Carrie and his father, had 
 come before he had had time fairly to consider the 
 astounding fact that she was going away out of her 
 old life forever. 
 
 "You'll write to us, won't you, dear?" appealed 
 Carrie, wiping a tear from her nose for Miss 
 Raymond, if she was a little frosty in general, was 
 fond of Adelina in her wintry way. 
 
 "Of course I will. I shall tell you everything 
 I am doing. But don't forget that I want to know 
 when a certain event is to take place. Have you 
 named the day yet?" 
 
 Adelina laughed and Carrie blushed. Miss
 
 THE CLIMAX 151 
 
 Raymond was engaged to a rising young lawyer 
 of Chicago, who didn't object to frost, but only a 
 very few persons in Azalia were aware of the ten 
 der romance. 
 
 "Not yet," replied Carrie. "You shall know 
 when it is." 
 
 She kissed Adelina again, and Mr. Raymond, 
 Senior, shaking her hand solemnly, wished her hap 
 piness, success and deliverance from all evil. Then, 
 as John, carrying her handbag, looked at his watch 
 nervously, she cast one more backward glance at 
 the garden and home where she had spent many 
 not unhappy hours, and walked away with him to 
 the "depot." 
 
 An hour afterward, while Adelina looked 
 thoughtfully out of the window of a musty car of 
 the local train, hastening to connect with the main 
 line for New York, John Raymond slipped into the 
 garden which had been hers and plucked a purple 
 pansy, which he fastened on the left lapel of his 
 coat, over his heart.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "My song I will not sell for gold; 
 Nor fame nor honor'll buy it." 
 
 Adelina, sitting on the edge of a narrow bed 
 in a small back room on the fourth floor of a 
 boarding-house in Thirty-eighth street, New York, 
 stared disconsolately at the wall opposite, and si 
 lently wept. 
 
 There was some excuse for her depression even 
 in the pattern of the wall-paper, aside from every 
 thing else. It was one of those weird designs, 
 peculiar to boarding-house sleeping-chambers, in 
 which garlands of impossible green roses and red 
 sunflowers crawl lazily in and out of never-ending 
 spirals, and awful half-human faces, contorted in 
 sardonic mirth, spring suddenly out of the flowers 
 and seem to gibber at you. 
 
 Mrs. Bates, the landlady, had just gone out of 
 the room. She was a leathery woman, who had 
 always been a lady, she said, accustomed to the 
 best of everything. But her husband had "lost his 
 fortune in Wall street," and she had been left a 
 
 152
 
 THE CLIMAX 153 
 
 widow, to fight the world alone. Incidentally, she 
 gave the impression of being a fairly good rough- 
 and-tumble fighter, who would hold out for her 
 rights to the tap of the bell. She had told Adelina 
 that the gentleman who had engaged the room for 
 her, Signer Golfanti, with his son, used to board 
 with her, and she knew them well. Otherwise, she 
 would have wanted references from Miss Von 
 Hagen. 
 
 "You has to be particular in New York, my 
 dear, especially with ladies as you don't know. 
 Signer Golfanti is a highly-respectable gentleman, 
 and he told me all about you that your father was 
 dead, and you had come to New York to study 
 voice culture. I told him that, under the circum 
 stances, I should be willing to accommodate you, 
 though my house is always full, and I only had 
 this one hall room." 
 
 "This will do very nicely, Mrs. " 
 
 "Bates," supplied the landlady, quickly. "My 
 husband's name was Clayton Bates, and I some 
 times get called Mrs. Clayton by them as knowed 
 him before he died. But 'Airs. Bates' is what I 
 ought to be called when I'm addressed correckly. I 
 always get my rent in advance, but Signer Golfanti 
 paid me for the first week. He said you'd pay him 
 afterward."
 
 154 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "It was very kind of him, indeed," said Ade- 
 lina, who had already opened her purse. "I didn't 
 know he'd done that." 
 
 "Yes, he said you wasn't used to New York 
 business ways, and might not think of it, and he 
 didn't want me to have to ask for it, because, hav 
 ing just buried your father, your feelings was eas 
 ily hurt. However, as I was saying, the rent is six 
 dollars a week, and a dollar a week for the use of 
 the py-anner in the parlor. My py-anner is a Brin- 
 dleheimer one of the best makers, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Bates might .have talked for an hour and 
 driven Adelina to distraction, but she was called 
 down stairs as soon as she had contrived to men 
 tion the terms of rental, and the girl was left to 
 contemplate the wall-paper and wonder whether 
 she ever would get used to sleeping in this bare lit 
 tle room, which, besides the bed, had just space 
 enough for her trunk and a rickety table, on which 
 stood a hideous white pitcher and wash-bowl. 
 
 Adelina looked out of the window, and her heart 
 sank lower. The denizens of Thirty-eighth street. 
 as well as of Thirty-ninth street, the backs of whose 
 houses faced her, seemed to do their washing all 
 the week, for many of the pulley-lines that criss 
 crossed at varying heights over the arid yards and 
 ancient wooden fences were full of flapping under-
 
 THE CLIMAX 155 
 
 garments, with sheets and towels here and there, 
 and whole regiments of restless black stockings. 
 Squads of beer-bottles, standing up in boxes, with 
 tin boilers, iron kettles and an occasional geranium 
 in a flower-pot, encumbered the rusty fire-escapes; 
 bedclothes bulged out of many windows, and there 
 was a general air of desolation and shiftlessness 
 which was all horribly strange to this country girl. 
 She had been quietly weeping, almost without 
 knowing it. Thoughts that came to her mind now 
 sent the tears in still greater volume down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 She was contrasting this wilderness of brick- 
 and-mortar, with its slimy gutters, close atmos 
 phere and uncouth noises (for a man and woman 
 were quarreling profanely, and, in a high key some 
 where within her hearing, a parrot squawked at an 
 open casement, and boys played boisterously with 
 a yelping terrier in the yard below), with the peace 
 ful beauty of her garden in Azalia, whence the scent 
 of flowers was wafted into her window, and the 
 only sounds to be heard were pleasant. 
 
 But she did not sit long gazing, with tear-wet 
 cheeks, out of window or at the dreadful wall 
 paper. It was a bright morning outside, after all, 
 and she was in New York, where she had wanted 
 to be. So her spirits soon rose, as she opened her
 
 156 THE CLIMAX 
 
 trunk for a change of raiment, even though she 
 was rather tired, for she had been travelling all 
 night. 
 
 It had been her first experience in a sleeping- 
 car, and she had had only fitful dozes, waking up 
 often, with a convulsive clutch at nothing, as the 
 train swung around a curve and rolled her about 
 in her berth. She had been glad when the coming 
 of daylight gave her an excuse to get up and make 
 a dive for the dressing-room, innocently unaware 
 of the wrathful disappointment of the elderly 
 woman across the aisle, an experienced old trav 
 eller, who had intended to get there first and ap 
 propriate all the space in front of the most conveni 
 ent mirror. 
 
 "I must write to Carrie," she told herself, 
 when she had finished dressing. "I promised to let 
 her know that I had arrived safely. I suppose I 
 ought to send a letter to John, too. But Well, I 
 can mention him to Carrie. Let him write first. I 
 have nothing to tell him about New York yet, when 
 I haven't even been out of this room since I came 
 into it. But a whole lot can have happened in 
 Azalia since I left." 
 
 She felt as if she had been away a long time, 
 and yet it was less than twenty-four hours before 
 that she had been talking to John Raymond in the
 
 THE CLIMAX 157 
 
 music-room of her old home, telling him that the 
 piano and furniture might as well remain there un 
 til they found a customer for the house. She could 
 not bring herself to sell anything, and this plan 
 would save the expense of moving and storage. 
 Perhaps some day she might want to take all the 
 things to New York. She had decided not to rent 
 the house, even if a tenant could be obtained 
 which seemed harder to do than 'Squire Morgan 
 had anticipated. 
 
 John Raymond had promised to look after the 
 house, and to have a fire in the base-burner in the 
 hall on damp days and when very cold weather 
 came, so that the piano should not suffer. She had 
 been grateful to him for this, and still more that 
 he did not bring up the subject she most dreaded 
 between them her stage ambitions. She had 
 brought all her music with her, including her 
 mother's old opera scores and Pietro's "Fragment." 
 She took them out of her trunk now and piled 
 them up on the floor. There was nowhere else to 
 put them in that cubby-hole of a bedroom. Then 
 she sat on the bed again, her writing-case on her 
 knee, and wrote her letter to Carrie. 
 
 "Tell John," she wrote at the end, "that I have 
 a piano w r here I am living, and that I expect to be 
 very comfortable."
 
 158 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "That isn't much to say to him," she mur 
 mured, as she sealed up the letter. "But he'll 
 know." 
 
 John Raymond did know, and the knowledge 
 made him thoughtful all the day on which the let 
 ter arrived and for many days afterward. She had 
 begun her "career," and whether he were to be 
 part of it or not would, he feared, depend on fac 
 tors far beyond his control. As he thought, a pur 
 pose long in his mind slowly became a resolve. 
 
 "If I were there, not here, I could watch over 
 her," were the words into which he put that re 
 solve. 
 
 Adelina had money enough to live on frugally 
 for several months. She knew that she must be 
 very economical, but she began to feel hungry, and 
 she had no idea of starving herself. She must find 
 some modest restaurant and have dinner. She had 
 promised to go in the afternoon to the home of 
 Luigi Golfanti and his son, which Luigi had told 
 her was not very far from Union Square, stay for 
 supper, and have some music in the evening. She 
 would take her first vocal lesson from Luigi the 
 next day. It had been arranged, before she left 
 Azalia, that she was to be his pupil, studying the 
 method that had made her mother an operatic star. 
 
 It was with a sort of terrified delight that she
 
 THE CLIMAX 159 
 
 found herself alone, for the first time, in the streets 
 of a great city. Luigi Golfanti had been with her 
 when she was out before. He had met her at the 
 railroad station and taken her in a cab, trunk and 
 all, to Mrs. Bates's boarding-house. She had looked 
 out of the cab window and enjoyed the novelty of 
 her situation, but Luigi had talked continuously, 
 and she had not been able to give undivided atten 
 tion to her rapidly-changing surroundings. Now 
 that she was by herself, however, she could take 
 her time, and stop now and then, when any particu 
 lar thing attracted her. 
 
 Once in Broadway, she walked slowly down 
 the world-famous thoroughfare, passing a theatre 
 or two on the way, and after paying her devoirs 
 to each of the brilliant show-windows of a great 
 department store, and permitting herself to be 
 dazzled by the glittering gems and curiously-fash 
 ioned gold and silver ornaments displayed by a 
 jeweler next door, she saw around the corner a 
 restaurant with great plate-glass windows, behind 
 which a man in a white linen cap and apron was 
 making griddle-cakes with graceful nonchalance. 
 Here she had luncheon or dinner, as they would 
 call it in Azalia in the midst of a babble of voices 
 and crashing of thick crockery that amused her, 
 even if it did threaten her with a headache.
 
 160 THE CLIMAX 
 
 After her meal, she again discovered Broad 
 way, and entered an open street-car traveling to 
 her right, in accordance with Luigi's careful in 
 structions. She asked the conductor to tell her 
 when she should reach Seventeenth street. As she 
 rode along she wondered why she did not feel more 
 lonely. She was six hundred odd miles from Aza- 
 lia, and in a strange city by herself. In the nature 
 of things she ought to have been nearly frightened 
 to death. Why wasn't she? Then she adjusted the 
 incongruity by remembering that Luigi Golfanti, 
 who had known her mother so well, had been with 
 her that morning, and that she was going to see 
 him now. Why, New York would soon be more 
 like home to her than Azalia had been, especially 
 after her father's death. She was glad she was 
 going to see Luigi. But she did not think of Pietro. 
 
 The conductor pulled the bell and roared 
 "S'enteent' street ! H'yare, lady !" Then he worked 
 himself along the foot-board, hand over hand, and, 
 with one hand on the bell-rope, saw that she 
 alighted safely. By the time she had reached the 
 sidewalk the car was speeding away, and he had 
 resumed a snarling argument with two peddlers 
 who had slipped upon the back platform, each with 
 a large basket, when the conductor was not look 
 ing, and which controversy had begun with his
 
 THE CLIMAX 161 
 
 savage sarcasm, "Hey! D'youse guys take this fer 
 a freight-car or 'xpress-wagon ?" 
 
 Plow the dispute ended Adelina did not hear 
 or see, and she was sorry, because she had heard 
 the opening verbal gun, and felt that it promised 
 an exciting denouement. However, she supposed the 
 squabble was an ordinary feature of metropolitan 
 life, and no doubt she would come across another 
 incident of the same kind before long. 
 
 Luigi Golfanti had given her explicit direc 
 tions for rinding his home, but it was nearly half an 
 hour after alighting from the car that she found 
 herself in a mean sort of street, which seemed to 
 have run to seed, standing on the doorstep of an 
 old-fashioned brick house, with a delicatessen store 
 in the basement. She pushed an electric button on 
 the door-post, above a square of black japanned 
 tin, on which was the announcement: 
 
 GOLFANTI 
 (Operatic Method) 
 
 And Piano. 
 Teacher of Singing 
 
 Her finger had hardly left the button when she 
 heard a tremendous clumping on the uncarpeted 
 stairs, and then, as the door was flung open, Luigi 
 Golfanti took her by the two elbows. She was
 
 162 THE CLIMAX, 
 
 afraid he was going to kiss her on the cheek. But 
 he didn't. Five little girls, going home from 
 school, had stopped to inspect Adelina, whom they 
 knew to be a stranger in that neighborhood, and 
 certainly they would have told their mothers, who 
 in turn would have been sure to spread the scanda 
 lous news, had the "old Eye-talian singin' teacher" 
 kissed her in public. 
 
 "Come in, Adelina. Come up to the studio. 
 Pietro has a pupil. Si. He teach the piano. I do 
 the vocal. It is the more important. Eh? You 
 understand. This way. The stairs are little dark. 
 But that no matter. I hold your hand. Come. I 
 lead you. So!" 
 
 Chattering all the way up stairs while Pie- 
 tro's pupil could be heard somewhere stumbling 
 over five-finger exercises Luigi led Adelina to the 
 floor above and into a large room, where an open 
 grand piano suggested the professional character of 
 the occupants. An oil-stove on a small table, behind 
 a portiere, and an open cupboard, in which could 
 be seen crockery and half a loaf of bread, were a 
 reminder that Luigi and Pietro kept bachelors' hall 
 together. There were crumbs on the once white 
 cloth which covered another, and larger, table, near 
 the old-fashioned open fireplace, and Adelina felt 
 that touch of pity which is engendered in any.
 
 THE CLIMAX 163 
 
 womanly bosom by the slovenly housekeeping of 
 a strictly masculine manage. 
 
 She wouldn't have let him see it for the world. 
 
 "Oh, Signor Golfanti ! Isn't this lovely?" ex 
 claimed the girl, as she seated herself on the piano- 
 stool, with her face to the room, and looked 
 around. 
 
 "You like it?" asked Luigi, dubiously. 
 
 "Very much. It is so cozy, so original, so dif 
 ferent from other homes !" 
 
 "H'm! Yes. It is different. I say to Pietro 
 we have a way of our own that is not like anyone 
 else. But he not always get the meals we like. 
 The delicatessen it never have macaroni only pigs' 
 knuckles, sauer-kraut, pickles and beans. We have 
 beans for dinner five times last week. Then I make 
 Pietro buy a steak, and he cook it." 
 
 "Was it nice?" 
 
 Luigi looked at a door with the word "Studio" 
 painted on it, and on the other side of which Pietro 
 was engaged with his pupil. Then he answered, 
 softly : 
 
 "Pietro good boy, but he not know how to 
 grill a steak. That steak he black when cooked, 
 and he taste like lump of coal. I not say anything. 
 It would make Pietro feel bad. But the next day 
 we go back to the beans."
 
 164 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "You have to depend on the delicatessen gen 
 erally, then? That is too bad, Signor Golfanti." 
 
 He shook his head at her with a smile of re 
 buke. 
 
 "Not so bad as you call me 'Signer Golfanti,' " 
 he said. "I wish you call me 'Luigi.' " 
 
 Adelina raised a protesting hand, and Luigi 
 went on : 
 
 "I see. You think it would not do, because I 
 older as you. I older than your mother. I have it. 
 We are cousins, but you not call me 'cousin.' Say 
 'Uncle Uncle Luigi.' Eh?" 
 
 He was so much in earnest that Adelina knew 
 it must be so. She got up from the piano-stool and 
 took his hand: "Very well, Uncle Luigi. I will, 
 always." 
 
 He laughed aloud in his light-hearted way, and 
 just then Pietro entered from the studio. The five- 
 finger exercises had ceased several moments be 
 fore, indicating that the lesson was over. He came 
 forward quickly to greet her, a slight bashfulness 
 in his manner, but pleasure sparkling in his dark 
 eyes. She let go of Luigi's hand and took Pietro's 
 with a cordiality which made the young man tin 
 gle nil over. 
 
 "Pietro, I am very pleased to see you, and to be 
 able to thank you by word of mouth for that piece
 
 THE CLIMAX 165 
 
 of music, 'Azalia A Fragment.' It is beautiful. 
 I hope it is more than a fragment now." 
 
 Pietro blushed, but could not find words to 
 reply before his father broke in : 
 
 "He not finish it yet. That Pietro he seem not 
 to know how to get his music into the notes. He 
 have it in his head, all buzzing and flying about" 
 Luigi waved his hands about, the fingers outspread 
 "like the butterflies. But when he come to write 
 it, whoof! they fly away, and he have nothing to 
 put on paper." 
 
 "But I'll get it, father!" declared the young 
 man, eagerly. "I'll get it, Adelina. It is here." 
 
 He touched his forehead and then his heart, 
 with a quick and graceful gesture only possible to 
 an Italian. 
 
 "Yes, it is there. That what I say, Pietro," 
 laughed Luigi. "But while it stay there, what good 
 is it to anybody else?" 
 
 "I'll find it, now that you have come, Adelina," 
 said Pietro to her, in a low tone. "It will be yours, 
 too, and I shall call it 'The Song of a Soul.' "
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 "I watch thy grace; and in its place 
 My heart a charmed slumber keeps, 
 While I muse upon thy face." 
 
 Pietro Golfanti might have stood statue-like 
 and gazing into Adelina's eyes for an hour if his 
 father had not intervened. In his brisk way, Luigi 
 called his son to account for not clearing the cloth 
 off the table and making the apartment presentable, 
 while he himself pulled the portiere forward, to 
 hide as much as possible of the chaos of oil-stove, 
 crockery and loaf heretofore so shamelessly re 
 vealed. 
 
 "This is the first time Adelina come, and you 
 let her see us in this miserable condition. I 
 ashamed of you, Pietro." 
 
 "Nonsense, Uncle Luigi," interposed Adelina. 
 "The place is charming. Everything is so 'cute.' " 
 
 "Si. The rumpled tablecloth, the spilled salt, 
 the dirty dishes they all 'cute.' But it would be 
 more 'cute' if Pietro get to work and help me." 
 
 "I will, father. I didn't think for the moment," 
 protested Pietro. 
 
 166
 
 THE CLIMAX 167 
 
 "No, you not think about anything. What you 
 fussing with young Anton Rubinstein about? He 
 your pupil, and he pay fifty cents a lesson. You 
 ought not to fight with your bread and butter. I 
 right, eh, Adelina?" 
 
 "Well, Uncle Luigi " 
 
 "That right anyhow," interrupted Luigi, with 
 his sunny smile. "You call me 'Uncle Luigi.' 
 Buono! I like that. You quite right." 
 
 "It comes very easy for me to say it," she an 
 swered. "No uncle could be kinder than you." 
 
 "Mind you never call me anything else," he 
 admonished her. Then, turning to Pietro, he re 
 peated his query as to the cause of the dispute in 
 the studio. 
 
 "The cause of it is that that idiot boy, Anton 
 Rubinstein, will never play the piano," growled 
 Pietro. 
 
 "It is for you to teach him, Pietro," Luigi re 
 minded his son. 
 
 "How can I teach a boy like that a thick pud- 
 denhead, with a bunch of wooden thumbs? Anton 
 Rubinstein! How, in heaven's name, did such a 
 dumb head and such awkward hands ever get a 
 name like that?" 
 
 "Is he so bad?" asked Adelina, sympathetically.
 
 168 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Bad?" echoed Pietro, clenching his fists as he 
 strode up and down. 
 
 "Pietro!" called out Luigi, warning his son 
 against a display of ill-temper. 
 
 "I don't care," came with a snap from Pietro. 
 Then, stopping in his angry pacing, he swung 
 around to Adelina, and said, with forced calmness: 
 "Let me give you an example of that boy's stupid 
 ity. For weeks I have been laboring to knock into 
 his timber head the names and positions of the 
 notes on the piano." 
 
 "You have no patience, Pietro," interjected his 
 father. 
 
 "This afternoon," continued Pietro, disregard 
 ing the remark, "after he had driven me nearly 
 frantic with his imbecility, I believed I really had 
 got something into him. So I pointed to middle 
 'C' on the instrument, like this." Pietro placed a 
 finger on the "C" on the grand piano, and Adelina 
 turned on the stool for an instant to look. "I said 
 to him, 'What is this?' What do you suppose was 
 nhe answer of Anton Rubinstein?" 
 
 Pietro's disgusted emphasis on this name made 
 Adelina smile, in spite of her compassion for the 
 young man in his distress. 
 
 "What did he say?" she asked. 
 
 "He took a long time to consider, while I kept
 
 THE CLIMAX 169 
 
 my finger on the *C,' and at last, in his slow way, 
 he bleated : 'It's the py-ano.' " 
 
 Pietro resumed his march, shaking his fists at 
 the empty air, as he repeated, in an agonized voice, 
 "The py-ano! The py-ano!" 
 
 Luigi regarded his son for a moment in silence. 
 Then, winking slyly at Adelina, he said, argumen- 
 tatively: "Well, it was the piano, wasn't it? Did 
 you expect him to say it was a yellow clarinet?" 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is, father," declared Pie 
 tro, not heeding the banter. "That boy will come 
 here one day too often, and they'll hang me for it." 
 
 "Pietro," said his father, "how often I remind 
 you that the dumb pupils pay just as much as the 
 clever ones sometimes more, if you lie to them 
 enough. Adelina, everyone in this profession 
 knows that a music teacher builds up his reputa 
 tion through his clever pupils, but he makes his 
 living from the others." 
 
 Adelina laughed heartily at this outspoken ad 
 mission, saying: "That was something my father 
 never could understand. I remember he broke a 
 violin on the head of one of his pupils who either 
 could not. or would not, play his exercise correctly. 
 If Anton Rubinstein isn't careful, perhaps Pietro 
 will hit him over the head with the piano." 
 
 This sally made Pietro laugh, notwithstanding
 
 ,170 THE CLIMAX 
 
 his anger, and soon they forgot the unlucky Anton 
 in talking about Adelina's plans and prospects. 
 
 "When shall I begin my lessons with you, Un 
 cle?" she asked. 
 
 "Now, if you are not too tired," answered 
 Luigi, as Adelina turned to the piano and rippled 
 off a chromatic scale with an evenness and preci 
 sion that made Pietro gaze admiringly at the white 
 fingers as they glided up and down the keyboard. 
 
 She looked laughingly at Luigi and asked him 
 if that sounded as if she were tired. He shook his 
 head. 
 
 "No, carissima not your fingers. They run 
 about the piano like little white mice. But the 
 voice, he tire when the fingers are not." 
 
 "I don't think my voice is tired, Uncle Luigi." 
 
 "So? Well, we try. Sing this exercise." 
 
 He placed before her an open instruction book 
 and pointed to the top of a page. 
 
 "That's not difficult, Uncle Luigi." 
 
 "No, it is not difficult. That's why I give it 
 to you, for the first lesson. We find plenty more 
 in the book which will be harder, by-and-bye. So! 
 Begin !" 
 
 Pietro stood behind her, his gaze fixed admir 
 ingly on her golden-brown hair, while Luigi, draw 
 ing a chair to her side, took out a pencil and pre-
 
 THE CLIMAX 171 
 
 pared to beat time with it on the end of the key 
 board. He was the instructor now, and Adelina 
 had become his pupil and nothing more. 
 
 She began to exercise, a series of rapid trip 
 lets in the middle register, and had sung three or 
 four bars, when he brought down his pencil with 
 a sharp rap, accompanied by a peremptory "Stop !" 
 
 Adelina obeyed and looked at him in surprise. 
 He was shaking his head violently and frowning. 
 
 "No, no. That will not do. It will not do. I- 
 tell it to my pupils so often, get the wind back of 
 the tone and keep it there. Do not let the wind 
 come out all around the sounds. The vowel 'Ah.' 
 Listen." 
 
 He sounded a long broad "A." 
 
 "So !" he ejaculated. "Do it like that." 
 
 She sang the "A," and to an ordinary listener 
 it would have seemed identical with his own, allow 
 ing for the difference in their voices. But it did 
 not suit the exacting instructor, for he almost 
 shouted, while he struck a nervous tattoo with the 
 pencil: 
 
 "No, no ! Do not push it out. Let it float. Do 
 not punch it out. Let the wind do it, but do not 
 let the tone know the wind he does do it. Now, 
 the vowel 'Ah.' Now!" 
 
 Again Adelina tried to please him, but again
 
 j;2 THE CLIMAX 
 
 she failed. Only that she knew how conscien 
 tiously he was working with her, and because she 
 was determined to conquer the obstacle, whatever 
 it was, that stood in the way of her attaining his 
 standard of perfection, she would have been in 
 clined to give up trying. Never had she been un 
 der so sternly critical a teacher. But as she knew 
 in her heart never had she found one so anxious 
 to educate her into a great singer. 
 
 Luigi was not thinking of anything but getting 
 from Adelina the exact tone he wanted. With a 
 perfectly serious face, he explained his meaning in 
 parable : 
 
 "The dog, he bark he punch out the tone. 
 The sheep, he bleat squeeze the tone through the 
 nose. The bull, he bellow blow it out in a lump. 
 The bird ah, the bird ! he just let it come. He 
 sing pianissimo, piano, crescendo, forte, fortissimo, 
 all the same as he fly. Now, try." 
 
 He had imitated comically the sounds made by 
 the dog, the sheep and the bull, although quite evi 
 dently nothing was further from his intention than 
 making a jest of the performance. When he came 
 to the bird he raised his hands, higher and higher, 
 as the imaginary melody he described increased in 
 volume, while his face showed that his thoughts 
 were up with the bird itself over the tree-tops.
 
 THE CLIMAX 173 
 
 "Ah !" sang Adelina. 
 
 "Buono!" 
 
 "Ah !" 
 
 "Better! Now, the exercise," touching the 
 book with the end of his pencil. 
 
 She sang the first two lines, while Luigi kept 
 time with his pencil in the air. Finally, with the 
 quick double stroke with which a conductor stops 
 his orchestra, he told her that would do. 
 
 "We not wear you out the first time, Adelina," 
 he added, dropping the austerity of the teacher, 
 to become again the affectionate and laughing Un 
 cle Luigi. 
 
 "My voice is not fatigued, uncle," she pro 
 tested. "I can sing for hours. You heard me in 
 the choir in Azalia at two services. They did not 
 spare my voice there." 
 
 "That was different. You not singing in the 
 choir now. Perhaps you never will. It is more 
 likely you be in grand opera house when you have 
 been with me a year. That is why I careful. You 
 understand?" 
 
 "Yes, uncle." 
 
 Then we begin to see about supper, I and Pie- 
 tro. We have been long time over the lesson 
 much longer than you think. Time he fly when we 
 do what we like, eh? Pietro, what is for supper?"
 
 174 THE CLIMAX 
 
 Pietro looked rather miserable at the ques 
 tion, and did not immediately answer. Then he 
 mumbled something about "delicatessen." 
 
 "What?" roared Luigi. "Beans?" 
 
 "No. There are other things in the store be 
 sides beans," retorted his son, angrily. 
 
 "Nothing that is any better. But we must 
 have something that Adelina can eat. What shall 
 we do?" 
 
 "Don't distress yourself, Uncle Luigi," begged 
 Adelina. "I can eat anything. You must have 
 seen that when you were in Azalia. Besides, you 
 know something about my appetite when I was a 
 little girl." 
 
 "We must have steak, or chops, or something 
 like that," he said. 
 
 Adelina rubbed her hands together gleefully. 
 
 "And I'll cook them. You have the dearest 
 little oil-stove over there. It will be great fun to 
 me. Shall I go out and buy the meat?" 
 
 "No. You lose yourself. I go. Pietro, you 
 get the table ready. What meat I get, Adelina? 
 Which you rather have?" 
 
 "Anything, Uncle. But chops make so much 
 smoke and smell. Suppose you bring a steak." 
 
 "Buono ! I wish we could have some spaghetti, 
 too. Never mind. I bring the steak."
 
 THE CLIMAX 175 
 
 He was outside the room ere he had ceased to 
 talk, and, as the door closed, they could hear him 
 still saying something about the steak on his way 
 down stairs. 
 
 Adelina ran over to the oil-stove, with an air 
 of taking command that clinched another rivet in 
 the fascination she had girded about poor Pietro. 
 She asked for a rag, so that she could wipe the 
 dust and grease from the oil-stove. That was the 
 first thing to be done, she said. 
 
 "I have thought of you a great deal since I 
 saw you in Azalia," said Pietro, as he tore a clean 
 pocket-handkerchief in two, and gave her half of it 
 for a duster. "You, know, I had heard my father 
 say so much about you, that, although I had never 
 seen much of you as a child, I felt as if we weren't 
 strangers." 
 
 "That was my feeling, Pietro," she replied, 
 kindly enough, but without any of the sentiment 
 that made the young man's voice quaver. "My, 
 father had mentioned your father many times. Get 
 me the salt. Have you any butter? We shall need 
 some. Where's the frying-pan?" 
 
 Pietro came to her with a bag of salt in one 
 hand, and a triangular smeary mass of butter, still 
 in the thin wooden dish in which it had come from 
 the store, in the other. She took the things smil-
 
 176 THE CLIMAX 
 
 ingly, but with an inward shiver as she looked at 
 the disreputable butter. 
 
 "Do you know, Adelina, when I am writing 
 music " 
 
 "Now the frying-pan, Pietro. Oh, my! It is 
 all full of hard grease. We must warm it over the 
 fire and wipe it out. Where are the matches?" 
 
 "Here they are. Yes, when I am trying to 
 put my fancies into a harmony that will express " 
 
 "This frying-pan. What was it used for last? 
 Not fish, was it?" 
 
 "No. Beans, I think. But, Adelina, won't you 
 let me tell you what a wonderful influence for good 
 that visit to Azalia had on me?" 
 
 "A change is beneficial to anyone. I am glad 
 Azalia agreed with you." 
 
 She was busily wiping out the frying-pan 
 first with paper and then with the other half of the 
 handkerchief. Pietro thought her more attractive 
 than ever. Her face w r as flushed with the excite 
 ment of her novel situation, as cook for two bache 
 lors, and she was so active, and her hands remained 
 sc white, in spite of the frying-pan, that poor Pie 
 tro was in a piteous state of infatuation, indeed. 
 
 But how he did wish she would be serious with 
 him ! He had thought and dreamed of her, day and 
 night, ever since that Sunday in Azalia, when he
 
 THE CLIMAX 177 
 
 had hung upon her voice as she sung at St. Jude's. 
 When he knew she was coming to New York 
 he had fully made up his mind to declare himself 
 and force her to give him some hope in return. 
 Now she was here, and, do what he would, he found 
 himself of less importance in her eyes than a greasy 
 frying-pan ! It was that country doctor, of course. 
 He was in love with her, Pietro knew, and most 
 likely they were engaged to be married. That was 
 why she had no desire to listen to the conversation 
 of one who would understand her as that Raymond 
 never could. 
 
 "But I am here, and he is far away. That is 
 in my favor," he muttered, as he went to the cup 
 board in response to Adelina's abrupt demand for 
 a clean plate for the steak, when it should come 
 in. 
 
 "What did you say, Pietro?" 
 
 "Nothing. I was only humming a bar or two 
 of my 'Song of a Soul,' " he answered, with a 
 slightly bitter emphasis on the title of his composi 
 tion. 
 
 She made no comment on this, but kept on 
 bustling about with her culinary preparations, 
 while he laid the cloth disconsolately. 
 
 "There he is, back," said Pietro, in an unin 
 terested tone. "I hear him on the stairs."
 
 i;8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Who, Uncle Luigi?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Luigi breezed into the room, holding aloft in 
 his right hand a goodly-sized steak in a paper-bag, 
 while the open mouth of another bag under his left 
 arm revealed tomatoes and a lettuce. 
 
 "I come back," he proclaimed, superfluously. 
 "If this not a tender steak, I go back and kill the 
 butcher. We will have a salad. I make him my 
 self. Get the oil and vinegar, Pietro." 
 
 "I'm busy," growled Pietro. "I have to help 
 Adelina cook the steak." 
 
 "Si. That is right," assented Luigi, with undis 
 turbed good temper. "I get the things for the 
 salad myself. You help Adelina." 
 
 There never had been such a meal prepared 
 and eaten in the Golfanti apartments. Luigi pro 
 nounced it magnificent, giving all the credit for it 
 to Adelina's cooking of the steak, although she in * 
 sisted that the salad, in which no one had a hand 
 but himself, was the star dish of the menu. For 
 tunately for the butcher, the steak was tender and 
 juicy. 
 
 There was music and lots of chat after dinner, 
 and it was nearly nine o'clock when Luigi and Pie 
 tro walked to Broadway, with Adelina between 
 them, to see her home.
 
 THE CLIMAX 179 
 
 "Here the car comes, Adelina," said Luigi. "It 
 won't take long for us to ride up to Thirty-eighth 
 street." 
 
 "Can't we walk, Uncle Luigi? It is such a 
 beautiful evening." 
 
 "Si. It is not far. But we must not make 
 you tired." 
 
 "I am a country girl, remember. I am used 
 to long walks," she said. "This little distance will 
 be nothing." 
 
 So the three strolled up Broadway, with its 
 dazzling electric lights, its throngs of sauntering 
 men and women, its musical jingle of street-cars, 
 its gay theatre entrances and hotel cafes, and its 
 general atmosphere of reckless gaiety smothering 
 out of sight the misery that lurked beneath, so 
 close to the surface, as if it were not there at all. 
 
 Adelina was too delighted to talk, or to notice 
 whether her companions did so or not, and she took 
 as little heed of Luigi's ceaseless chatter as of Fie- 
 
 tro's brooding muteness. 
 
 i 
 
 "Good night, Uncle Luigi," she said, as in due 
 time, they stood at the foot of the brownstone steps 
 of Mrs. Bates's boarding-house. "I shall come to 
 you on Thursday for another lesson. Meanwhile, 
 I'll practice that exercise very hard." 
 
 "Si. I like to hear you say that. Addio."
 
 i8o THE CLIMAX 
 
 She shook hands with both of them, and then 
 ran up the steps. As she opened the door with 
 the key Mrs. Bates had given her, she waved a 
 playful farewell to Pietro, who was looking back. 
 Then she went in, and a minute or two later found 
 herself in her gaunt little back room at the top of 
 the house. 
 
 "What a delightful time I have had on my 
 first evening in New York," she murmured, as she 
 locked herself in. 
 
 But afterward she cried herself to sleep, never 
 theless.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "How beautiful is this house! The atmosphere 
 Breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers 
 Seem full of welcomes." 
 
 Adelina breakfasted at the plate-glass res 
 taurant she had patronized for luncheon the day 
 before. Then she returned to the boarding-house 
 and sought Mrs. Bates's "parlor," to use the piano, 
 in accordance with the dollar a week arrangement 
 made for her by Luigi Golfanti. A dank, gloomy, 
 stuffy apartment was this salon. It was pervaded 
 by a peculiar odor, as of the fumes of stale tobacco 
 rising from a charnel-house. When Adelina opened 
 the piano, which was an old-fashioned square, the 
 smell waxed much stronger, and as she told Luigi 
 afterward she half feared that the talented Mr. 
 Brindleheimer, with a cigar in his mouth, had died 
 inside the precious instrument which bore his 
 name, and had never been found. 
 
 Once fairly at her work, however, Adelina for 
 got all about the smell and sordidness of the place. 
 She had raised a window-shade, so that she could 
 read her music, and went through her practice in 
 
 181
 
 182 THE CLIMAX 
 
 as self-concentrated a way as ever she had done it in 
 her own rose-scented music-room in Azalia. Once 
 Mrs. Bates opened the door and looked in. But 
 Adelina was executing a difficult cadenza just then, 
 and did not hear her. So Mrs. Bates, after listening 
 for a few moments and making sure that the gas 
 had not been lighted for she well knew it would 
 be too dark to see "without it unless the window- 
 shade were raised quietly withdrew about her 
 business. 
 
 Adelina could think about other things while 
 she sang, for both singing and playing had become 
 second nature. She read the notes and played 
 them mechanically on the piano, while her familiar 
 ity with all her exercises and selections enabled 
 her to sing them without conscious effort of brain. 
 So it was that she busily reviewed her life and spec 
 ulated on the future for an hour before she 
 stopped and looked at an old yellow-faced clock 
 with too much gilding and rococo decoration to be 
 respectable which ticked funereally on the man 
 tel-piece, to see what time it was. 
 
 "Half-past ten. Well, I'll practice till half-past 
 eleven, and then I'll go out for a walk," she de 
 cided. "I wonder what John is doing. Somehow, 
 I have been thinking about him ever since I came 
 down stairs. Surely there cannot be any connec-
 
 THE CLIMAX 183 
 
 tion in my mind between him and this room, be 
 cause both of them are so stiff and proper and dis 
 mal." 
 
 The next moment she rebuked herself for the 
 unkind thought, even though it had been more than 
 half in fun. She almost wished she had written to 
 him directly, instead of only referring to him in 
 her letter to Carrie. It was true he never under 
 stood her, and he always made her unhappy when 
 she said anything which reminded him, ever so 
 distantly, of the great ambition of her life. But 
 that his regard for her was sincere she could not 
 doubt. What a splendid brother he would have 
 made! For that matter, he had filled the part of 
 a brother to her ever since, as a child, she had first 
 been taken to Azalia. He had always kept a big- 
 brotherly eye on her, and it had been as natural to 
 appeal to "Jacky" when she was in any sort of dis 
 tress or difficulty as if they really had been brother 
 and sister. 
 
 But a brother is not everything to a girl, and 
 Adelina doubted whether she ever could accept 
 John Raymond in any other relation. Had he been 
 in sympathy with her aspirations it might have 
 been different. But he was not even musical. He 
 could not "carry a tune," as they said in Azalia, 
 and although he enjoyed listening to singing, es-
 
 184 THE CLIMAX 
 
 pecially hers, he never attempted to sing himself. 
 Perhaps the reason that he seemed to like hers so 
 much was that he liked her. She smiled at this 
 thought inwardly, for she could not screw her 
 mouth up into a smile while she was singing. Then 
 she wished he didn't like her, only to find that such 
 a wish was accompanied by a little ache in her 
 heart. How did she really feel toward him? 
 
 She kept on singing. She never had been able 
 to answer that question to her satisfaction. It is 
 perhaps worthy of remark that, in all her debate 
 with herself as to what was John Raymond's exact 
 place in her regard, she never even thought of Pie- 
 tro. 
 
 It was nearly noon when at last she got up 
 from the stool and closed the heavy, double-hinged 
 lid of the big square piano, shutting in part of the 
 Brindleheimer effluvia, but leaving enough floating 
 about to save the room from losing its distinctive 
 flavor. She carried her music books up to her bed 
 room. There were inquisitive boarders in Mrs. 
 Bates's pension who used the parlor in the evening, 
 some of whom were partly responsible for the stale 
 tobacco, who would be sure to thumb through her 
 music, none too tenderly. Adelina had seen some 
 of these boarders on the staircase, and she didn't 
 like the look of them, particularly the over-dressed
 
 THE CLIMAX 185 
 
 young lady, with a mop of light yellow hair and 
 watery eyes, who had smiled at her in a friendly 
 way as she passed. 
 
 When Adelina went out for her walk she saw 
 enough to keep her mind engaged, without letting 
 it brood over her personal perplexities. Like most 
 people who visit New York for the first time, she 
 marveled at its vastness. She was awed by the 
 apparently endless avenues and streets, even more 
 than by its towering buildings. She had heard in 
 Azalia about the "skyscrapers," and was prepared 
 for them. In fact, she experienced a little disap 
 pointment that they were not higher. The Azalia 
 estimate was that most of them brushed the clouds, 
 even if the roofs were not appreciably close to the 
 moon. As for Madison Square Garden, the "Flat- 
 iron" building, and the two great opera houses, 
 where Nordica, Caruso, Mary Garden, Sembrich, 
 Eames and the rest of the famous stars sang in 
 grand opera, new and old, they were so familiar to 
 her by hearsay that she recognized them at once. 
 She made a special trip down Thirty-fourth street 
 to see the Manhattan, and at the Metropolitan 
 walked into the spacious lobby just to feel that she 
 was under the roof which had sheltered so many 
 great songsters. 
 
 Late in the afternoon she practiced her exercise
 
 i86 THE CLIMAX 
 
 for another hour, with the aid of the Brindleheimer 
 monstrosity, and then went for supper to her plate- 
 glass restaurant, where the flapjack artist, in his 
 white cap and apron, was still at his endless task. 
 She spent the evening in her bedroom, reading, and 
 when she went to bed, after her exciting day, she 
 fell asleep without crying. 
 
 It was just as Adelina was about to leave the 
 house, the next afternoon, to go to Uncle Luigi's 
 for her lesson, that Mrs. Bates intercepted her in 
 the hall. There was a hard smirk on the landlady's 
 weazened face, and the girl prepared herself for 
 battle. 
 
 "Miss Von Hagen, may I speak to you a mo 
 ment?" 
 
 Adelina stopped and waited for what was com 
 ing. She knew, somehow, that Mrs. Bates's com 
 munication would not be pleasant. 
 
 "Er times are very hard, Miss Von Hagen." 
 
 "Are they?" 
 
 Adelina said this mechanically. She had heard 
 people in Azalia make that assertion about "hard 
 times" so often, that it had lost its meaning for her. 
 
 "Yes. I never seen 'em worse. What with the 
 big rent, and the wear and tear of furniture, and 
 the gas, and all them things, I can't hardly get 
 along. Of course, six dollars a week for a nice airy 
 room like you've got, with light and heat throwed
 
 THE CLIMAX 187 
 
 in, is very cheap. There ain't another house in this 
 part of the city where you could get such a room 
 for less than ten." 
 
 Mrs. Bates paused for breath, and Adelina was 
 tempted to remind her that, as it was early in Sep 
 tember, there was no artificial heat in her room. 
 But she immediately decided that it was not worth 
 while, so she said nothing and let the landlady 
 go on. 
 
 "So I want to ask if you'd mind doubling up?" 
 
 "Doubling up?" repeated Adelina, bewildered. 
 
 "Yes. Take another lady into your room with 
 you. She is a very nice, hard-working girl. I've 
 knowed her for years. She's a manicure." 
 
 "But " 
 
 Well, of course, as I say, six dollars is too 
 little for your room, and, unless you'll agree to 
 double up with this lady I speak of, I shall have 
 to make your rent eight dollars after this week." 
 
 The absurd impossibility of two persons occu 
 pying the little hall room was manifest, and Ade 
 lina answered coldly that she would move at the 
 end of the week, for which her rent had been paid. 
 
 "Very well, Miss Von Hagen. That will be 
 Monday. Signer Golfanti engaged the room for 
 you that day, and though you didn't sleep in it on 
 Monday night, of course it was yours if you'd been
 
 i88 THE CLIMAX 
 
 here. I'll tell the other lady she can move in on 
 Monday morning, and I must ask you kindly to 
 have your trunk taken out by then." 
 
 Mrs. Bates flounced away to her lower regions, 
 and Adelina went to Uncle Luigi for advice. 
 
 "So ! The fool old woman !" was Luigi's ex 
 plosive exclamation, when Adelina had told her 
 story. "What she think you are sardine? I give 
 Mrs. Bates piece of my mind when I see her good 
 large piece, too. Maladetta!" 
 
 "I could kill her!" put in Pietro, whose indig 
 nation had kept him silent till now. 
 
 "That would not help the situation, Pietro," 
 laughed Adelina. "What troubles me is to know 
 where I shall find another room. I'm afraid I shall 
 have to depend on Uncle Luigi, as I did before." 
 
 "Si. I will get you a nice room nicer than 
 old Bates's, in a fine place, where it is quiet and 
 respectable. Si. That will be easy. Now, your 
 lesson. Sit down at the piano." 
 
 The lesson went on in about the same way as 
 had the other, two days before. Luigi was in 
 sistent that she must sing exactly as he desired, 
 and he did not spare her a scolding once, when he 
 considered it deserved. Pietro had gone into the 
 studio, and was engaged with a pupil not Anton 
 Rubinstein, this time.
 
 THE CLIMAX lg 
 
 "You ha' n y U keep h USe f r me 'Tuesday," 
 Luigi told her. lessons for doin S if tell you to do, 
 and you try to do i.~ ee ' -* be a great singer, 
 
 Adelina. Ah, I wish I had you always where I 
 could watch you when you practice, and correct 
 you whenever you make little mistake. I would 
 get you on so much faster so much faster. Now 
 I give you lesson, and you go away for two days. 
 You practice by yourself. I not there to help when 
 you get to hard place, and you must what you 
 call? flounder, till I see you again. It is a pity 
 that you cannot have me all the time, so that " 
 
 His grumbling stopped all at once, and jump 
 ing up from his chair, he strode rapidly up and 
 down the room, his expressive hands and arms 
 beating the air this way and that, in unison with his 
 thoughts. Adelina looked at him expectantly. She 
 knew some plan was revolving in his brain, and 
 that he was endeavoring to mold it into coherent 
 form. The sound of the piano in the studio, where 
 Pietro was giving his lesson, came faintly to her 
 ear at intervals. Then it stopped altogether. The 
 lesson had ended. As Pietro entered the room, his 
 father ran to him, embraced him outside of his 
 arms and shouted: 
 
 "Pietro, we'll do it!" 
 
 "Do what?" demanded Pietro, who had not the
 
 IQO 
 
 THE CLIMAX 
 
 slightest ia .n his father's 
 
 U the other lady she <. 
 mind. 
 
 AJ i- o must,- . 
 
 Adelina! She ith us. Then, turn- 
 
 4- * 
 
 ing to the girl : "That's what I mean, Adelina." 
 
 She looked at him as if she wondered whether 
 he had lost his senses. 
 
 "Uncle Luigi!" 
 
 "Si. That is so. I am your uncle. Never for 
 get that. Well, I take care of my niece. That old 
 woman, Mrs. Bates, not insult her again. Adelina 
 have home of her own, where she will be queen, 
 and no landlady will dare speak to her. Look. 
 Here the way we do. Pietro and I have this big 
 room, and other little room where we sleep. Buono ! 
 Then there is the studio, where Pietro give his les 
 son, while I have my pupil in here. So! Now we 
 take that other room over there, where the door is, 
 locked. It is empty. The landlord want me to 
 take it. I tell him last week I not want it. Now 
 we get it." 
 
 "But, Uncle" 
 
 Luigi laid a hand caressingly on her shoulder. 
 
 "Don't speak till I tell you all, Adelina. We 
 do this : I tell the landlord we will rent that other 
 room. He let me have it cheap. It shall be your 
 room. It larger than the one at Mrs. Bates's, and 
 not cost so much. You pay the rent of that room
 
 THE CLIMAX 191 
 
 yourself. Then you keep house for me and Pietro, 
 and I give you lessons for doing it. So! It will 
 be all business, you see. But I shall be able always 
 to listen when you practice, and you use this 
 piano." 
 
 "But, don't you think people might talk, and " 
 
 "Pouf! What they say? I your uncle, and 
 Pietro your cousin." 
 
 Pietro nodded energetically. 
 
 "Well," continued Luigi. "Your uncle have 
 right to let his niece live with him. You will be 
 like my daughter. That all." 
 
 There was more discussion, and at last Ade- 
 lina was brought to see the idea in the same light 
 as did Luigi. It had appealed powerfully to Pietro 
 from the beginning. 
 
 "You do need someone to cook for you, and to 
 see that the rooms are swept and dusted," she said, 
 slowly, as she thought of the muddle the place had 
 been in the first time she saw it, and recollections 
 of the greasy frying-pan forced themselves upon 
 her. 
 
 "Si," assented Luigi, cheerfully. "Mrs. Vit- 
 torio, who live up stairs, she come and sweep some 
 times. She good woman. Her husband dead, and 
 she have to work hard. Sometimes she go on as 
 'extra' at theatre. Then she cannot come to sweep,
 
 192 THE CLIMAX 
 
 and the rooms they get so dusty I sneeze all day. 
 Eh, Pietro?" 
 
 "I sweep them, don't I, father?" said Pietro, in 
 a slightly injured tone. 
 
 "Si. You do, Pietro. That when I sneeze. 
 But now, when Adelina come, she have Mrs. Vit- 
 torio do it, and when she not able to come, she find 
 another woman. Oh, it will be fine. La, la, la!" 
 
 Luigi caught Adelina and Pietro each by the 
 hand and danced joyously, whirling them both 
 around, so that, in self-defence, they were obliged 
 to join hands with each other, forming a ring. Fool 
 ish folk, weren't they? But they were happy, and 
 all three had Italian blood in them. 
 
 Next Monday Adelina's trunk was in the ad 
 ditional room of the Golfanti suite, and she became 
 mistress of the household of her Uncle Luigi and 
 Cousin Pietro. 
 
 "This seems like home," she said to Luigi, as, 
 having looked with delight about her own cozy 
 chamber, she came into the large room where 
 the grand piano was, with a feeling of ownership 
 that she had hardly expected ever to experience 
 again when she walked out of the garden in Azalia 
 for the last time. 
 
 "It is your home," Luigi reminded her. 
 
 "I hope you'll be happy in it, Adelina," added 
 poor love-lorn Pietro.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 " 'How does he love me?' 
 "'With adorations, with fertile tears, 
 
 With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.' " 
 
 It was nothing less than amazing to Luigi Gol- 
 fanti that he and Pietro had been able to live at all 
 before Adelina came. Neither had realized what a 
 wretched makeshift their existence was when they 
 were blundering along without her. Now it was all 
 so different. She dropped easily and naturally into 
 the position of mother of the family as she said 
 merrily to Pietro, on the second day, when she took 
 a needle and thread out of his awkward fingers and 
 sewed a button on his coat, after he had boggled 
 at it helplessly for a few seconds. It was not only 
 that she cut down the trade of the delicatessen 
 store in the basement, by buying uncooked food 
 and preparing it for consumption on the ever-use 
 ful oil-stove. She saw, as only a woman could, 
 that there were a hundred holes and corners in the 
 housekeeping through which money dribbled and 
 was lost, and which money could easily be saved 
 by ordinary economy. The sheets and tablecloths 
 
 193
 
 194 THE CLIMAX 
 
 had been permitted to go to ruin for lack of a few 
 stitches when they began to give way. Odds and 
 ends of butter, sugar and cheese were wasted. 
 Eggs hid behind dishes and cups in the cupboard, 
 and became unusable. Dust accumulated on the 
 piano, while cigarette-ends (Luigi smoked a great 
 many cigarettes), fell inside the instrument and 
 threatened to clog the action. And all this had 
 been going on for years. 
 
 Adelina went through the apartments like a 
 genius of order and renovation. In less than a 
 week the place looked altogether different. Also, 
 i't smelled better. 
 
 Before she had finished the work of bringing 
 the rooms to a satisfactory state of cleanliness and 
 tidiness she insisted that Luigi and Pietro should 
 submit their wardrobe to her for inspection. They 
 could not do so all at once. Not that either had a 
 large stock of clothing, but because most of it was 
 on their persons during their waking hours. 
 
 "I have only two coats, Adelina," explained 
 Luigi, apologetically. "One is light and the other 
 dark. Which one you want to see first? Then I 
 can put on the other." 
 
 "Either one, Uncle." 
 
 "They both laughed, as if it were a joke to be 
 poor. Perhaps that was the view they took of it,
 
 THE CLIMAX 195 
 
 for Luigi never had outgrown his boyish careless 
 ness over money matters, while to Aclelina, be 
 cause the actual gripe of poverty had always been 
 tmknown to her, worldly possessions were of no 
 particular consequence. Her father had never 
 stinted her in housekeeping money, and she had 
 taken plenty for granted. 
 
 "I have three full suits," volunteered Pietro. 
 
 "Si, and none of them will fit me," said Luigi, 
 with mock regret. "But you may be able to alter 
 them so that I can wear them eh, Adelina?" 
 
 He broke into a hurricane of mirth, in which 
 Adelina was obliged to join, and even Pietro, who 
 had been in one of his frequent trances of adora 
 tion, allowed himself to laugh soberly. 
 
 Adelina took her regular two lessons a week 
 of Luigi, but generally, as she practiced every 
 day, he was near, to give a helpful hint or tell her 
 when she was wrong, so that virtually she had a 
 lesson daily. But he was not always with her. 
 There were hours when she was alone, for both 
 Luigi and Pietro were compelled often to go to the 
 homes of some of their pupils. At such times it 
 delighted her to surprise them with some favorite 
 dish for dinner or supper when they returned, tired 
 and hungry, after a long, disheartening endeavor 
 to beat music into unmusical people. Luigi had
 
 196 THE CLIMAX 
 
 taught her to prepare spaghetti in the Neapolitan 
 style, and it was a common assertion of his that she 
 never could have attained such perfection in the art 
 he called cooking spaghetti an art if she had not 
 been the daughter of an Italian mother. 
 
 Carrie Raymond wrote to her twice, telling 
 her the striking news of Azalia. How Daddy 
 Wylie had got the increase in his pension that he 
 had been after for twenty years ; how Susan Tread- 
 house was back in the choir, and had defied the 
 music committee ever to put her out again ; how 
 Adelina's black Spanish rooster, which John had 
 placed in the care of Mrs. Ehrhardt, had got in 
 with that lady's white leghorn rooster one day, and 
 nearly killed him before the Spanish pirate could be 
 driven off with a broom ; how Professor Theophilus 
 Cooper had announced that he was coming to Aza 
 lia again, to give his lecture on hypnotism and men 
 tal suggestion in the Town Hall, and how she and 
 John were going to hear him, and hoped to persuade 
 their father to go, too. 
 
 John Raymond also wrote once. His letter 
 was of a business complexion. He said he did not 
 think the house could be sold until the spring, but 
 that he was looking after the furniture, and that 
 everything, including the piano, was in good condi 
 tion. He hoped she found her study with Signor
 
 THE CLIMAX 197 
 
 Golfanti had been beneficial, and that the air of 
 New York agreed with her. He said they all missed 
 her very much, and that her friends were counting 
 on seeing her among them again within a year at 
 most. He did not understand exactly how she was 
 living in the same house with Luigi Golfanti and 
 his son, but supposed it was a convenient arrange 
 ment. There was more of the same sort of thing, 
 but not a word about his suffering from her ab 
 sence, nor of his going into the garden every day 
 for a pansy, to wear on his coal-lapel, over his 
 aching heart. Perhaps she had forgotten what she 
 had once told him about the curative effect of that 
 flower, or, if it ever occurred to her, no doubt she 
 thought of it only as a foolish superstition. Possi 
 bly, and yet who knows? 
 
 ..Adelina answered John's letter. She said her 
 singing voice was improving under the tuition of 
 her Uncle, Signer Golfanti, and she was very glad 
 she had come to New York. She mentioned casu 
 ally that she was acting as housekeeper for Signer 
 Golfanti and his son Pietro, and that it was quite 
 like home. She had not been to the opera yet, be 
 cause there was none at that time of year, but she 
 intended to go with her uncle and cousin when the 
 season opened up in the gallery. She would not 
 be able to afford to go in any other part of the
 
 198 THE CLIMAX 
 
 house, because the prices were so high five dollars 
 a seat in the parquette. But Uncle Luigi said the 
 gallery was the best place to hear, on account of 
 the sound rising, and that he would go there, in 
 preference to the parquette or dress-circle, even if 
 he had millions of dollars. She signed herself "Al 
 ways yours sincerely, Adelina Von Hagen." 
 
 Had she a set purpose in using this form of sig 
 nature? That was what John Raymond tried to 
 decide as he pored over the letter in his den 
 known in the Raymond home as "the doctor's li 
 brary" for hours after his father and sister were 
 enjoying the sleep of the pious and good in their 
 respective beds. 
 
 John dissected the "Always yours sincerely" 
 word by word. "Always?" That was comforting, 
 to begin with. She always had been his, and she 
 always would be. Of course, she desired to remind 
 him of the fact. If she really meant that, what 
 need to worry? "Yours?" Yes, she was his. She 
 admitted it. Moreover, she was always his, as the 
 first word had told him. Then, to clinch it, she had 
 added the assurance "sincerely." That was a beau 
 tiful word sincerely. In this connection it could 
 only mean that she wanted him to understand she 
 was sincere, and that he could depend on her, no 
 matter though she was temporarily out of his life.
 
 THE CLIMAX 199 
 
 He wished, however, she had been content to call 
 herself simply "Adelina." Surely the addition of 
 her surname was unnecessary. She was "Adelina" 
 to him always had been. She couldn't expect him 
 to think of her as "Miss Von Hagen," could she ? 
 
 He turned it over and over in his mind, as he 
 smoothed the letter out on the table, under the 
 strong light of his green-shaded student lamp, but 
 never was he entirely satisfied. He put one part 
 of the signature against another, and weighed with 
 nicety each sentence she had written throughout 
 the entire letter. At the end he found himself 
 where he had been at the beginning in a slough of 
 perplexity and tormenting doubt that made him 
 sigh and pace up and down the room frowningly 
 for many minutes at a time. It was nearly daylight 
 when he went to bed, but as he lay down the prob 
 lem which had been distressing him for hours was 
 solved, at least to the extent that he had made up 
 his mind what to do. 
 
 John Raymond was very busy for the next two 
 weeks, frequently consulting with Dr. Simmons and 
 'Squire Morgan, and holding earnest conversations 
 with his father and sister. The general population 
 were not taken into his confidence, but somehow it 
 leaked out that "Doc"' Raymond contemplated 
 going away from town, to "learn to be a better doc-
 
 200 THE CLIMAX 
 
 tor," as Mrs. Solomon Potter phrased it, when 
 talking it over with Miss Crupp and Mrs. Wilkins. 
 Mrs. Potter had not heard the "perticklers," but 
 she understood he was going to New York, to 
 spend his time in the hospitals, where he would 
 have a chance to operate on patients at "clin- 
 tericks." Miss Crupp opined, sonorously, that pos 
 sibly Mrs. Potter meant to say "clinics." But the 
 good lady took the correction in very ill part, re 
 marking, in a lofty tone, that Miss Crupp was mis 
 taken that while Miss Crupp might have "clinics" 
 in her mind, she (Mrs. Potter) meant what she said, 
 which was "clintericks." This point disposed of, 
 the discussion of "Doc" Raymond's going away 
 was resumed, the final decision being that it would 
 be a good thing for him. 
 
 It was not overlooked by the gossips that Ad- 
 die Von Hagen was in New York, and that more 
 than likely this was one of the reasons "Doc" 
 wanted to go there. Gossiping women are often 
 wrong in their conjectures. On the other hand, 
 sometimes they hit the truth. 
 
 Adelina had been occupying her little bedroom 
 in the Golfanti suite of apartments for three weeks, 
 becoming daily more attached to her Uncle Luigi 
 and more familiar, in an elder sister way, with Pie- 
 tro, when one day a letter came that sent a thrill
 
 THE CLIMAX 201 
 
 through her the nature of which she could not define 
 positively either as pleasure or dismay. If she had 
 analyzed the feeling closely she might have come 
 to the conclusion that it was a mixture of both. 
 The envelope was postmarked "New York," and the 
 name of a hotel in the neighborhood of Madison 
 Square was printed in the upper left-hand corner. 
 
 She was alone when the missive came. It hap 
 pened to be a morning when both Luigi and Pietro 
 had been obliged to go out early to give lessons, 
 and she was about to sit down to the piano for prac 
 tice. There were only a few lines. They read: 
 
 ''Dear Adelina I have come to New York, to 
 attend lectures in the hospitals, and intend to re 
 main some time. When may I call to see you and 
 your friends, Signer Golfanti and his son? May I 
 come to-morrow (Thursday) ? I trust you are all 
 well. I am at a hospital not far from your address 
 from eleven to three every day. 
 
 "Hastily, but sincerely, 
 
 "JOHN RAYMOND." 
 
 That was all. Adelina thought he might have 
 written more, even if he was in haste. It would 
 not have taken many minutes to add a few lines 
 which would show that he was something more to 
 her than a mere acquaintance. It was all very well 
 for her to write to him in an offhand way. She 
 was a girl, and he could not expect her to be ef-
 
 202 THE CLIMAX 
 
 fusive, especially on paper, in black and white. She 
 did not know that she ever would say "Yes" to the 
 important question he had put to her three times, 
 but she liked him. They had been playmates as 
 children, and she had accustomed herself to lean 
 on him in later years. That was proof that he was 
 more to her than other young men, and he should 
 have recognized it by sending a longer and 
 warmer letter. As for his being in New York, 
 that was not so much of a surprise. He had always 
 said he meant to go there at some time or other. 
 Of course, it gave her a little shock to be told that 
 he was here now, but she would have felt that if 
 he had come at any other time without warning. 
 When you think a person is hundreds of miles 
 away, you are sure to experience some slight agita 
 tion if you learn suddenly that he is only just 
 around the corner. That was one of John's 
 offences. She was inclined to be angry with him 
 for not having let her know that he was about to 
 leave Azalia. It was inconsiderate, to say the least. 
 When Luigi and Pietro came in from their les 
 sons, within a few minutes of each other, half an 
 hour later, they found Adelina at the piano, singing 
 industriously, with the open letter by the side of 
 her music-book in front of her. She stopped sing 
 ing as Luigi entered and held out the letter to him.
 
 THE CLIMAX 203 
 
 "What is it, Adelina ?" he asked. 
 
 "From Mr. Raymond. He is in New York,, and 
 wants to come and see you and Pietro." 
 
 Luigi read the letter deliberately. 
 
 "So? He want to see me and Pietro, eh? He 
 not want to see you, of course," said Luigi, with a 
 quizzical laugh. "Anyhow, he nice fellow, and I 
 glad to see him. Pietro want to see him, too. Eh, 
 Pietro?" 
 
 But Pietro went to his studio, shutting the 
 door with a bang. 
 
 "What shall I tell him, Uncle? He says he 
 would like to see us to-morrow?" asked Adelina, 
 looking at the letter. 
 
 "Tell him it will give us all pleasure to see him. 
 We all be home to-morrow. Buono! Let him 
 come to breakfast." 
 
 "Breakfast, Uncle?" cried Adelina, incredu 
 lously. 
 
 "Yes. You see he says he at the hospital from 
 eleven to three. Well, he not be able to come for 
 luncheon, and he not want to wait till evening." 
 
 "Perhaps he does." 
 
 "No, no, no, Adelina. I see him looking at 
 you when I in Azalia, and I know. He not wait 
 any longer than he can help. We have him here 
 for breakfast at nine, eh?"
 
 204 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "I should never have thought of inviting him 
 at that time." 
 
 "Then my thoughts are better than yours, eh? 
 Now you write him nice note. Say he come for 
 breakfast at nine in the morning. You put him in 
 envelope the letter, I mean and I take him to his 
 hotel and leave it for him myself." 
 
 Luigi Golfanti's pronouns were inclined to be 
 come confused under the influence of excitement, 
 but the girl understood him. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Luigi, you must not take that trou 
 ble." 
 
 "Si. I take him. You write the note. It would 
 not get there in time through the mail, maybe." 
 
 Adelina did as she was told. She wrote that 
 they all wanted to see him, and that he must come 
 to breakfast with them the next morning, so that 
 his visit would not interfere with his engagements 
 at the hospital. They would expect him at nine. 
 
 "Where has father gone, Adelina?" asked Pie- 
 tro, coming from the studio as he heard the outer 
 door of the large room close. 
 
 "To Madison Square, with a letter. Mr. Ray 
 mond will be with us for breakfast to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "Will he? Are you glad he's coming?" 
 
 "Why, of course. Aren't you?"
 
 THE CLIMAX 205 
 
 "Yes. I'm delighted," replied Pietro, shortly. 
 
 Then he marched to the piano and played 
 thunderously, while Adelina, appearing not to no 
 tice the noise, went, with a thoughtful face, about 
 her preparations for luncheon.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Then give me leave to read philosophy, 
 And, while I pause, serve in your harmony." 
 
 John Raymond was out when Luigi Golfanti 
 delivered Adelina's letter at the hotel, so there 
 could be no immediate answer to the invitation. 
 But Adelina never doubted that their expected 
 guest would arrive in time for breakfast the next 
 day. So sure was she that he would be there at 
 nine o'clock, that she made the coffee, timed to be 
 ready to pour on the stroke of the hour, had the hot 
 rolls in the little tin oven belonging to the oil- 
 stove, and put the eggs handy in a saucer, waiting 
 to be dropped into the boiling water in the sauce 
 pan over one of the burners. The breakfast 
 equipage, always neat and clean under her care, 
 was even more inviting than usual, if that could 
 be possible. In a glass vase in the centre of the 
 table was a cluster of fresh pansies. She had or 
 dered them at the florist's the day before, and had 
 been for them that morning. 
 
 Pietro had just entered the room from his 
 studio, and, seated on the piano-stool, he watched 
 
 206
 
 THE CLIMAX 207 
 
 her arranging them with a deft, light, caressing 
 touch, such as only a woman can give to flowers. 
 
 "How do you like the pansies, Pietro?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Why didn't you get roses?" was his response. 
 "American Beauties are what I like." 
 
 He looked at her languishingly. 
 
 "Don't be silly, Pietro," she said, as, glancing 
 at the clock, she saw that it was ten minutes of 
 nine. "What's Uncle doing?" 
 
 "Shaving," replied Pietro. Then : "Am I silly 
 because I call you an American beauty? That's 
 what you are. It isn't my fault." 
 
 He turned to the piano and played part of his 
 "Fragment," which he had told her in his letter to 
 Azalia was to be called "The Song of a Soul." Sud 
 denly, he asked, without looking away from the 
 keyboard : 
 
 "What time is this Doctor What's-his-name 
 coming?" 
 
 "Doctor 'What's-his-name' is not his name, Pie 
 tro," she replied, reprovingly, as she poured some 
 milk from its bottle into a pitcher. 
 
 Pietro tossed his head impatiently and made 
 a lightning run in arpeggios with his right hand, 
 while he banged out his ill-humor in fierce heavy 
 chords with the other.
 
 208 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Well, what time is Doctor John Raymond to 
 honor us with his company?" 
 
 Adelina ignored the slow, sneering emphasis 
 with which Pietro had uttered John Raymond's 
 name, and returned : 
 
 "About nine." 
 
 "I don't like him," snapped Pietro. 
 
 "You hardly know him. You only saw him 
 two or three times when you made that short visit 
 to my father in Azalia." 
 
 "I saw enough of him to know I didn't care 
 for him, and I wish you didn't. Why couldn't he 
 stay in Ohio, where he belongs?" 
 
 "Why didn't I?" laughed Adelina. 
 
 She was different, he told her, moodily, strik 
 ing the piano keys in chords, triplets and little 
 chromatic runs up and down. He was trying to 
 control himself so that he could meet John Ray 
 mond with some pretence of cordiality. In five 
 minutes this "interloper," as Pietro mentally styled 
 him, would arrive. 
 
 "I don't see that there is much difference," she 
 said, raising the lid of the coffee-pot and looking 
 into it solicitously. "I came to New York to study 
 singing. Doctor Raymond came to improve him 
 self in his profession. The only distinction is that
 
 THE CLIMAX 209 
 
 I give my time to music, while he goes to the hos 
 pital, hoping to become an abler physician." 
 
 Pietro flung himself from the piano-stool im 
 patiently. 
 
 "Bah! He came to New York because you are 
 here." 
 
 "Well, wouldn't you do the same thing?" she 
 rejoined. "Wouldn't you, Pietro?" 
 
 But Pietro had no opportunity to reply just 
 then, even if he had intended to do so, for Luigi 
 came surging in from his bedroom, not only shaved, 
 but with his gray hair arranged in the killing 
 fashion in which he had worn it in the days when 
 he played Manrico, Faust and Lohengrin to the 
 Leonora, Margherita and Elsa of Adelina's mother. 
 He did not often trouble himself about the set of 
 his hair, but he felt that this was a special occasion 
 to which he must pay due honor. 
 
 "Here I am, Adelina. What's the time?" 
 
 Their apartment bell, communicating with the 
 push-button on the door-post in the street, rang 
 loudly. 
 
 "It's exactly nine o'clock," answered Adelina, 
 gaily, "and here is Doctor Raymond. Who's going 
 to let him in?" 
 
 But Luigi Golfanti was already on his way 
 down stairs. Pietro retreated to his studio. He
 
 210 THE CLIMAX 
 
 didn't believe he could bear being present when 
 Adelina and John Raymond met. 
 
 Adelina stood, alone, by the little oil-stove, 
 looking with unseeing eyes toward the door, while 
 her hands closed and unclosed convulsively. All 
 the careless laughter had left her face, which was 
 pale and set, as she fought desperately with her 
 self, that she might greet John Raymond with 
 something of the old regard in her manner. She 
 had seen him only a month before, but that month 
 had meant so much to her, away from the narrow 
 environment of Azalia. How could she feign to 
 him that she was the same, when she knew so well 
 that she was not? It was as if she had escaped 
 from a prison, and was expected to show pleasure 
 when one of her old keepers came to recapture her. 
 
 Too well Adelina knew that John Raymond 
 would not approve of her present mode of life, in 
 nocent as it was. He never had been in sympathy 
 with her in what she strove for the possession of 
 a highly trained voice, that would render her inde 
 pendent, not only of Azalia, but of every other 
 place. How, then, could she expect him to look 
 with favor on this semi-Bohemian existence of hers? 
 No matter what she may have said to him, he be 
 lieved that eventually she would be his wife, and
 
 THE CLIMAX 211 
 
 he would have liked to order her life in his own 
 way, with that idea ever in view. 
 
 "But he shan't do it. Of that I am deter 
 mined," said Adelina to herself, with a petulant 
 stamp. 
 
 It was at this propitious moment that the door 
 burst open, and in came Luigi, dragging John Ray 
 mond forward, embarrassed and smiling. 
 
 "There she is, Doctor !" shouted Luigi, joy 
 ously. "Adelina, allow me to present Signor Doc 
 tor Raymond." 
 
 The question of how she should receive him was 
 settled on the instant. All her doubts and misgiv 
 ings vanished when she saw his eager, beseeching 
 face, as he almost ran to her, took her hand, and 
 whispered, tremblingly : 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 "Jack !" 
 
 He would have taken her in his arms then, if 
 ever he had done it before. But there never had 
 been any warmer demonstration between them 
 than a hand-clasp, and it was that which had to 
 content him then. But, she had called him "Jack." 
 It was seldom that she had used that intimate ap 
 pellation since they were children together, and for 
 some months before she had left Azalia it had been 
 "John" invariably. Now, in the joy of seeing him
 
 212 THE CLIMAX 
 
 a joy which was so much greater than she had 
 expected to feel it seemed as if only "Jack" could 
 come to her lips. All the internal conflict she had 
 passed through while Luigi had gone down to an 
 swer the bell was wasted energy. John Raymond 
 Wcis more than "John" to her now. He was "Jack." 
 
 Did he comprehend anything of what was in 
 her mind as she repeated, involuntarily, "Jack," 
 while a far-away, dreamy look stole into her gray- 
 blue eyes? Perhaps he did. He firmly believed it 
 possible to read the thoughts of another by a de 
 termined concentration of will, and he was very, 
 very earnest in his desire to know what she was 
 thinking about as he held her hand and heard her 
 call him by the old boy-and-girl name. 
 
 It was only for a few seconds that they stood 
 facing each other, hand holding hand, but it was 
 long enough for Pietro to see them thus, as he came 
 reluctantly from the studio, to speak to the man 
 whose regard Adelina took seriously, whether she 
 looked on him as a lover or not. 
 
 "Here, Pietro ! Here's Doctor Raymond !" 
 cried Luigi, heartily, oblivious of his son's angry 
 confusion. 
 
 "How do you do, Doctor?" said Pietro. 
 
 John Raymond was too happy to notice the 
 coldness* almost rudeness, of Pietro's manner, and
 
 THE CLIMAX 213 
 
 seizing his hand in a warm grasp, he responded, 
 cordially : 
 
 "How are you, Pietro? I am very pleased to 
 see you again." 
 
 Adelina was already at the oil-stove, and as 
 she put four eggs into the boiling water, she called 
 out to Luigi to see that Doctor Raymond had a 
 chair at the table, and to sit down himself, while 
 she poured the coffee. 
 
 "All right, Adelina. Pietro, get the piano-stool 
 for yourself. We have only three chairs, Doctor, 
 so we have to use the stool when we have com 
 pany. But Pietro is used to it. He not often any 
 where else, except on the stool eh, Pietro?" 
 
 Pietro nodded, and as he brought the piano- 
 stool, John and Luigi took their places at the table. 
 Then Adelina, in a pleasant flutter of responsibil 
 ity, which John Raymond thought became her ex 
 ceedingly, poured the coffee, keeping an anxious 
 eye on the egg saucepan meanwhile. 
 
 "I cannot cook more than four eggs at a time," 
 she said. "The saucepan is so small. But I'll put 
 on four more when these are done, and we shall 
 manage somehow." 
 
 The breakfast was a success. How could it 
 be otherwise, with Adelina presiding? That's what 
 Raymond thought, and so did Pietro, the latter
 
 214 THE CLIMAX 
 
 looking as if he regarded it as presumption on the 
 Doctor's part to compliment her as he did sev 
 eral times in the course of the meal. 
 
 "Well, Jack, and how's everyone in Azalia?" 
 asked Adelina, when she found time, amid her 
 duties as hostess, to talk about something besides 
 the breakfast. 
 
 "She calls him 'Jack.' I'd like to know why," 
 was Pietro's mental observation, as he scowled into 
 his coffee-cup. 
 
 "Everybody was well when I left," answered 
 Raymond, who also had not failed to notice that 
 she continued to call him "Jack." "Hundreds of 
 people sent their regards to you. Mr. Treadhouse 
 asked particularly to be remembered." 
 
 "Isn't that the preacher at the church?" put in 
 Luigi. 
 
 "Yes, the Reverend Thomas Treadhouse. You 
 recollect him, don't you?" 
 
 "Si. He preached fine sermon morning and 
 evening, too." 
 
 "Poor Tommy Tittlemouse," said Adelina, 
 smiling: "More coffee, Jack?" 
 
 "No, thank you," answered Raymond. 
 'Tommy Tittlemouse' is Adelina's name for him, 
 Signer," he explained, turning to Luigi. "But he 
 really is a fine man, and Adelina thinks so, too."
 
 THE CLIMAX 215 
 
 "Of course I do," she assented. "But what a 
 pity he has no sense of humor. I think that's why 
 his folks thought he'd make a good preacher." 
 
 "It was a mistake if that was their idea," de 
 clared Raymond, rather warmly. "I never knew a 
 really good preacher who did not possess a very 
 acute appreciation of humor. To be otherwise 
 would imply a lack of understanding, and certainly 
 that cannot be charged against the average minis 
 ter, whatever his denomination." 
 
 "Well, don't be angry, Jack. I was speaking of 
 this one case only not in general, and you must 
 confess that Tommy Tittlemouse is an overpower- 
 ingly solemn individual." 
 
 "I know you used to quiz him shamefully when 
 you were at the 'don't care' age about fourteen or 
 fifteen," laughed Raj^mond. 
 
 "What did you do to him, Adelina?" inquired 
 Luigi, with an anticipatory grin. 
 
 Adelina's merry laugh as a remembrance of 
 past fun came up in her memory, rang musically 
 through the room, and Pietro didn't know why it 
 made him unhappy. 
 
 "Well, for instance, Uncle," said Adelina, "I 
 tried him once on that old conundrum, 'Why is a 
 tin can tied to a dog's tail like death?' " 
 
 "Yes, I've heard it," interjected Raymond.
 
 216 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Tommy hadn't," giggled Adelina. "He 
 thought for a moment at least, I suppose he was 
 thinking and then he asked, sepulchrally, 'Why 
 is it? I don't see any connection between a dog's 
 tail, with or without a tin can, and our mortal end.' 
 I told him the answer was 'Because it is bound to 
 occur.' " 
 
 "Eh?" interrupted Luigi, bewildered. "How is 
 that? Occur? Occur? Oh, I see now a cur. Ha, 
 ha, ha! Very good. Go on, Adelina." 
 
 "Tommy did not speak for nearly a minute. 
 At last he said, still in that voice from the tombs 
 with which he always tries to force home a moral 
 or theological truth, 'Quite right, my child. Death 
 is bound to occur.' He had taken it all seriously, 
 without any idea that there was a catch in it. Of 
 course, I giggled I was only about thirteen and 
 next Sunday he preached a sermon on the sin of 
 frivolity applied to sacred things, aimed directly 
 at me, as I sat in a front pew." 
 
 "That dog of his has a sense of humor," re 
 marked Raymond, with a dry smile. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Uncle," went on Adelina. "I must 
 tell you about Tommy's dog. He is a ferocious ani 
 mal to strangers a bull-terrier. Jack believed he 
 could tame him by What is the name of that
 
 THE CLIMAX 217 
 
 curious power Professor Cooper lectured on that 
 night in the Town Hall, Jack?" 
 
 "Mental suggestion." 
 
 "Yes. That's it. I'd forgotten. Mental sug 
 gestion. Well, Jack applied it to the bull-terrier, 
 and when Jack had him thoroughly tamed " 
 
 Adelina stopped and looked mischievously at 
 John Raymond. 
 
 "Si? What then?" queried Luigi, deeply in 
 terested. 
 
 "The dog bit him." 
 
 A storm of laughter arose at this unexpected 
 result of the experiment. As it died down, John 
 Raymond said, gravely: 
 
 "Yes, that was the way it worked with the 
 bull-terrier, but nevertheless it is a science that 
 the world finds it must reckon with. Already it 
 plays its part in medicine, and that part will ex 
 tend as it is better understood. You remember 
 that I have cured your headaches several times 
 merely by placing my hands on your forehead, 
 Adelina?" 
 
 "I thought that was magnetism. I know you 
 have used that word when you were applying the 
 treatment." 
 
 "Yes, but it was not that alone. Animal mag 
 netism is potential in such cases, but I am con-
 
 2i8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 vinced that mental suggestion meaning that I 
 willed the pain away from your head was the prin 
 cipal agent in curing you." 
 
 Pietro muttered something under his breath 
 which might have been "Bosh !" But nobody heard 
 it, so that it didn't matter. 
 
 "Well, I don't get headaches now," declared 
 Adelina. "The air of New York seems to agree 
 with me." 
 
 "Better than that of Azalia?" asked Raymond. 
 
 "I don't have headaches here, and I did there," 
 she answered, lightly. 
 
 "You don't want to go back, then?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," was her quick reply. "I do want 
 to go back, to sing in the Town Hall, and show 
 those dear ladies of the Sewing Circle, as well as 
 a few others like them, that I didn't come to New 
 York for nothing." 
 
 "Her voice have much improved," said Luigi. 
 "I hope one day it will be equal to her mother's. 
 But she must practice a lot, every day, for many 
 months, and then " 
 
 The good-natured Italian put his right fore 
 finger to the side of his nose, as he often did when 
 his mind was busy, and John Raymond wished he 
 had finished the sentence. 
 
 Breakfast was over by this time, and Adelina,
 
 THE CLIMAX 219 
 
 saying she must dust and tidy up the studio, be 
 cause some of Pietro's pupils would soon be com 
 ing, tripped away, playfully kissing her hand to 
 all three as she disappeared. 
 
 "I'll help you, Adelina," Pietro called after her, 
 and followed her into the studio. 
 
 As the door closed, Luigi lighted a cigarette 
 thoughtfully, after offering the cigarette-box to Ray 
 mond, who declined it. Luigi walked up and down 
 the room twice. Then he stopped by the open fire 
 place, in front of the young man, who was sitting 
 with his back to the table on which the breakfast 
 things still remained. 
 
 "Doctor, I want Adelina to sing for you," said 
 Luigi, blowing two thin columns of blue smoke 
 from his nostrils. 
 
 "I should like to hear her sing." 
 
 "I want you to hear how much the voice it 
 have improved, even in this short time. When I 
 hear it in Azalia it was good. I see its promise. 
 But I want then to have the privilege of training it. 
 Now I have for it great hopes." 
 
 "You speak of her voice as 'it/ as though it 
 were a thing apart from her," observed Raymond, 
 jealously. 
 
 Luigi walked over to the piano and took his 
 seat on the stool, which Pietro had returned to its
 
 220 THE CLIMAX 
 
 place, and there was the ring of the artist in his 
 tones, as he said, impressively: 
 
 "A voice, to a teacher, is an instrument a vio 
 lin. So ! The breath is the bow the active power 
 in the music. The larynx is the keyboard. You 
 comprehend?" 
 
 Raymond nodded. 
 
 "But that is not all," went on Luigi. "There 
 must be a soul behind the voice, and that is the 
 artist the singer. When Adelina sing, you will 
 hear." 
 
 "I have heard." 
 
 "Yes, but not since I have been her teacher," 
 replied Luigi, with a touch of pride. "However, I 
 have a particular reason for asking you to hear her 
 now. I am not quite satisfied. I fear " 
 
 "You think she may not become a great singer, 
 after all?" 
 
 Do what he would, John Raymond could not 
 help saying this hopefully, as if it would please him 
 should Adelina fail to realize all that her teacher 
 desired for her. 
 
 "I not know yet," answered Luigi. "But, 
 you are a doctor. When she sing, I wish you to 
 note something that You know music?" 
 
 "I have some knowledge of it. I studied vio 
 lin with Adelina's father years ago."
 
 THE CLIMAX 221 
 
 "Ah! Then you will know. When the voice 
 reack the middle register there is a slight loss of 
 evenness. The tone do not balance. I like to know 
 if it is what you call? organic." 
 
 Luigi walked to the window and looked out on 
 the sunlit street, where a huckster was bellowing 
 his wares, as his wagon rumbled over the cobble 
 stones, while a canary at an open parlor window 
 opposite where Rubinstein, the tailor, Anton's 
 father, sat cross-legged on a table, plying his trade 
 tried to drown all other sounds with his shrill 
 bird-song. 
 
 John Raymond smiled grimly. What the hon 
 est Italian music teacher had just said pleased him.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 "The dim, yet tearless eyes, that speak 
 The misery of the breaking heart." 
 
 Luigi Golfanti was impatient for John Ray 
 mond's professional opinion, as a medical man, on 
 Adelina's voice, and, bringing his reverie at the 
 window abruptly to an end, he went to the studio 
 door and called the girl. There was the sound of 
 a scuffle inside, and then she came out, laughing. 
 
 "I beg your pardon for leaving you, Jack," she 
 said. "But I could not let Pietro's studio remain in 
 such a disgraceful condition when he is expecting 
 a pupil. So I had to do some housecleaning in a 
 modest way. And how do you suppose he repays 
 me for my care of his room? You never would 
 guess, I am sure?" 
 
 "How?" asked Raymond, seeing that he was 
 expected to say something. 
 
 "Why, by making love to me. Desperate love, 
 too. I stopped his burning protestations with the 
 dust-cloth and threatened him with the broom. If 
 T hadn't, I'm afraid he would have dragged me 
 away to his waiting steed like young Lochinvar, 
 
 222
 
 THE CLIMAX 223 
 
 and poor Uncle Luigi would have been left to take 
 care of himself. Pietro would have had to get the 
 steed from Murphy's livery-stable, of course, but 
 that wouldn't have troubled him. He is the most 
 violent suitor I ever had." 
 
 John Raymond did not like all this, and his face 
 showed it, while Pietro, following Adelina sheep 
 ishly from the studio, went straight to the piano 
 and began to play improvisations, to hide his con 
 fusion. 
 
 "Doctor Raymond wants you to sing, Adelina. 
 Pietro will play the accompaniment," said Luigi, in 
 a businesslike tone. 
 
 "Do you, Jack?" 
 
 "Yes. I have not heard you sing since you 
 were in Azalia," he answered, "and naturally I am 
 anxious to hear how you have improved." 
 
 While he was speaking she had gone to the 
 piano and selected an "Even Song," which she 
 placed before Pietro. As the accompanist played 
 the prelude, John Raymond looked at the young 
 girl with a longing to take her away and keep her 
 all to himself which might have been apparent to 
 the jealous eyes of Pietro had they not been fixed 
 on the music. Luigi did not see it, of course. His 
 attention was concentrated in his pupil, and he saw 
 nothing but her as she began the song.
 
 224 THE CLIMAX 
 
 It was a tuneful vesper hymn, beginning softly 
 and in simple cadence, but rising toward the end 
 in a joyful swell of melody which gave full oppor 
 tunity for ambitious vocalism. Adelina sang it with 
 ease, while Raymond listened critically, endeavor 
 ing to discover the trifling defect about which Luigi 
 had spoken. Whether he found the shortcoming or 
 not he did not say at once, for Adelina turned to 
 him as she finished, obviously hoping that she had 
 pleased him. So he told her how much he had en 
 joyed the song, and said he would like to wait for 
 another, but that he had only just time to reach the 
 hospital by eleven o'clock. 
 
 Luigi Golfanti went down to the front door 
 with him, determined to know what the doctor's 
 opinion was. 
 
 "It may be as you say, Signor Golfanti," was 
 John Raymond's reply to a direct question. "I do 
 not think I should have noticed it if you had not 
 mentioned it to me beforehand. As it was, I 
 thought I detected a slight roughness of tone in 
 the middle register, which may be the result of 
 some abnormality in the larynx. If that is the case, 
 probably it can be cured by a trifling operation." 
 
 "An operation?" repeated Luigi, in dismay. "I 
 don't like the idea of operating on her throat. The 
 organs of vocalism are very delicate. Suppose the
 
 THE CLIMAX 225 
 
 doctor his knife slip when he operating, and he cut 
 her so bad she not sing at all any more?" 
 
 John Raymond smiled reassuringly, as he said 
 there would be no danger of that kind, that most 
 likely the surgeon would not use a knife at all. and 
 that, if he did, it would be more like a needle than 
 a knife, and too small to do any harm. He added 
 that surgeons were careful, and very seldom made 
 slips. Luigi had pictured an implement like a 
 butcher-knife going down Adelina's throat, and he 
 Avas much relieved that his idea had been all wrong. 
 He was silent for a few moments, standing at the 
 top of the steps and looking musingly down the 
 street. 
 
 "Could you perform the operation, Doctor Ray 
 mond?" he asked, at last, with an effort, as if he 
 dreaded an affirmative answer. 
 
 "I should hardly like to undertake it. I think 
 it would be better to entrust it to a throat special 
 ist. I have a friend, Doctor King, who has had 
 wide experience in that line of practice and is a 
 very able surgeon. I think I can say that, for me, 
 he would do it free of charge." 
 
 Luigi Golfanti brightened up at this, and Ray 
 mond knew that the question of expense had been 
 troubling him. Luigi thanked Raymond again and 
 again.
 
 226 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "When do you think the operation could be 
 done?" he asked. 
 
 "Are you sure Adelina would consent to it?" 
 
 "She do anything I say," was Luigi's confident 
 reply. "She know I would not tell her if it was not 
 for her good." 
 
 Yes, that was true. John Raymond confessed 
 it to himself. This comparative stranger this the 
 atrical Italian had only to suggest, and she would 
 obey. His own hold on her had slipped away. 
 There were others in whom she trusted now as she 
 used to rely on him. She was no longer the gentle, 
 obedient Adelina, with unbounded faith in his judg 
 ment, who had been led by him in the past. He 
 was losing her, and it was all on account of this 
 singing, which was drawing her toward the foot 
 lights to a life in which he would not, and could 
 not, have any part. He was jealous of her and the 
 career on the threshold of which she stood, and the 
 pain of it, which had become so drearily familiar to 
 him, shot again through his heart, and he groaned. 
 But Luigi Golfanti was waiting for him to speak, 
 and he shook himself into action. 
 
 "I shall see Doctor King to-day, Signer," he 
 said, calmly, "and I will speak to him about the 
 operation. If you like, I will come this evening 
 and tell you what he says."
 
 THE CLIMAX 227 
 
 Luigi thanked him again, with what Raymond 
 looked on as uncalled-for effusiveness, forgetting 
 that the Italian knew nothing of what had been 
 passing in his mind. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor, one thing more," called out Luigi. 
 
 Raymond had reached the bottom of the steps 
 and was about to walk rapidly away toward the 
 hospital. He had stopped so long talking at the 
 door that he was afraid he would be late. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "There's a woman in this house, Mrs. Vittorio, 
 who is sick, and too poor to pay a doctor. She live 
 two flights above us." 
 
 "All right. I'll run up and see her this even 
 ing," promised John Raymond. Then he hurried 
 off. 
 
 There was plenty of charity in John Raymond's 
 composition but not toward the stage. It was as 
 well that Luigi had not told him Mrs. Vittorio was 
 an actress. 
 
 Raymond reached the hospital in time, after 
 all. He made his round of the wards, taking notes 
 as he went, witnessed an operation for appendicitis, 
 assisted in the amputation of a leg in an emergency 
 case brought by the ambulance an ironworker 
 who had fallen a few floors from a new skyscraper 
 and was present at the deathbed of a tuberculosis
 
 228 THE CLIMAX 
 
 patient. It was all very interesting, from a profes 
 sional point of view, and he ought not to have been 
 thinking of anything outside. But he was. The 
 face of Adelina Von Hagen peeped at him among 
 those of the students listening to the lecture at the 
 appendicitis clinic ; he saw her hovering about the 
 poor fellow whose leg was cut off, and she accom 
 panied him to the bedside of the consumptive who 
 gave up the struggle behind one of the screens that 
 afford merciful privacy to death in a big hospital 
 ward. The clinic, operations and death were all 
 part of the daily routine of the hospital, and they 
 did not affect John Raymond as they would a 
 stranger to such scenes. So, when his vagrant 
 thoughts followed Adelina and brought her to him, 
 he was able to give her as much attention as he al 
 lowed to his studies. Perhaps he gave her more. 
 
 Doctor King was a tall, lean man, who had 
 been graduated so long ago that he had little pa 
 tience with the pranks of medical students, and 
 was in the habit of saying that young men had no 
 business in the profession. Regarded as one of the 
 best authorities on the treatment of throat ailments 
 in New York, he was on the staff of the hospital 
 specially to attend to such cases, grudgingly giving 
 an hour or so from his private practice, and threat 
 ening every week not to come any more. It
 
 THE CLIMAX 229 
 
 chanced, however, that he had met John Raymond 
 some years before in a Columbus hospital, when 
 the young man's strong common sense had im 
 pressed him favorably. Now that they had come 
 together again in New York, Raymond was de 
 lighted to find that the eminent specialist, whom 
 most doctors held in such awe, even to the point of 
 not daring to address him, behaved to him almost 
 with cordiality. 
 
 "Doctor King," said Raymond, on this day, "I 
 have a case of laryngeal trouble that I should like 
 you to look at in your office, if you will." 
 
 "Who is the patient?" 
 
 "A young lady a friend of mine, from Azalia, 
 Ohio, my home." 
 
 "I see! What's the matter with her?" 
 
 "She sings, and " 
 
 "Strained her vocal cords, and expects me to 
 make her a new set, I suppose," interrupted Doctor 
 King, gruffly. "I don't see why people can't have 
 singing voices and brains at the same time. I'll 
 look at the throat, however for you, Raymond. 
 Understand that. It is strictly for you." 
 
 "When will it be convenient?" asked Ray 
 mond, meekly. 
 
 "Let me see," grunted Doctor King, taking out 
 a red-covered engagement-book and studying it.
 
 230 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "This is Tuesday. Bring the throat to me on 
 Thursday, at three o'clock. Good afternoon." 
 
 They had been standing in the hospital lobby, 
 near the front door. Doctor King bolted out of 
 doers and into a waiting motor-car. He was gone 
 before John Raymond could say anything more. 
 
 "Queer old codger," was the young man's in 
 ward estimate of the great specialist, "but I would 
 not trust Adelina to anyone else." 
 
 Raymond went to his hotel in a brown study, 
 and he had hardly emerged from his sombre reflec 
 tions when he presented himself in the evening at 
 the Golfanti apartment, to be welcomed by Ade 
 lina and Luigi with a warmth that counteracted the 
 chill exhaled by Pietro. 
 
 "I glad you come, Doctor," said Luigi. "Ade 
 lina will sing for you again, and perhaps you go 
 up and see Mrs. Vittorio." 
 
 "Is she very ill?" asked Raymond. "What is 
 her ailment, do you think?" 
 
 "She lost her husband recently, Uncle says, 
 and I think her heart's breaking," explained Adelina. 
 
 "And she has hard work to get along, too," 
 added Luigi. 
 
 "I'll go up and see her before I go home," said 
 Raymond. 
 
 "I have to go to a pupil this evening," an-
 
 THE CLIMAX 231 
 
 nounced Pietro, abruptly, and he went out, with 
 out anyone taking particular heed of him as he 
 observed with fierce indignation. 
 
 "I not know what come over that boy to-day," 
 remarked Luigi, as the door banged. "He been 
 disagreeable ever since he got up this morning." 
 
 Perhaps Adelina could have guessed the cause 
 of it, but if she did she kept it to herself. 
 
 "I go up and see Mrs. Vittorio. I tell her you 
 coming, eh, Doctor?" suggested Luigi. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 Luigi left the room, and Raymond did not fail 
 to notice that he took with him a basket which 
 contained fruit, and that there was a bottle of wine 
 hidden under his threadbare coat. It was easy to 
 surmise that Mrs. Vittorio needed something more 
 sustaining than medical advice. 
 
 Adelina seated herself at the piano and began 
 to run over the accompaniment of the "Even Song" 
 she had sung in the morning, humming the melody 
 at the same time. Somehow, she felt embarrassed, 
 although she hardly could have told why. It may 
 have been because John Raymond was looking at 
 her fixedly and sadly. Without turning her face 
 directly toward him, she was sensible of his gaze, 
 and she wished he would say something. He broke 
 the silence suddenly.
 
 232 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Addie." 
 
 "Yes, Jack?" 
 
 "You know that I love you?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders wearily. 
 
 "You have told me so two or three times. I 
 hope you don't intend to make another formal an 
 nouncement of the interesting fact now." 
 
 Careless perhaps heartless as were the 
 words, she could feel that her cheeks were burning, 
 and it made her angry. She kept on playing. 
 
 "I am not going to annoy you by telling you 
 again, Addie," he replied and there was pitiful 
 hurt in his unsteady accents. "I am only remind 
 ing you of what you know." 
 
 "As a preamble to something unpleasant. It 
 has always been your way to assure me of your 
 strong regard before beginning a lecture. Well, go 
 on. If you are wound up to give me a scolding, 
 don't keep me in suspense. I want to hear the 
 worst." 
 
 Although she spoke jestingly, there was an un 
 dercurrent of bitterness which gave a harsh ring to 
 her voice. Raymond detected it, and he was 
 tempted for an instant to keep silent as he looked 
 at her fair young face, so distressed, despite the 
 defiant smile that curled her lip and sparkled at the 
 back of her blue-gray eyes. But the brown study
 
 THE CLIMAX 233 
 
 into which he had plunged as he left the hospital, 
 and which continued for so long, had resulted in a 
 determination to say what he believed to be right, 
 and he nerved himself to keep steadily along the 
 road blazed for him by his conscience. 
 
 "I was only going to remark," he said, "that 
 I love you too much to see you in this false posi 
 tion." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "In the first place, this old man, Luigi Gol- 
 fanti, is not your uncle." 
 
 "He is my mother's cousin. He was her friend 
 her true friend." 
 
 "Perhaps so, but is it not perilous to your good 
 name to be living here, in these apartments, with 
 two single men? Would you dare do it if you were 
 in Azalia?" 
 
 She made a gesture which expressed unmistak 
 ably her contempt for the opinion of Azalia. 
 
 John Raymond saw it, and it only made him 
 more determined to save her, if he could. 
 
 "The whole thing is wrong, dear," he went on. 
 "You are blinded to your danger. See, Addie, I 
 did not mean to repeat what you seem not to want 
 to hear, but I can't help it. I love you, Addie, and 
 if heaven had not gifted you with this voice that 
 has taken you from your home and brought you
 
 234 THE CLIMAX 
 
 into a free-and-easy atmosphere that distorts your 
 view, I believe I could have made you love me." 
 
 He had taken her left hand as it lay idle on the 
 keys of the piano much as he had captured it on 
 the gate that moonlit evening in Azalia which 
 seemed so far, far away in the past. 
 
 Without withdrawing her hand, she stood up 
 and faced him. 
 
 "Jack, I know you have the best intentions in 
 the world. But you don't understand. That's 
 all." 
 
 "I'm afraid I do understand too well," he an 
 swered, miserably. 
 
 Thefe was silence while the clock ticked per 
 haps a dozen times. Then she asked, quietly: 
 
 "If you saw a friend of yours hammering his 
 head against a stone wall, what would you do?" 
 
 "I'd try to make him stop, I suppose." 
 
 "Then tell me how to make you stop hurting 
 yourself through me. My mind is made up. The 
 humdrum of married life would be impossible to 
 me. Fate has taken me by the hand, more firmly 
 than you are holding it now, and I could not go 
 any other way, if I would." 
 
 He dropped her hand and walked to the other 
 end of the room, but returned immediately after 
 ward, as if a new thought had come to him.
 
 THE CLIMAX 235 
 
 "If," he said, in a tone which had a strange 
 note of hopefulness, "your voice should not prove 
 so great as you expect? Or if you should lose it 
 altogether?" 
 
 "I can't suppose anything so dreadful and so 
 unlikely.*' 
 
 "But, if you should lose it?" he persisted. 
 "Would you, in that case, marry me?" 
 
 The pitying smile that had been on her face 
 more than once since they had been talking over 
 spread it again, as she said : "What is the us of 
 my answering that absurd question?" 
 
 "Answer it, to please me, won't you? I am 
 like a drowning man clinging to a straw." 
 
 "'Nonsense ! There are plenty of other girls in 
 the world." 
 
 "Won't you answer?" 
 
 "Of course I will. If I should lose my voice, 
 and there's no one else I like better than you, I'll 
 think about it." 
 
 He had no chance to say whether this satisfied 
 him or not, for the door opened and Luigi blew 
 gustily into the room, and his wholesome good- 
 humor temporarily wafted away all morbid per 
 plexities. 
 
 "I'm ready to go up to see Mrs. Vittorio," said 
 Ravmond.
 
 236 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "She is asleep, and she have another woman 
 with her," said Luigi. "Besides, she is much bet 
 ter, and I don't think you will have to trouble about 
 her, though I appreciate your kindness just the 
 same.* 
 
 John Raymond thought of the basket of fruit 
 and bottle of wine, and he guessed why she might 
 not need him. A kindly, charitable neighbor could 
 do her more good than a professional physician.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "Such strains as would have won the ear 
 Of Pluto, to have set quite free 
 His half-regained Eurydice." 
 
 It was a pleasant evening that John Raymond 
 spent in the Golfanti apartments. He was almost 
 happy under the influence of Adelina's singing and 
 Luigi's cheerful temper. Pietro came back in a lit 
 tle more than an hour., and played Adelina's ac 
 companiments. While he was absent she accom 
 panied herself. But she said she preferred to stand 
 up to sing, so that she could send her voice forth 
 freely. 
 
 "I feel as if I were singing before an audience 
 when I stand," she explained, "and it inspires me 
 to my best efforts." 
 
 John Raymond wished she had some other 
 reason. 
 
 "And your chest is not cramped when you 
 stand, either," remarked Luigi. "The audience is 
 nothing." 
 
 "You do not feel any discomfort in your throat 
 237
 
 238 THE CLIMAX 
 
 while singing, do you?" asked Raymond, in the dis 
 passionate tones of a physician. 
 
 "No. But sometimes it seems as if I lose con 
 trol of the melody for an instant when I strike a 
 certain note. It is probably only a fancy. I 
 doubt whether anyone can notice it except Uncle 
 Luigi. He tries to prevent my becoming vain by 
 telling me that my middle register is uneven." 
 
 "Doctor King, the famous throat specialist, 
 wants to see you on Thursday afternoon," was John 
 Raymond's response to this. 
 
 She looked with startled eyes from him to 
 Luigi, and back again. 
 
 "Is it as bad as that, do you think?" 
 "No, it is nothing, Adelina," Luigi hastened to 
 assure her. "Only, such a voice as yours must be 
 taken care of. It is so with all the great singers 
 of the opera. They have their own doctors always 
 with them, who spray, and spray, and spray their 
 throats every day. It is part of the business of 
 being a singer. But it not show there is anything 
 wrong. It only to keep the throat in good condi 
 tion." 
 
 Perhaps Luigi realized that he had protested 
 too much when Adelina got up from the piano- 
 stool without replying, and went to her own room,
 
 THE CLIMAX 239 
 
 closing the door after her. Pietro had not yet come 
 home. 
 
 "I a fool. That what I am !" declared Luigi, 
 ruefully. "She go now and wear out her eyes try 
 ing to see down her throat in the mirror. I hope 
 Doctor King he not find anything serious, or it 
 will give her much misery." 
 
 "She will go to see him, of course?" 
 
 "Si. She good girl. I tell her she go to Doc 
 tor King. That all will be necessary. She go. You 
 will see." 
 
 Pietro entered at this juncture, and, with a nod 
 apiece to Raymond and his father, sat down to the 
 piano. 
 
 "Pietro, Adelina go to the doctor on Thursday 
 afternoon," said Luigi. 
 
 "What doctor?" demanded Pietro, fiercely, 
 swinging around from the piano. "Ray " 
 
 "Doctor King. He look at her throat." 
 
 "Oh !" 
 
 "He the great doctor for the voice. You know 
 him, Pietro'?" 
 
 "I've heard of him. I'm glad he will examine 
 Adelina's throat, just to satisfy her and you. I 
 have never noticed anything the matter with it, 
 myself." 
 
 "Pietro, you are a pianist not a vocal instruc-
 
 240 THE CLIMAX 
 
 tor. Remember that," his father rejoined, with dig 
 nity. "You not supposed to know all the delicate 
 membranes of the human organ. It enough for you 
 to tell when the piano out of tune." 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Pietro. "I don't believe 
 there is anything wrong with her throat not much, 
 anyhow." 
 
 Adelina had just come into the big room from 
 her bedroom, and she overheard Pietro's remark. 
 
 "I think Pietro is right," she said. "I have 
 looked into my mouth at the mirror, with the lamp 
 so close I was afraid it would singe my eyebrows, 
 and I cannot see anything. Still, I should like to 
 have Doctor King's opinion. I am glad it is to be 
 soon only the day after to-morrow." 
 
 "Let us hear you sing, Adelina," said Pietro. 
 "If we all listen hard, we might find that uneven 
 note. If it is there, I don't see how it can get away 
 from us. It is like a 'wolf in a piano." 
 
 "What is a 'wolf?' " asked Raymond. "I mean, 
 the kind you refer to." 
 
 "It is when a tuner does not get one or two of 
 the keys up to the right pitch, so that it throws out 
 all the others," explained Luigi. "Tuners call it a 
 'wolf,' because they have to chase it up and down 
 the whole keyboard sometimes before they can 
 catch it. They know it's there, but it is hard to
 
 THE CLIMAX 241 
 
 get hold of it. Pietro thinks it is the same with 
 the uneven tone in Adelina's voice. But a voice 
 and piano are two different instruments, as I told 
 him just now." 
 
 "Stop quarreling, you two, and listen to some 
 thing I have to tell you something I have decided 
 to do, very important," broke in Adelina, suddenly, 
 with a rippling laugh. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Raymond. 
 
 "Some mischief. I see it in her face and hear 
 it in her laugh," declared Luigi, shaking his fore 
 finger at her. 
 
 "No, it isn't mischief. It is a respectable, con 
 ventional thing I mean to do," she insisted. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "I am going to be married." 
 
 "Married? Who to?" -roared Pietro. 
 
 John Raymond looked at her half in apprehen 
 sion, half in hope, and Luigi shook his head as if 
 to reprove her for saying such a thing. He said, 
 sternly : 
 
 "Oh, that is foolish, Adelina. I don't believe 
 it. You should not say that. You young girl, and 
 must be careful how you talk. It is not true, of 
 course, or you would have told me." 
 
 "Confound his insolence !" thought Raymond.
 
 242 THE CLIMAX 
 
 ''What right has he to think she makes him her 
 confidant in everything?" 
 
 "Let me tell you how it is," continued Ade- 
 lina, demurely. "Doctor Raymond has been lectur 
 ing me for living here with only Uncle Luigi and 
 Pietro " 
 
 "Why, what ' spluttered Luigi, indignantly, 
 while Pietro favored John Raymond with a blacker 
 frown than usual. 
 
 "Don't interrupt," she commanded. "The 
 head and front of my offending seems to be that 
 I am a single young woman, living in the same 
 apartments as two single men. If I were married 
 it would be strictly proper. That is the inference. 
 You can all see that. Besides, I have two lovers, 
 each of whom thinks he has the exclusive right 
 to me." 
 
 "Adelina!" expostulated Raymond. 
 
 "Now, I cannot marry both of them, so " 
 
 Pietro was leaning forward eagerly. 
 
 "I won't take either." 
 
 "Then who is to be the happy man?" inquired 
 Luigi, banteringly. 
 
 She ran to Luigi, and placing her two hands 
 on his shoulders, as he sat with his back to the 
 table, cried, merrily: 
 
 "You."
 
 THE CLIMAX 243 
 
 Luigi gasped. 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Yes. Don't you see what a splendid arrange 
 ment it will be? I shall be Signora Golfanti, and 
 therefore in my proper place as mistress of your 
 home, and so I shall not have to lose my teacher. 
 You can give me my lessons just as you are doing 
 now, and I will take care of my little stepson, Pie- 
 tro." 
 
 Pietro did not know whether to laugh or be 
 angry that she should refer to him, even in fun, as 
 if he were a boy, instead of the important man he 
 considered himself. As for John Raymond, he en 
 tirely disapproved of levity in connection with so 
 serious a thing as matrimony, and he fidgeted un 
 easily in his chair as Adelina kept her hands on 
 Luigi's shoulders and pretended she was about to 
 kiss him. 
 
 "Adelina," protested Luigi, "you make joke of 
 things you should not. When the time come for 
 you to be married, there plenty of young men fight 
 for you. At the present you must study and sing. 
 We have Doctor King make your voice better on 
 Thursday, and then you sing as I want. So! But 
 marry no." 
 
 She turned from him with a laughing toss of
 
 244 THE CLIMAX 
 
 her head, and told Pietro to play the accompani 
 ment for the aria, ''Youth's Appeal to Age." 
 
 "You have it there, on the piano, Pietro," she 
 reminded him. "I was singing it yesterday. It 
 will just fit the present situation." 
 
 "What you mean by the present situation, 
 Adelina?" demanded Luigi, severely, as Pietro, 
 having arranged his music, played a dramatic pre 
 lude. 
 
 "I'll show you. You can't escape." 
 
 She took up a melodramatic position in front 
 of Luigi, stretched out her arms to him appeal- 
 ingly, and began to sing, with much florid orna 
 mentation, in the way of trills, shakes and brilliant 
 runs, the following words: 
 
 "From the depths of my trusting heart, I love you. 
 
 Do not spurn my young affection's plea. 
 If youth would bow to the wisdom of the sage, 
 
 Who on earth shall say it nay?" 
 
 As she reached this point, lingering on the last 
 few words with a tremendous cadenza, she seized 
 Luigi by the wrist and dragged him from his chair, 
 as if about to embrace him. 
 
 He pulled himself away, saying, half angrily, 
 half pleadingly:
 
 THE CLIMAX 245 
 
 "Don't be foolish, Adelina, but sing. I love to 
 hear it." Then, to Raymond : "Is it not fine, Doc 
 tor? What can be wrong with that voice? The 
 execution, it is perfect." 
 
 But Adelina was not done with Luigi. Placing 
 her two hands over her heart in operatic fashion, 
 and following him as he retreated to the back of 
 the grand piano, she continued, in a series of high 
 notes, clear and liquid as Tyrolean bells : 
 
 "I love you! Really! Dearly! Nearly!" 
 
 Here she caught him by the coat-tails, and, for 
 the life of him, John Raymond could not help 
 laughing at the absurdity of the performance, al 
 though he wished Adelina were not so familiar 
 with Luigi. But she was at the height of another 
 cadenza, and, carried away by the music and the 
 opportunity to indulge in a little of the acting of 
 which she was always dreaming, she took no notice 
 of Raymond. The cadenza resolved itself into a 
 mighty "Oh, say you love me !" with a high D-flat 
 that made Luigi fairly shout with joy: 
 
 "Listen to that, Doctor! You hear that, Pie- 
 tro? The tone! Ah! It was sublime !" 
 
 In his enthusiasm, Luigfi threw his arms around 
 the girl and kissed her on the cheek, to the disgust 
 of John Raymond, while Pietro gave rein to his
 
 246 THE CLIMAX 
 
 jealousy, in his usual way, by taking it out of the 
 piano. 
 
 "There, Jack. Uncle Luigi has accepted me, 
 you see," cried Adelina, gleefully. "He embraced 
 and kissed me. What more could he do to show 
 that he means to make me Signora Golfanti?" 
 
 John Raymond could stand it no longer. Pick 
 ing up his hat from the side table where Ade 
 lina had place it on his arrival, he said, abruptly, 
 that he had an engagement, and must be going. 
 
 "You will be here on Thursday afternoon, to 
 take Adelina to Doctor King's, eh ?" Luigi reminded 
 him, anxiously. 
 
 "Certainly, at half-past two o'clock. That will 
 give us plenty of time to get to the doctor's office 
 by three." 
 
 "Si. That's well. I go, too, to see Doctor 
 King, with Adelina," answered Luigi. 
 
 Luigi did not go down stairs with John Ray 
 mond this time, and Adelina was looking the other 
 way when he went out. It was perfectly clear that 
 Raymond was displeased over something. 
 
 "Sometimes I think he that Doctor Raymond 
 not care much about any of us," observed Luigi, 
 reflectively, as he lighted a cigarette. "Eh, Ade 
 lina?" 
 
 Adelina did not seem to think it worth while
 
 THE CLIMAX 247 
 
 to express an opinion, but Pietro said, vindictively : 
 
 "He hates me. He likes Adelina, but he 
 doesn't think she should be here with us. That's 
 what's the matter with him." 
 
 "Si? Well, maybe Adelina not be with us 
 long, when Signor Valeri, the impresario, he hear 
 her sing. He make her prima donna just so sure 
 he hear her. Mark that, Pietro." 
 
 "Unless Doctor King decides that I never shall 
 be able to reach the high places of the profession. 
 Doctors can tell, can't they, Uncle?" 
 
 Adelina tried to say this lightly, but there was 
 a catch in her voice that perhaps meant fear a 
 nameless dread that came over her whenever she 
 thought of the approaching examination of her 
 throat. How could she know what the great spe 
 cialist might find? 
 
 "Doctor King he say nothing of the kind," an 
 swered Luigi, hastily. "You practice your exer 
 cises, Adelina. I go read the paper." 
 
 He disposed himself comfortably, cigarette in 
 mouth, with his back to the table, so that the light 
 of the lamp would shine over his shoulder on. the 
 Italian newspaper he had taken up, and paid no at 
 tention either to Adelina or Pietro. 
 
 Those two young people took advantage of 
 Signor Golfanti's abstraction to indulge in a low-
 
 248 THE CLIMAX 
 
 voiced quarrel, punctuated by chords on the piano, 
 with Pietro doing all the talking, while the girl, 
 singing her exercises without a break, continued 
 so to exasperate him by various head-flingings, 
 shoulder-shruggings, raising of eyebrows and 
 scornful glances, that the unfortunate youth was as 
 nearly out of his mind as a swain hopelessly in love 
 could be without becoming actually unsafe to be at 
 large. 
 
 After expressing various uncomplimentary 
 opinions of Doctor Raymond and trying to make 
 her say she did not care for that absent physician, 
 Pietro at last angrily blurted out : 
 
 "You don't appreciate me, either as a man or 
 musician, Adelina. I don't feel like sitting here 
 by the hour, playing accompaniments for anyone 
 who doesn't appreciate me." 
 
 Still singing, she took him by the shoulders and 
 pushed him, to make him move. He got up from 
 the stool in a huff, and she took his place at the 
 piano without missing a note with her voice. This 
 put the finishing touch to Pietro's indignation and 
 resentment. 
 
 "Play your old exercises yourself," he snarled. 
 "And the next time you want me to play them, ask 
 me, that's all." 
 
 He marched away to his studio and slammed
 
 'PLAY YOUR OLD EXERCISES YOURSELF "-Page
 
 THE CLIMAX 249 
 
 the door after him, making Luigi almost swallow 
 
 his cigarette and causing him to jump up and shout 
 
 after his son : 
 
 "What you bang the door so hard for, Pietro?" 
 But Pietro was too furious to answer, even if 
 
 he heard. Adelina kept on with her exercises.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 " 'How dost thou like this tune?' 
 'It gives a very echo to the seat 
 Where love is throned.' " 
 
 Angry and turbulent were John Raymond's 
 thoughts as he went away from the Golfanti house 
 hold after Adelina's lyrical love-making to Luigi. 
 The performance had been extremely distasteful to 
 him. He hated anything that suggested theatrical- 
 ism, and she had been theatrical to a greater degree 
 than he had supposed would be possible to her. 
 It never had struck him so forcibly before that she 
 was completely possessed by what is called the 
 dramatic temperament. He admitted to himself, 
 with a shudder, that she had gone through the im 
 promptu sccna with a convincing skill worthy of a 
 cantatrice before the footlights. He knew some 
 thing about it too, for, prejudiced as he was against 
 the stage, he had held until he learned of Ade 
 lina's ambition to become a prima donna that the 
 opera was somehow different from and better than 
 all other stage entertainment. So he had once at 
 tended a presentation of "Rigoletto" in Cincinnati, 
 
 250
 
 THE CLIMAX 251 
 
 and he remembered what it had all been like. Of 
 course, Adelina had heard, through her father and 
 Luigi, of her mother's stage methods, and though 
 she Hever had seen a performance of grand opera 
 in her life, her vivid imagination could picture it, 
 and she knew the stage "business" of every part her 
 mother had played. 
 
 John Raymond tormented himself about Ade 
 lina more than might have been expected of so 
 generally sensible a young man, and certainly he 
 did not attain by his worrying anything valuable. 
 He thought about her during his hours at the hos 
 pital ; as he sat alone in his hotel room in the early 
 evening, trying to absorb a newly-published and 
 much-talked-of treatise on psychophysics ; as, later, 
 he walked about the ghostly, deserted streets of the 
 "financial district," far down town, and afterward, 
 in bed, when he should have been asleep. He was 
 busy with a knotty tangle, but the knots were 
 drawn tight, and ever eluded him. 
 
 It was little wonder, then, that Doctor Ray 
 mond looked haggard and worn when he entered 
 the Golfanti apartment at half-past two o'clock on 
 the day that Doctor King was to be consulted. He 
 was pleased when Adelina came forward and took 
 his hand, as if she had not noticed or had forgotten 
 his abrupt departure on Tuesday evening. Already
 
 252 THE CLIMAX 
 
 she had her hat on, and he liked that, too, because 
 it indicated that she knew he would be on time. 
 Perhaps that was not her idea, but he assumed it 
 was, which was equally satisfactory to him. Pie- 
 tro at the piano, as usual arose and bowed 
 stiffly, then sat down again. 
 
 "Hello, Doctor !" hailed Luigi, coming from his 
 bedroom, his soft hat in his hand. "We're all ready. 
 Pietro he want to go, too, but Anton Rubinstein 
 come, and he must have his lesson." 
 
 Raymond was relieved to hear this, for he 
 would have objected decidedly to taking Pietro 
 with them. One savage look at the irascible Doc 
 tor King, such as Pietro would be sure to shoot in 
 his direction as soon as he touched Adelina would 
 cause an explosion, and probably result finally in 
 the doctor's refusal to look at the throat at all. 
 
 "We'd better start," said Raymond. "Doctor 
 King's office is in Thirty-fifth street, and it will 
 take us nearly half an hour to get there. I saw him 
 at the hospital this morning, and he warned me 
 not to be late. He is too busy to tolerate unpunc- 
 tuality." 
 
 "There's that Anton Rubinstein now," grum 
 bled Pietro, jumping up from his stool as he heard 
 a bell tinkle on the outside door of the studio. 
 
 Before Luigi, Adelina and Raymond could
 
 THE CLIMAX 253 
 
 leave the room Pietro came back from the studio 
 with a dirty scrap of letter-paper .in his fingers. 
 
 ''What that, Pietro?" asked his father. 
 
 "A note from Mrs. Rubinstein. I can't read 
 it." 
 
 "Why not?" demanded his father, taking the 
 paper from him. Then, as he looked at it, he con 
 tinued: "I see. It's Deutsch. Read it for us, Ade- 
 lina." 
 
 "My German is useful sometimes, you see, 
 Jack," she laughed, as she glanced over the note 
 and read : ''' 'Mem mann hat das geklimper schon 
 gans satt. Bitte lernen unseren Anton den Merry 
 Widow Waltz spielen.' " 
 
 "What a twister, eh, Doctor?" said Luigi, with 
 a wry face. "What it mean in Italian?" 
 
 "I'd better translate it into English, I think, 
 Uncle," replied Adelina. "Mrs. Rubinstein wants 
 her son to learn the 'Merry Widow Waltz.' That's 
 all." 
 
 "He may learn it in the course of ten years, 
 if he studies hard," growled Pietro, as he took back 
 the note. "To think that I am called on to degrade 
 myself, my music, my art, to knock the 'Merry 
 Widow' waltz into that thick head. One, two, 
 three one, two, three." 
 
 "You and teach him, Pietro, and not be
 
 254 THE CLIMAX 
 
 foolish," admonished Luigi, sharply. "His father 
 a good tailor, and he work for us cheap. Besides, 
 he pay fifty cents each for that boy's lesson. And 
 we need the money," he added, after a pause. 
 
 "Bah! Blood money!" ejaculated poor Pietro, 
 bouncing into the studio in a frame of mind that 
 boded a stormy forty-five minutes for Anton. 
 
 "That boy of mine he have the artistic temper 
 ament all right," observed Luigi, looking thought 
 fully at the studio door. 
 
 Luigi repeated the observation afterward, as 
 he, Adelina and Raymond rode toward Doctor 
 King's office in a Broadway car. 
 
 "He has, indeed," agreed Adelina, with rather 
 more enthusiasm than Raymond thought necessary. 
 "His 'Song of a Soul' is beautiful. He has not 
 quite finished it, but there is enough to show what 
 it will be." 
 
 "Did he write words for it, too?" asked Ray 
 mond. 
 
 "No. Mrs. Vittorio did that, and they fit the 
 music beautifully." 
 
 "I thought perhaps Pietro had produced the 
 lyric, as well as the music. He seems to be a sort 
 of Admirable Crichton." 
 
 Adelina's quick look of surprise at John Ray 
 mond as he made this rather envious speech did not
 
 THE CLIMAX 255 
 
 escape him, and he knew that she considered it un 
 worthy of him. 
 
 There was no loss of time when once they 
 were in Doctor King's consulting-room. It was 
 striking three as he told Adelina to take her hat off 
 and sit down in one of those luxurious, leather- 
 cushioned operating chairs which mock the terror- 
 stricken patient by giving ease to the body while 
 the mind is in torment. A lamp with a powerful 
 reflector was attached by a movable nickel-plated 
 bracket to one arm of the chair, and Doctor King 
 adjusted it so that the light almost blinded her. 
 He placed a round mirror with a hole in the centre 
 on his forehead, by means of a strap that passed 
 around his head. Then he gave her a touch of nau 
 sea by sinking the chair-seat unexpectedly a few 
 inches by means of a lever at the back which he 
 worked with his foot. 
 
 "Comfortable?" he asked, grimly. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, while her heart beat so 
 loudly that she believed she could hear it. 
 
 "Keep quiet, then." 
 
 He thrust a glistening instrument, like a minia 
 ture metal golf club, into her mouth and looked. 
 Adertna felt as if she were choking, but that did not 
 disturb Doctor King. 
 
 On the mantelpiece was an uncompromising
 
 256 THE CLIMAX 
 
 square clock of black marble. John Raymond, 
 Luigi and Adelina counted every second as it was 
 ticked off in a deep, lugubrious monotone. The 
 stern old doctor was taking no notice of the clock. 
 His attention was concentrated on the delicate or 
 gan in her throat, upon which the strong reflector 
 sent a point of white light. 
 
 Nearly a minute elapsed before he took away 
 the instrument with which he had been holding 
 down her tongue, and told her she might breathe 
 for a few minutes. 
 
 She had been breathing, in a way, but it was a 
 relief to be able to exercise her lungs to their full 
 capacity a dozen times, while Doctor King dipped 
 his golf club into some antiseptic liquid in a glass 
 and wiped it, as he regarded her with an expres 
 sion that gave no key to his thoughts. 
 
 "Now, again," he grunted, as he saw that she 
 had rested enough to bear a renewal of the ordeal. 
 
 Once more the mirror was adjusted, and he 
 forced down her tongue unconcernedly, as he di 
 rected his point of light here and there in her 
 throat. Luigi softly rubbed his hands, damp with 
 anxiety, one over the other, while John Raymond's 
 eyes never left the girl's face. When, at last, Doc 
 tor King moved back for the second time, allowing
 
 THE CLIMAX 257 
 
 Adelina to breathe at will, it was to John Raymond 
 that he spoke. 
 
 "Doctor," he said, "I find" 
 
 The two physicians moved away to the win 
 dow, and the rest of the sentence was inaudible to 
 Adelina and Luigi. They could see that the older 
 man was explaining something to the other, who 
 nodded from time to time, but without showing 
 either elation or dismay in his calm professional 
 face. 
 
 "Doctor King finds that a slight operation is 
 required," Raymond told them, as the consultation 
 ended. "He has explained to me the nature of 
 the ailment, but it would be difficult to convey it to 
 you in untechnical terms. I should strongly advise 
 that the operation be performed at once. Doctor 
 King is willing to do it, and he says it will be all 
 over in less than ten minutes. It will not be at all 
 painful, Adelina. A local anaesthetic will prevent 
 your feeling it at all. 
 
 "I am not afraid of a little pain," declared Ade 
 lina. 
 
 "There is one thing we must not forget to tell 
 the young lady," interposed Doctor King, "and that 
 is that she must not speak for a week afterward 
 not a word." 
 
 "That will be a test of feminine endurance, in-
 
 258 THE CLIMAX 
 
 deed," said Adelina, smiling. "But I shall be equal 
 to it, I hope." 
 
 "Then I'll go ahead," was the short response of 
 the surgeon. "Let me show you, Doctor." 
 
 Thrusting his instrument into Adelina's mouth 
 in the casual manner of an entomologist exhibiting 
 an impaled butterfly in a cabinet to some fellow- 
 collector, Doctor King requested Raymond to look. 
 
 "See it, Doctor?" he asked, focussing the re 
 flected light on the spot where he had found the 
 defect. 
 
 "Yes," answered Raymond, coolly. 
 
 "Very well. That is what I am going to treat," 
 announced the specialist, spraying cocaine into 
 Adelina's throat with as much indifference to her 
 opinion of it as if he had been sprinkling a lawn. 
 
 "I suppose, Doctor," put in Luigi, anxiously, 
 "there is no doubt that the operation will be a suc 
 cess?" 
 
 "Not much doubt about one in a thousand, I 
 should say," replied Doctor King, carelessly, over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 As he had promised, the operation was com 
 pleted within ten minutes, and half an hour after 
 ward, Adelina, with a handkerchief held to her 
 mouth to keep out the cold, sat between John Ray 
 mond and Luigi on a car, going home. Pietro was
 
 THE CLIMAX 259 
 
 at the front door when they reached the house, and 
 his anxiety made him forget his usual coldness to 
 Raymond. He was glad to see them back, with 
 Adelina looking none the worse for her experi 
 ence. 
 
 "Did it hurt you, Adelina?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 "Adelina not allowed to speak. Don't ask fool 
 question, Pietro," commanded his father. 
 
 "She must not use her vocal cords in any way 
 for seren days," explained Raymond. "They must 
 have a little time to recover from the shock that is 
 unavoidable even with such a slight operation as 
 this has been. I shall look at the throat every day, 
 to make sure there are no complications." 
 
 "You not expect there will be those what you 
 call?" 
 
 "Complications? No, Signer Golfanti. I do 
 not. But there is always the possibility. That is 
 why I shall examine the throat daily until the week 
 has expired." 
 
 They had been going up stairs while talking, 
 and as they got to the big room, Adelina, throwing 
 off her hat, dropped upon the piano-stool and be 
 gan fingering the keys. 
 
 "I would not play, if I were you, Addie. You 
 might forget yourself and begin to sing," warned 
 Raymond.
 
 260 THE CLIMAX 
 
 She arose obediently, while Pietro secretly 
 execrated the insolence of this doctor from Ohio, 
 who took it on himself to tell her what she must and 
 must not do. Like most persons in love, especially 
 when they have little hope of their passion ever 
 being" returned, he was ready to quarrel with any 
 hint of proprietorship by another. 
 
 "I will come in to-morrow evening, and look 
 at the throat," continued Raymond. "After all, a 
 week is not long." 
 
 "Isn't it? If you were a woman, you might 
 have a different opinion, Doctor," remarked Luigi. 
 with a chuckle. "I have been married, and I never 
 knew my wife to keep her tongue still for a week 
 in all her life." 
 
 It was hard for Adelina not to sing, or even to 
 speak. She had found that out already, in just the 
 short time that she had been home from the doc 
 tor's. But with a clenching of her teeth, she put 
 the almost irresistible impulse to use her voice be 
 hind her, and when John Raymond went out, his 
 last glimpse of her was as she began her prepara 
 tions for supper with all her usual cheerfulness. 
 
 That evening, when Luigi had settled down, 
 with a cigarette, to read his paper, and Adelina, at 
 the other side of the table, was sewing, Pietro es 
 tablished himself at the piano, resolved to complete
 
 THE CLIMAX 261 
 
 the melody which had first come to him as a frag 
 ment in that dewy wood in Azalia, and to which 
 he had since given the title of "The Song of a Soul," 
 at this one sitting, or know the reason why. 
 
 "This is an awfully bum light," he complained, 
 as he fiddled with the lamp on the piano. "But I 
 don't care for that if I can get this music the way 
 I want it." 
 
 With a pencil in his mouth save when he was 
 using it to jot down or alter a note on the music- 
 paper in front of him Pietro ran off vagrant 
 strains, with runs, chords and rippling arpeggios as 
 accompaniment. Adelina listened intently, and 
 Luigi, looking up from his paper now and then, 
 gave sympathetic ear to the efforts of his son. It 
 was hard work. Anyone could see that, as Pietro 
 repeatedly snatched the pencil from his lips, hastily 
 put down a few notes, and then, after trying the 
 measure for a second time, scratched them out and 
 put down others. It seemed as if it never would 
 come right. 
 
 "I hope you won't bust the piano with your 
 'Song of a Soul,' Pietro," said Luigi, when his son, 
 after a long run, thundered a bass chord which 
 threatened such a catastrophe. 
 
 "Don't talk to me just now, father," pleaded 
 Pietro, piteously. "I almost had it then."
 
 262 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "What you think of it, Adelina?" asked Luigi. 
 
 She had placed a small pad of white paper on 
 the table before her, with a pencil. She pointed to 
 her mouth, to remind him that she must not speak, 
 and wrote on the pad: "He will get it, and I shall 
 sing it when I am allowed to use my voice." 
 
 She tore off the top sheet and handed it to 
 Luigi, who was so delighted that he had to carry 
 it around to the piano to show to Pietro, who turned 
 to look gratefully at Adelina ere he resumed his 
 composing. 
 
 "I believe he'll get it, Adelina. You are right," 
 was Luigi's own comment, as he returned to his 
 chair and newspaper. 
 
 Adelina sewed on, and Pietro, squaring his 
 shoulders, as if for a supreme effort, played again 
 the melody he had sent to her in Azalia, but which 
 was still only the "fragment" he had called it then. 
 He had written more, but nothing that he could do 
 now seemed to be in the same spirit, and he had 
 wondered whether the original was some fugitive 
 inspiration which he never would be able to catch 
 again. 
 
 "I'll read over all the words," he said to him 
 self. "Perhaps that will help me.. Let me see. 
 Where are they? Oh, yes. Here!" 
 
 He dug up a sheet of paper from a mass of
 
 THE CLIMAX 263 
 
 music on a low stand by his side, and read aloud 
 from it the stanza which had been written for him 
 by Mrs. Vittorio, as follows: 
 
 " 'Every soul hath its song 
 
 Its melody divine, 
 Rising to ecstasy, 
 
 And so hath mine. 
 Just let me sing my song divine, 
 
 Or I shall die of sorrow.' " 
 
 "What that, Pietro?" questioned Luigi, who 
 had been listening. 
 
 "The 'Song of a Soul/ confound it!" was the 
 short reply. 
 
 "It seems to confound you, Pietro that 'Song" 
 of a Soul,' " observed Luigi. "But keep on. Don't 
 give up. Writing music is like making a horse 
 shoe. It's the steady hammering that tells." 
 
 "Horse-shoe!" growled Pietro. "And you a 
 musician!" 
 
 He kept on, alternately playing and writing, 
 for another half-hour, while Luigi and Adelina pur 
 sued their respective occupations in silence, both 
 listening to the young man's struggle for the strains 
 he wanted. Suddenly, as he finished writing 
 rapidly, with nervous fingers, several measures, he
 
 264 THE CLIMAX 
 
 waved his pencil over his head, and shouted, ex 
 ultantly : 
 
 "I have it! I have it! Oh! Adelina! If only 
 you could sing it!" 
 
 She ran to him and leaned over his shoulder, 
 scanning what he had written. Then she pointed 
 to the piano-keys and to him, telling him, mutely, 
 to play it for her. 
 
 "Play it all through, Pietro," called out Luigi, 
 from his place at the other side of the table. "Let's 
 hear what you have done. Play it, my son." 
 
 Willingly enough, Pietro obeyed. His prac 
 ticed fingers swept the keys, and the completion of 
 the melody he had sought so long ever since that 
 fragrant morning in Azalia, when the birds and the 
 whispering leaves gave him the first haunting 
 strains rang out in a wild burst of harmonic pas 
 sion. "The Song of a Soul" was born.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 * Tis good tho' music oft hath such a charm, 
 To make bad good ; and good provoke to harm." 
 
 It did not seem such a very long week, after 
 all, notwithstanding a popular impression that no 
 woman could hold her tongue for that period of 
 time unless she was gagged. Adelina did not mind 
 it much. She always had her pencil and little pad 
 of paper when she wanted to communicate with 
 Luigi or Pietro, and she never forgot that she must 
 not speak. For hours she was alone, while they 
 were away, visiting their pupils, and during their 
 absence the pianos were always closed, lest she 
 might inadvertently sit down to sing. This appre 
 hension was more Luigi's than her own. Her great 
 ambition was ever in her mind. Had she been con 
 tent to be an ordinarily good singer, the operation 
 on her throat would not have been necessary. But 
 she had resolved to become as famous as her 
 mother, if her natural gifts would permit, and to 
 enable her to reach the heights on which she had 
 set her hopes she would have gone through a 
 great deal more inconvenience than she had been 
 
 265
 
 266 THE CLIMAX 
 
 subjected to in Doctor King's chair. It was, then, 
 extremely improbable that she would be careless in 
 carrying out the instructions on the fulfilment of 
 which the ultimate success of the treatment might 
 depend. 
 
 She never even spoke, much less sang. It was 
 not difficult. She knew the deaf-and-dumb alpha 
 bet, and she found plenty of people tradesmen and 
 others with whom she could communicate by this 
 means. She taught it to Pietro one evening, to 
 divert his mind when he was trying more persist 
 ently than usual to make love to her. Not that it 
 helped matters much. He learned the deaf-mute 
 language quickly, but used it generally to get on 
 the old tiresome topic of his adoration, until she 
 wished she had not given him this new way of 
 annoying her. So she told him, on her pad of 
 paper, that if he knew how idiotically absurd he 
 looked trying to be sentimental with his fingers, he 
 never would do it again. After that he addressed 
 her only on the pad. Then she pretended she could 
 not read his writing. But his heart-broken look 
 was too much for her, and she was obliged to re 
 lent, telling him that his penmanship was bad only 
 when he scrawled too hurriedly. All this amused 
 her and helped to pass the time, and the days flew 
 by faster than she had hoped.
 
 THE CLIMAX 267 
 
 John Raymond came every evening and made 
 a professional examination. On the third day of 
 the week he brought, in a black-leather bag, the 
 necessary apparatus for spraying her throat with a 
 mixture prepared by Doctor King with his own 
 hands, and in which Raymond had the greatest of 
 faith. There was also a circular reflector, to be 
 strapped on the forehead, such as Doctor King had 
 used, and a smaller one, of peculiar shape, which 
 Raymond called a "throat-mirror." 
 
 "You are not going to perform another opera 
 tion, eh?" asked Luigi, somewhat fearfully, as he 
 saw these ominous articles. 
 
 "No, unless you call spraying the throat an 
 operation. It's as painless as taking a glass of 
 water," replied Raymond. 
 
 He used the spray then and every day there 
 after, and as Adelina never complained, Luigi pre 
 tended to be satisfied. 
 
 So the week dragged along, day by day, until 
 the evening on which Adelina was to be allowed to 
 speak and to sing. It had seemed like a month to 
 the girl. The original intention had been that she 
 should go to Doctor King's office at the end of the 
 week. But four days after he had performed the 
 operation a cable message summoned him to Ber 
 lin as consulting surgeon in a difficult and im-
 
 268 THE CLIMAX 
 
 portant case, the patient being a royal personage. 
 So it happened that he was on the high seas, in one 
 of the new five-day "greyhounds," when the time 
 came to restore Adelina to speech. Before depart 
 ing, however, he had entrusted her case to Doctor 
 Raymond, giving him instructions in writing. 
 
 "That's the way with doctors," grumbled Pie- 
 tro, on the arrival of the important seventh day, 
 when Raymond explained this to them all. "They 
 don't care what becomes of their patients. They 
 just go away and leave them to die. It's murder. 
 That's what I call it." 
 
 Luigi was shocked at this language in the 
 presence of Raymond. 
 
 "What you mean, Pietro? What you know? 
 Nothing. A doctor he have to go away when he 
 sent for, same as you or me. Doctor King he gen 
 tleman. Doctor Raymond know all about Adelina, 
 and he take care of her. Besides, there is nothing 
 the matter with her. All she have to do is talk. 
 Doctor Raymond can hear her do that as well as 
 Doctor King. You ask pardon of Doctor Raymond. 
 You must, when you insult a gentleman." 
 
 "I didn't mean to insult Doctor Raymond or 
 anyone else," protested Pietro, humbly. "I am 
 anxious for Adelina, that's all. So is Doctor Ray 
 mond, I know. I apologize, of course."
 
 THE CLIMAX 269 
 
 John Raymond waved his hand and laughed 
 good-humoredly. 
 
 "Don't mention it, Pietro. I know your solici 
 tude for Adelina's welfare. We are all anxious to 
 be assured that she has quite recovered. We shall 
 soon know." 
 
 "In ten minutes, eh?" asked Luigi. 
 
 "Hardly so soon as that," corrected Raymond. 
 "But I will make an examination and see what it 
 looks like. My instructions from Doctor King are 
 explicit. I have them here." 
 
 He took from his note-book a small sheet of 
 paper and read from it aloud : 
 
 "Examine the throat. If there are no signs of 
 inflammation, spray it, and the patient may speak. 
 After five minutes, spray the throat again. If 
 everything is all right, the voice should be clearer 
 and stronger than ever." 
 
 "If everything is all right?" snapped Pietro. 
 "Why, there isn't any doubt of that, is there, Doc 
 tor Raymond?" 
 
 "Of course not," interposed Luigi, with convic 
 tion. "Don't be fool, Pietro. Doctor King he 
 say on that paper the voice will be clearer and 
 stronger than ever." 
 
 "He said it should be," Raymond reminded him. 
 
 "All the same thing. It will be. I know the
 
 2 ;o THE CLIMAX 
 
 voice. Have I not trained it for weeks? It is splen 
 did. Magnificent ! It have always been so ! The 
 trifle uneven quality I speak to you about, that is 
 nothing. She would have been great singer if that 
 unevenness been left alone. Now, if it not any bet 
 ter, she still be able to sing." 
 
 "Yes," said Raymond, slowly. "But it is well 
 always to be prepared for disappointment. Doctor 
 King told me there was one chance in a thousand 
 that her voice would fail altogether if it were not 
 improved." 
 
 "What? Do you mean that she might not be 
 able to sing at all?" almost shrieked Pietro. 
 
 "Hush, Pietro. Don't be a fool," commanded 
 Luigi. "One chance in thousand, he said. Well, 
 what that? Nothing. Doctor King he say that it 
 might fail only to mean it couldn't be. Eh, Doc 
 tor?" 
 
 "There is nothing absolutely sure in surgery. 
 That's what he meant, I think," answered Ray 
 mond. "Still, Doctor King is one of the most emi 
 nent throat specialists in the world. You can see 
 that is so, or he would not have been called to Ger 
 many now. How does the throat feel, Adelina?" 
 
 She was about to speak, but Raymond raised 
 his hand warningly, and she smiled an apology. 
 
 "Write it," he directed.
 
 THE CLIMAX 271 
 
 She wrote the word "Dry" on her pad. 
 
 "Dry, eh? Well, we'll look at it and see." 
 
 It was with even more tenderness than usual 
 that John Raymond placed her in a chair by the 
 table, and then took Pietro's lamp from the piano, 
 to supplement the light of that on the table. 
 
 "Will you hold this lamp, Signor?" 
 
 "Si. Where I stand vwth it?" 
 
 "I will show you," answered Raymond, as he 
 put on his forehead-reflector and raised the girl's 
 chin, so that he could look straight into her mouth. 
 
 "I am glad the time have come for her to speak 
 and sing," remarked Luigi who found it hard to 
 keep his tongue quiet. "She have good news yes 
 terday. Signor Antonio Valeri. I sing with him 
 long time ago. He sing with Adelina's mother, too. 
 Now he impresario. He make Aclelina sing for him 
 one day before she go to Doctor King and he say 
 he take her in his company to Havana and South 
 America. It good engagement." 
 
 "So I should think." 
 
 Raymond said this so composedly that Adelina 
 looked surprised, and then relieved. She had half 
 feared some outburst. But he was carefully ar 
 ranging the reflector on his forehead with one hand, 
 while he used the other to guide Luigi with the 
 lamp. He seemed to be simply the steady-pulsed
 
 272 THE CLIMAX 
 
 surgeon, deep in the delicate work he had to do, 
 and nothing else. But just then his hand chanced 
 to touch her cheek, and she felt his fingers icy cold. 
 He sprayed her throat, and, laying the atomizer on 
 the table, took out his watch. 
 
 "You can put the lamp down, Signer. We 
 have to wait five minutes." 
 
 But Luigi would not put the lamp out of his 
 hand. 
 
 "No. I hold it," he insisted. "Isn't it grand 
 for Adelina she go with Signer Valeri? She always 
 want to go on the stage. She will have only small 
 parts in Havana. But when she go to South Amer 
 ica she sing Leonora, Carmen, Margherita, Am- 
 neris and Elsa and Brunhilda, if Valeri put on 
 Wagner opera." 
 
 Adelina looked appealingly at Luigi, but he did 
 not understand that her glance conveyed a prayer 
 to him to change the subject. He thought she was 
 only deprecating his boastful tone on her behalf. 
 
 "I tell the truth, Adelina," he went on, with 
 well-intentioned obstinacy. "You can sing Wag 
 ner. Brunhilda's music is always heavy, but you 
 will sing the Wagner roles, like you sing Italian. 
 Your voice always have power. It will be the 
 more strong now. Ah! We all will be proud of 
 you when the audience jump and yell with joy,
 
 THE CLIMAX 273 
 
 and throw the flowers, and the jewels from women's 
 necks and arms, and Oh ! I have seen it with your 
 mother many times, and it will be so with you. 
 Won't it, Doctor?" 
 
 "It must be tiresome to hold that lamp, Sig- 
 nor. We have three minutes yet," said Raymond, 
 his eyes on his watch. 
 
 "No I like to do it. When Adelina she go 
 
 away, I go with her. I shall be stage manager of 
 the company. Signor Valeri he like me." 
 
 "And I have to remain behind, alone," com 
 plained Pietro. 
 
 John Raymond glanced swiftly at Adelina, but 
 she showed no concern that Pietro would not be 
 with her if she left New York. At least, he need 
 fear no rival in this ill-tempered boy. 
 
 "The five minutes are up," he announced at 
 last, as he put the watch in his pocket. "I will use 
 the spray again. The light, please, Signor." 
 
 Adelina had not spoken yet. Raymond had 
 thought it better for her to keep silence until he 
 had sprayed the throat a second time. So, as he 
 had not told her she could speak, she had not done 
 so. She had kept quiet for a week, and five minutes 
 more would not matter, she reflected. He used the 
 spray and then said, quietly: 
 
 "You may speak now."
 
 274 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 They were her first words for a week, and 
 surely an expression of gratitude to the young doc 
 tor who had tried to give her all the benefit that 
 science had at its command was the most grace 
 ful thing that could have come from her lips at 
 such a tmie. 
 
 "When she sing?" eagerly inquired Luigi. 
 
 "I think it would be advisable for her to wait 
 five minutes or so," was Raymond's answer. "Doc 
 tor King's instructions say that she may sing as 
 soon as the throat has been sprayed the second time 
 if everything is all right. But it can do no harm 
 to put off the test for a few minutes." 
 
 "Very well. I'll wait," said Adelina, resign 
 edly. "But I am so anxious to try my new voice." 
 
 "So. It will be a new voice," chirped Luigi. 
 "A fine voice! A great voice! Eh, Doctor?" 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 John Raymond walked to the window and 
 gazed out listlessly. The sun had been gone for 
 two hours, and the dark street, dolefully illumined 
 here and there by flickering gas-jets in the mean 
 little stores, and by a street-lamp at the corner 
 where the saloon was driving its usual brisk even 
 ing trade, was not inspiriting. A group of boys 
 stood outside the grocery, talking noisily. They
 
 THE CLIMAX 275 
 
 were planning a warlike visit to a rival "gang" in 
 the next street, and their strident cries came up to 
 him in a depressing cacophony. Rubinstein, the 
 tailor, was sewing, in his favorite froglike attitude, 
 in his shop-window. A woman was coming up the 
 cellar steps below Rubinstein, with a ten-cent 
 bucket of coal, and a laboring man, in muddy trous 
 ers, fissured shoes and a blue flannel shirt, carried 
 along the street a tin pail containing beer, his grimy 
 face wearing the anticipatory convivial expression 
 common to his kind when "rushing the growler." 
 
 An itinerant candy merchant, with many-col 
 ored cheap confections in separate compartments 
 of his flat push-cart the whole carefully covered by 
 glass, to protect its contents from marauding 
 youngsters came swiftly down the thoroughfare, 
 having been chased off Sixth avenue by a police 
 man. The roar of a passing train on the elevated 
 railway mingled momentarily with the other 
 sounds, dying away grumblingly as rapidly as it 
 had obtruded itself. 
 
 A maple tree, stunted, but sturdy in spite of 
 its being cramped in a narrow yard at the side of 
 the saloon, shook a shower of yellow leaves, like a 
 benison, on the black roof of an old shed so dilapi 
 dated that It looked as if it might crumple into 
 ruins under their weight. The yard was called by
 
 276 THE CLIMAX 
 
 the saloon-keeper a "summer garden," and even on 
 this rather chilly autumn evening a man and woman 
 were hobnobbing there in maudlin converse over 
 "schooners" of beer. 
 
 John Raymond could have described every de 
 tail of the sordid panorama a week, a month, or a 
 year afterward, but at this time he did not know 
 that he had seen anything of it. He was think 
 ing of something else. If Adelina should find 
 that her voice had become all that she and Luigi 
 hoped, what would she do? It was a question 
 already answered. She would join this opera com 
 pany, with Signer Valeri, and go out of his life en 
 tirely. Once let her feel the glamor of the stage, 
 and how hopeless it all would be for him. He 
 never doubted that she would be a popular singer 
 perhaps a great one. The same public that had made 
 an idol of her mother (the same in the abstract, al 
 though different in its actual individuality), would 
 welcome her. The incense of applause would be in 
 her nostrils and poison her. Yes, he was sure that 
 that would be its effect. She could not be of the 
 stage and remain the sweet, pure girl he had 
 kno\vn. It never struck him that he might be mis 
 taken in his estimate of stage people as a class. He 
 would have denied indignantly that he was preju 
 diced. Azalia regarded all "play-actors" as irre-
 
 THE CLIMAX 277 
 
 sponsible ne'er-do-wells. He had heard his father 
 say, more than once, that they were "naturally the 
 children of Beelzebub." The Azalia point of view 
 was his own, plus the unreasoning abhorrence of 
 the theatre he had inherited from his father. Add 
 to all this the fact that John Raymond was madly 
 in love with Adelina Von Hagen, and it was no 
 wonder his thoughts were agonizing as he stood at 
 this window, looking out upon the dark street. But 
 could he not prevent the sacrifice? Was it not 
 possible for him, as a doctor and a student of ad 
 vanced metaphysics, to interpose some influence 
 which would save her, in spite of herself? Could 
 he not, perhaps, employ the mental suggestion at 
 which she had scoffed, to " 
 
 "Jack, aren't the five minutes up?" 
 It was Adelina who had interrupted his reverie. 
 "Yes," he answered. "You may try to sing 
 now."
 
 "Nought but a blank remains, a dead, void space, 
 A step of life that promised such a race." 
 
 Adelina started when John Raymond came 
 from the shadows at the window into the light of 
 the lamp which had been replaced on the piano by 
 Pietro. His face had changed in some strange way. 
 It was drawn and white, and the fixed glare in his 
 eyes frightened her. He walked with a slow, me 
 chanical step, and she saw that his hand shook as 
 it rested on the top of the piano. 
 
 She had been chilled by his hollow tone, 
 when, at the window, he had told her she might try 
 to sing. It had not expressed the hopefulness she 
 had expected. Yet she was sure he was as anxious 
 to hear what effect the operation had had upon her 
 voice as were Luigi and Pietro. No doubt it was 
 that anxiety which had affected him. He felt the 
 responsibility, of course. It was he who had ad 
 vised the operation, and he had been in charge of 
 her, as a medical man, since Doctor King had gone 
 away. 
 
 Adelina never had been a doctor, but she could 
 278
 
 THE CLIMAX 279 
 
 understand what a strain it must be to feel that on 
 one's skill and care depended the life of a patient. 
 And singing was her life. No matter how strongly 
 opposed he might be to her going on the stage, 
 he would have to accept the inevitable. In the 
 meantime, his pride in his profession naturally 
 would outweigh all other considerations, and he 
 would rather see her adopt a career he disliked 
 than that his judgment as a physician should be 
 at fault. 
 
 These thoughts rushed through the girl's brain 
 so rapidly that Luigi hardly noticed how she stood 
 still for a few moments, looking over Pietro's 
 shoulder while he played the opening movement of 
 "The Song of a Soul." She seemed to be only 
 reading the notes on the music before her. Luigi 
 brought her to herself by asking: 
 
 "Adelina, are you ready?" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle." 
 
 "Bttono! Now we will hear. Doctor Ray 
 mond he want to know what the operation it do for 
 you, eh?" 
 
 "Yes. This is the critical moment," assented 
 Raymond, still in the hard tone in which he had an 
 swered Adelina when he stood at the window. 
 
 "Critical? It is not critical. We know what 
 she is going to do. We know that she will sing
 
 280 THE CLIMAX 
 
 better," rejoined Luigi, impatiently. "Sing, Ade- 
 lina." 
 
 "Very well. Uncle." 
 
 All the doubt had gone from her voice, and she 
 smiled at Raymond and Luigi alternately, as she 
 stood at the piano, ready to begin. 
 
 "Now, Pietro, your 'Song of a Soul.' I told you 
 I would sing it first." 
 
 The delight in Pietro's face made her glad she 
 had told him this. Although she cared nothing 
 about him in the way he would have liked, she 
 sympathized with him in his music. 
 
 "Here are the words," he said, fumbling among 
 the music on the stand beside him. "I have them 
 on a sheet of paper somewhere." 
 
 "Never mind finding it, Pietro," she cried. "I 
 know the lines backward. I've been learning them 
 for a week." Then, with a rapt expression on her 
 face that thrilled Pietro through and through, she 
 recited : " 'Just let me sing my song divine, or I 
 shall die of sorrow.' " 
 
 Raymond was gazing at her with a strange in- 
 tentness unlike any look she ever had seen on his 
 face in all the years they had known each other. It 
 was as if he were trying to grasp her inmost 
 thoughts, so that he might bend them to his will. 
 She strove to put aside this impression, as ridicu-
 
 THE CLIMAX 281 
 
 lous, but it came back, and it was only when she 
 resolutely looked away from him that she could 
 shake off the feeling of there being something un 
 canny and sinister in his regard. 
 
 "Jack," she broke forth, impulsively, "I want 
 to thank you for all you've done and are doing." 
 
 "Don't thank me, Addie," he answered, in a 
 strained, unsteady tone. 
 
 "But I must. I know it must be terribly hard 
 for you to do this, because, although it means ev 
 erything to me, my everything doesn't include you 
 except as my very good friend, Jack." 
 
 He took her two hands and looked intently into 
 her face, as he said, slowly: 
 
 "Addie, suppose that, after all, you couldn't?" 
 
 "What?" she asked, wonderingly. 
 
 But he waved his hand, with a smile, to sig 
 nify that it was nothing of any consequence, and 
 she turned to the piano as Pietro played the prelude 
 of the "Song of a Soul." 
 
 "Here! What are going to do?" broke in 
 Luigi, authoritatively. "You must not sing the 
 song at the beginning. First come the scales the 
 exercises, to warm up the vocal cords." 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Luigi!" protested Adelina. "I 
 promised Pietro his song should be the first."
 
 282 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Pouf! I say no. First come the exercise. 
 Pietro, the scale on page seventeen." 
 
 Argument would have been useless, as both 
 Adelina and Pietro well knew. So the young man 
 opened the exercise book at page seventeen and 
 struck a chord. 
 
 "Si. Now, sing," ordered Luigi. 
 
 John Raymond leaned over the piano, and his 
 strained look might have pierced her through had 
 it suddenly taken on material substance. It was 
 like a rapier. Perhaps, in his mentality, he was 
 using it as such a weapon. Adelina did not even 
 glance toward him, but she was conscious of his 
 steady gaze how, she could not have explained. 
 She only knew it was there. Luigi saw it, but he 
 attributed it to nervous anxiety. He had that feel 
 ing himself. It would have been strange, indeed, 
 if Doctor Raymond had not evinced agitation in 
 some form or another. 
 
 Pietro sounded the chord again, and then ran 
 an ascending octave. The girl sang the first note, 
 missed the next six, but ended clear and full on the 
 last. 
 
 "That is well," said Luigi. "The tone is fine. 
 Now run the scale." 
 
 "I was trying to do so," answered Adelina,
 
 THE CLIMAX 283 
 
 with a smile. "The week of idleness has put me 
 
 out of practice." 
 
 John Raymond's eyelids nearly closed, so that 
 his eyes were two narrow slits, glistening in the 
 light of the lamp like those of a wolf about to 
 spring. 
 
 "You did not take the breath, Adelina," sug 
 gested Luigi. "Remember what I always tell you, 
 that you cannot get the tone without the wind. 
 Now ! Again !" 
 
 She tried, but this time her failure was not to 
 be mistaken. She could not even sound the final 
 note, and, with a pale and frightened face, she 
 turned to Luigi, as if for help, gasping: 
 
 "Uncle, I can't sing. My throat seems to be 
 asleep." 
 
 Never did John Raymond's gaze remove itself 
 from her face. 
 
 "Your throat wake up directly. Play, Pietro, 
 play!" cried Luigi, his voice shrill with sudden ter 
 ror. "There must be some mistake. The doctor 
 he say the voice would be better than ever. Sing, 
 Adelina ! Play, Pietro !" 
 
 Once more did she make an effort that was 
 pitiful in its desperation, but Pietro, with the piano, 
 left her far behind. Her ear was true, and she knew 
 what she was trying to do. But her vocal organs
 
 284 THE CLIMAX 
 
 seemed to be paralyzed, and all they would produce 
 were a few feeble sounds that shocked her as much 
 as they did her horrified teacher and Pietro. 
 
 "Adelina, what is the matter?" shrieked Luigi. 
 
 "I don't know, Uncle," she moaned. 
 
 "Try again," urged Pietro. "Once more." 
 
 But Adelina only shook her head. 
 
 Luigi walked upon and down, holding his head 
 in his hands, while Adelina, like a statue of hope 
 less grief, stood, with parted lips, looking wildly at 
 the exercise, wondering what it all meant. She had 
 not realized the awfulness of it yet. Luigi stopped 
 in front of Raymond, who had never moved since 
 Adelina began to sing, and still glared at her as if 
 he could not look away. 
 
 "Doctor Raymond, can't you do something? 
 Spray the throat again. Here! I get the things," 
 cried Luigi, desperately. 
 
 The heartbroken old man ran to the table, 
 where the black bag, containing the apparatus, still 
 stood, and had taken out the atomizer and reflector 
 before Raymond said to him, in pitying, but hope 
 less accents : 
 
 "It would do no good. You remember, Doctor 
 King said that there was one chance in a thousand 
 of the voice being lost altogether as the result of 
 the operation. One in a thousand."
 
 "ONE IN A THOUSAND." Page
 
 THE CLIMAX 285 
 
 At last she comprehended. With a stifled 
 groan, as of some helpless creature of the forest 
 who had received a mortal blow, too severe to per 
 mit even of a full cry of pain, Adelina staggered 
 to a chair and with an elbow on the table, sat star 
 ing into vacancy. Pietro was by her side in an in 
 stant, she pushed him away, as she repeated, mur- 
 muringly, like one talking in sleep : 
 
 "One in a thousand 1 ! One in a thousand!" 
 For a few minutes she sat quite still. Pietro, 
 hurt that she would not let him attempt to console 
 her, was glowering at Raymond, who did not see it. 
 Raymond's eyes never left Adelina. He was watch 
 ing her with the sort of expression his face had worn 
 that morning in the hospital, as he contemplated a 
 patient afflicted with a rare and incurable disease. 
 He had been deeply interested in the case, and 
 while, as a humane man, he had observed with 
 commiseration the writhings which denoted awful 
 agony, he had not failed to recognize their value to 
 the physician as diagnostic manifestations. The 
 fact that the patient could not recover was only 
 a pathological incident. Perhaps he regarded Ade- 
 lina's incurableness with the same philosophical in 
 difference. And perhaps, if it had been possible to 
 probe to the bottom of his mind, as he stood there, 
 with his back to the piano, there might even have
 
 286 THE CLIMAX 
 
 been found satisfaction. It is doubtful whether 
 John Raymond, himself, could have told what his 
 feelings were just then. 
 
 Luigi had been at the window, looking out upon 
 the same sort of scene as had been presented to 
 John Raymond half an hour before, and, like the 
 doctor, he had not consciously seen anything. Now, 
 as a sudden thought came to him, he went over to 
 Adelina, and placing a hand soothingly on her 
 bowed head, he whispered : 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle?" 
 
 His sympathetic voice was the only thing that 
 could arouse her, and John Raymond noted it with 
 fierce jealousy. 
 
 "Don't give way, 'carissima. Your voice may 
 come back to-morrow. It is sometimes so. I have 
 known it with myself. On some night I could sing, 
 and others I could not. It will be so with you. Do 
 I not say right. Doctor?" 
 
 John Raymond shook his head decisively. 
 
 "In such a case as hers there is no hope. It 
 would be heartless in me to say anything but the 
 truth. Don't let her ever try to sing again. It 
 might cause her to lose even her speaking voice." 
 
 Luigi started in dismay. Then he stared into
 
 THE CLIMAX 287 
 
 the impassive countenance of the doctor, as if to 
 gather hope. But there was none there." 
 
 "Mustn't she try again?" he faltered. "J ust 
 once ?" 
 
 "She may try now, while I am here, if she 
 likes," replied Raymond. "Then, if any harm comes 
 from it, I shall be at hand. But don't let her sing 
 afterward. If she does, I can't answer for the con 
 sequences." 
 
 Rising from her chair suddenly, the girl went 
 toward Raymond, a wild, unnatural fire in her eye. 
 
 "Jack," she pleaded, "do something for me. 
 You're a doctor. Say something. Does this 
 
 mean " The words she would utter seemed to 
 
 be frozen in her throat. "Tell me. Am I the one in 
 the thousand?" 
 
 "Heaven help me, yes," answered Raymond, 
 in a scarcely audible voice. 
 
 "Heaven!" she cried, in an agony of despair, 
 "What is heaven? Why does the Omnipotent 
 Power which rules us punish me so? What have I 
 ever done to deserve this? Have I neglected my 
 talents? Have I sinned so grievously? Where is 
 the divine mercy? Is this it? One in a thousand! 
 I don't believe it! Play, Pietro, your 'Song of a 
 Soul' and my soul will sing it!" 
 
 Pietro played a few chords, and she essayed
 
 288 THE CLIMAX 
 
 to sing the melody, but in vain. She could only 
 speak the words. There seemed to be no power 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Every soul hath its song it's melody divine !" 
 she intoned, striving with all her might to reach 
 the notes as they were written. Then she gave it 
 up. 
 
 "I can't sing it now, Pietro. But I will start 
 all over again. I'll spend a lifetime in practice. 
 Yes, I'll start again." 
 
 She dropped into her chair, with that awful 
 look that had been on her face before. Luigi tried 
 once more to encourage her. 
 
 "Adelina, maybe the voice come back again 
 to-morrow next week. Yes. Eh, Doctor?" 
 
 "I don't know," answered Raymond. 
 
 "You do know," interrupted Adelina. "You do 
 know. You are trying to spare me, as you've been 
 doing ever since you looked into my throat. I 
 can't sing. It's all over everything." 
 
 "There are other things in life," hinted Ray 
 mond. 
 
 "Not for me," she moaned, with the positive- 
 ness of despair. 
 
 Luigi jerked his head significantly toward the 
 doo?, looking at Raymond, who walked to the side 
 table for his hat. He hesitated momentarily, as if
 
 THE CLIMAX 289 
 
 to go to Adelina to bid her good night. But she 
 never looked up although she must have known 
 that he was about to go and with a silent farewell 
 to Luigi, John Raymond went out. 
 
 Pietro had been mechanically straightening out 
 a pile of sheet-music, and seemed not to notice Ray 
 mond's departure. Luigi lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Does your throat feel different from what it 
 was before we went to Doctor King's, Adelina?" 
 asked Luigi, after a few seconds of reflective purl 
 ing. 
 
 "Yes, when I sing." 
 
 Her voice was hard and her eyes were quite 
 dry. 
 
 "Hum! When you sing? That's all that 
 counts." 
 
 Luigi waggled his doleful head, so that the gray 
 side locks fell over his eyes grotesquely, and he 
 choked on a mouthful of cigarette-smoke. 
 
 "Maladetta! I can't smoke, either," he mut 
 tered. "But I not go under any operation for that." 
 
 "What did you say, father?" asked Pietro, in 
 curiously, his hands busy with the sheet-music and 
 his thoughts on the pathetic girlish figure huddled 
 up at the table. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 An effect of the calamity was that they asked
 
 290 THE CLIMAX 
 
 and answered trivial questions without caring any 
 thing about them, or expecting an answer, as peo 
 ple will when there is death in the house. It was 
 a vent for their nervousness. Father and son both 
 were in such a strain that it seemed as if something 
 in them must break unless they found an outlet 
 for their sorrow in some way. So, when Luigi had 
 said "Nothing," he lighted another cigarette and 
 smoked voluminously through mouth and nose, 
 while Pietro resumed a hissing of the melody of 
 his "Song of a Soul" under his breath, which he 
 had been doing, unconsciously, ever since he had 
 begun to paw over his sheet-music. From Adelina 
 came not a sound. 
 
 "Is it dark outside?" asked Pietro, presently. 
 
 Luigi did not reply for nearly a minute, as if 
 he needed time to consider the answer to such a 
 tremendous query. Then he said, solemnly: 
 
 "Yes, except where the lamps are." 
 
 Neither noticed the fatuity of the question and 
 answer. Luigi lighted a fresh cigarette, and Pie 
 tro hissed "The Song of a Soul" from the begin 
 ning. 
 
 Suddenly, a great sob broke the stillness of the 
 room, followed by another and another, and then 
 the girl, raising her head from the table, covered
 
 THE CLIMAX 291 
 
 her face with her hands, and let the sobs storm 
 forth as they would. 
 
 Ah, those blessed tears! Adelina wept as if 
 her heart would rend apart. But there never can 
 be a broken heart where tears flow. Luigi Golfanti 
 knew this so well that he smiled as he walked 
 quietly over to his son, and, touching him on the 
 shoulder, said, in a low tone: 
 
 "She safe now, Pietro. Come. We go to bed."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "One indeed I knew 
 In many a subtle question versed, 
 Who touch'd a jarring lyre at first, 
 But ever strove to make it true." 
 
 As soon as John Raymond found himself alone 
 in his room that night he sat down and pored over 
 a certain passage in a book that lay open on the 
 table. The running head at the top of the page 
 was "Mental Suggestion." He pressed his hand to 
 his forehead while he read, as if to help him to 
 comprehend. Once he got up and paced the room, 
 deep in thought. Then he sat down again, to read 
 and re-read the paragraph that held him. He 
 seemed to be trying to draw from it some informa 
 tion about which he was uncertain, and yet hope 
 ful, for he put his finger on a line now and then, 
 and at such times one might have thought he was 
 endeavoring to hold down a fact by main strength 
 until he had grasped its full significance. Especi 
 ally did he do this with the last few sentences. 
 Something was there that gave him a sort of grim 
 satisfaction. The paragraph which he read over 
 
 so many times was as follows : 
 
 292
 
 THE CLIMAX 293 
 
 "It is well established in many minds that a 
 person of strong will often can control the thoughts, 
 and even the acts, of another, if the conditions are 
 favorable. The scientific nature of these favorable 
 conditions has never been determined, because they 
 vary in different subjects. In general, the test is 
 more likely to be successful when the subject has 
 faith in the power of the operator, and is well dis 
 posed or friendly toward him. Mental suggestion 
 has been employed beneficially by physicians, and 
 doubtless is often a factor when not even the doc 
 tor himself suspects it. Unfortunately, the influ 
 ence can also be exerted to the detriment of the 
 subject, as is occasionally seen at public exhibitions, 
 when the operator causes persons from the audience 
 to go through absurd antics or temporarily to lose 
 some of their faculties. A subject may be told that 
 he cannot speak, sing or move, and unless his will 
 is much stronger than that of the operator, he will 
 find that actually he cannot utter a sound or stir a 
 muscle until released from the strange power that 
 has held him. One of the phases of the phenomena 
 of mental suggestion which is of particular interest 
 is that the will of the stronger mind may control 
 the volition of the subject from afar and long after 
 the active experiment has been finished." 
 
 "That is clear enough," muttered Raymond, as
 
 294 THE CLIMAX 
 
 he went over the closing sentence for the fifth time. 
 "It does not say that it is always so, however, nor 
 even that it is usual. That word 'may' might mean 
 anything. "The will of the stronger mind may con 
 trol the subject from afar and long after ' In 
 other words, it doesn't always. These professors are 
 always so cautious when they venture into print. 
 Afraid of what other professors may say, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 He closed the book and put it on a shelf with 
 a few other volumes, all relating to his profession, 
 which composed his library in New York, and stood 
 in front of the dresser, contemplating a photograph 
 in a frame. It was that of a girl, and it is hardly 
 necessary to say what girl, especially when it is 
 told that he put the picture to his lips ere he turned 
 away and prepared to go to bed. He had looked 
 quickly about him as he put the photograph down, 
 as if half ashamed of so sentimental an act. And 
 yet he had locked his door, and his window-blind 
 was tightly closed. 
 
 "I wonder what she is doing?" he asked of the 
 darkness, as he dropped upon his pillow. "Poor 
 little girl ! Asleep, I hope. I'm afraid I never shall 
 forget her face when she realized that It was 
 cruel. Yes, it was cruel. But when a canker is in 
 the tissues, the only possible cure is to cut it out.
 
 THE CLIMAX -95 
 
 And to think that I had to be the surgeon! But 
 there was no one else. Ah, well ! She'll get over it 
 in time, and then then 
 
 If, through the blackness, he saw her coming 
 down a garden-path in the sunlight, in bridal gar 
 ments, holding out to him a handful of royal-purple 
 pansies, the vision may have been a continuation 
 of his speculations where they had ceased to be 
 audible. Or it may have been a dream. What did 
 it matter? 
 
 When Raymond went to the Golfanti apart 
 ment the next evening, Luigi, knowing he was com 
 ing, met him at the front door. He wanted to speak 
 to the doctor before he went up stairs. 
 
 "When we got up this morning she have 
 breakfast ready," said Luigi. "She look white, and 
 her eyes red. But she laugh oh, how she laugh! 
 Pietro and me we know she only put it on, but we 
 laugh, too, as if we had a joke. Then she pour out 
 the coffee, talking all the time about the breakfast, 
 and Anton Rubinstein, and Mrs. Vittorio. But 
 never a word about her not able to sing last night. 
 I not know what to make of it. So I laugh when 
 she laugh, and we talk, all three, like we very 
 happy." 
 
 "She is well, then?" 
 
 Luigi shook his head, and putting his right
 
 290 THE CLIMAX 
 
 forefinger along the side of his nose, to express ex 
 treme sagacity, he answered: "She not well, but 
 she not admit. Pietro he go out after breakfast. 
 When she and me alone she say, 'Uncle Luigi, may 
 I still live here?' I almost swear in Italian. But 
 I don't quite. I only tell her she live with us al 
 ways unless she get married. Then she say she 
 teach the piano and earn enough to pay her share 
 of the housekeeping, and she want to stay all her 
 life with her dear Uncle Luigi. That what she call 
 me." 
 
 He almost broke down when he got to this 
 stage of his recital, but recovered himself with a 
 mighty sniff and went on : 
 
 "She ask me never to speak about her voice 
 again, and to tell Pietro and you. What she want, 
 she say, is to forget that she ever could sing. We 
 must all forget it, too. That was all she asked 
 Oh, yes, there was one other thing: She beg that 
 Pietro not play any more his 'Song of a Soul' when 
 she home. Now, come up and see her, Doctor. But 
 do not speak about last night." 
 
 Raymond did not stay long that evening, but 
 if he feared that it would be painful to meet Ade- 
 lina for the first time after her disappointment he 
 was decidedly mistaken. Sh-e greeted him smil 
 ingly, and seemed so determined that he should be
 
 THE CLIMAX 2 97 
 
 at his ease, that Pietro's jealousy threatened to 
 burst into flame more than once. She chatted about 
 the people of Azalia and recalled many incidents of 
 the old days in the garden and under the porch 
 with the crimson ramblers. She never mentioned 
 St. Jude's choir, however, nor referred in any way 
 to her singing. But she sat down to the piano and 
 played a duet with Pietro, saying, banteringly, that 
 "if Jack had kept up his violin studies,, he could 
 have joined in the music to-night." It was obvious 
 that she did not connect him with the awful thing 
 that had happened to her. Even though she had 
 resolved to put behind her the ambition which had 
 colored her whole life since childhood, it would 
 not have been in human nature to treat him with 
 cordiality if she had suspected h^m of being the 
 wilful cause of her unhappiness, ever so remotely. 
 So it was in a puzzled frame of mind that he left 
 the house. He would have given a great deal to 
 know what her sentiments toward him really were. 
 For a week Raymond went through the routine 
 of his existence as an advanced student in the hos 
 pital, following up the practical demonstrations 
 there by assiduous reading in his lonely room at 
 night. Books relating to the diseases which came 
 under his observation at the hospital had the first 
 call on his attention, but always he found time to
 
 298 THE CLIMAX 
 
 delve into treatises on various phenomena of the 
 mind about which, although he had learned some 
 thing, he still felt himself woefully ignorant. 
 
 Scientific research was not the only thing that 
 occupied him, however. He never ceased to specu 
 late on what answer he might expect if ever again 
 he put that important question to Adelina which 
 he had already asked her three times. He did not 
 forget her playful promise that if her voice should 
 fail, and there was no one else she liked better, 
 she would "think about it." 
 
 Of course, she had spoken only in jest, for she 
 had then no premonition of the unthinkable afflic 
 tion that had come to her now. But why should 
 not the jest become earnest? There was no one 
 else she cared for. He was sure of that. Well, he 
 would find out from her own lips what his own 
 chances were. He had not seen her for a week 
 staying away purposely, so that the first sharpness 
 of her distress should have time to wear off. Now 
 he would go that very afternoon, when he left the 
 hospital. Yes, and, by Jove ! on this day Pietro and 
 Luigi would be away, giving lessons, and he would 
 have her to himself. 
 
 "I am so glad you came, Jack," Adelina was 
 saying, two minutes after his arrival, as she took
 
 THE CLIMAX 299 
 
 his hat and overcoat. "It is more than a week 
 since you were here." 
 
 "No, just a week," he answered, his heart beat 
 ing a little faster at her indirect confession that she 
 had missed him more than he thought she would. 
 
 "It seems longer," she said. "When one is in 
 a strange city, one's old friends become more 
 precious, somehow, and we want to see them as 
 often as we can." 
 
 She said this in a low tone, looking through 
 the window at a drift of soft white clouds floating 
 across a patch of sky which could be seen above 
 the houses on the other side of the street if one 
 were sitting on the sofa, against the wall, near the 
 piano. The sofa was her favorite seat, for this 
 very reason, and she had dropped into it naturally, 
 after making Raymond take the one rocker that the 
 establishment boasted. Now, as she followed the 
 clouds in their slow procession across her bit of 
 sky, she fancied that perhaps, as they were mov 
 ing from the west, they had been over her garden 
 in Azalia not many hours before. It was not likely 
 that they had been there, but surely there is no 
 harm in a girl indulging her fancy. 
 
 As Raymond rocked in his chair, Adelina's 
 clear-cut profile was between him and the window. 
 How often he had seen it thus in the Azalia music-
 
 300 THE CLIMAX 
 
 room. He remembered it particularly on one cer 
 tain summer afternoon, when she had got up from 
 the piano to speak to the canary on the porch ! 
 
 Adelina had not brought the bird with her, be 
 cause she did not know whether she would be able 
 to take care of it in New York, and therefore had 
 left it in the care of Carrie Raymond. But Ray 
 mond could imagine it was outside the window in 
 this dingy city street, and that she was just going 
 to chirp to it, as she had been in the habit of doing, 
 at home. And now she had spoken as if she would 
 like to be back in Azalia, even though her father 
 was dead, and the old house never could be the 
 same to her again. What of that? John Raymond 
 did not want her to live in her old home, did he? 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 He was out of his chair and leaning over her 
 so suddenly that she looked at him in astonishment. 
 Then, as his words poured forth so fast that they 
 almost tumbled over each other, she knew he was 
 asking her again to do something she had thrice re 
 fused him, and somehow, this time, it gave her pain, 
 
 i 
 as well as annoyance. 
 
 "Adelina, why not go back to Azalia.?" he 
 pleaded. "Why stay here, among strangers, as you 
 have just said." 
 
 "Stop, Jack. I said 'in a strange city,' but I am
 
 THE CLIMAX 
 
 not among strangers here at home with Uncle 
 Luigi and Pietro." 
 
 Raymond made a gesture of impatience. She 
 went on, quickly : 
 
 "Yes, I know what you are thinking that Sig- 
 nor Golfanti is not my uncle. You have reminded 
 me of that before. But he has been more than an 
 uncle to me while I have lived in New York. He is 
 a father more of a father than my own ever was. 
 When I spoke of being in a strange city, I was not 
 thinking of him and Pietro." 
 
 "Still, you cannot always live like this, work 
 ing hard for your daily bread. You must marry 
 some time." 
 
 "I suppose so some time," she assented, wear- 
 ily. 
 
 "To me?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 There was something in her tone that he could 
 not understand. She did not command him to stop, 
 as she had always before when he spoke in this 
 way. She simply seemed not to care. Her manner 
 was that of one who had plucked a dead sea apple 
 and found that everything had turned to ashes, even 
 her capacity for loving. 
 
 All this certainly was disheartening to an earn 
 est, lover, and Raymond found himself gradually
 
 302 THE CLIMAX 
 
 ceasing to press his case, while she, following the 
 fleeting clouds across her patch of blue sky, ap 
 peared not to know whether he was speaking or 
 not. He made one last appeal. 
 
 "Adelina, what do you say? Will you let me 
 take you back to Azalia? Not now, if you are not 
 ready. I will wait as long as you say I must. Two 
 months six! Only say that some time, sooner or 
 later, you will give me the right I have always 
 hoped would be mine, to stand between you and 
 the world its hardships, its cruelties, its disap 
 pointments." 
 
 The last of the sailing white clouds had van 
 ished behind a dark wall of one of the houses which 
 bounded her bit of sky on one side. There was 
 nothing in the way of her view of limitless space. 
 She gazed into it, but it was only vacancy. She 
 knew that or thought she knew it. But was the 
 blue into which she peered actually emptiness? 
 Might there not be something beyond, if only her 
 sight were powerful enough to bring it to her? It 
 was a symbolism of her own present outlook on 
 life. Was her future to be all nothing? Might 
 there not be success triumph for her, far away in 
 the ether of the unknown? It was hard to believe 
 that she had reached the end of her ambition so 
 soon. She could not believe it. No, the clouds
 
 THE CLIMAX 303 
 
 .would disappear, and then, if she fixed her eyes 
 firmly, steadily, confidently, on the clear blue sky, 
 she might come to see at last that it was not all a 
 void, after all. She looked up into John Raymond's 
 face, and as she saw how his lips were quivering 
 with suspense, she whispered : 
 
 "Can you be patient with me, Jack?" 
 He raised his eyes, as if adjuring the gods to 
 witness that he never had shown any lack of that 
 virtue. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know, Jack," she continued, has 
 tily. "You have been more forbearing than I de 
 serve. But won't you keep on a little longer? I 
 haven't got quite used to it yet to to not to be 
 able to" 
 
 He took her hand, to signify that he knew what 
 was in her thoughts, and that she need not suffer 
 the pain of telling him. 
 
 "And so, Jack, I want time to think it all over 
 and make up my mind. You see, I thought until 
 lately that my life would be all so different. Then 
 I don't know whether I love you. I never have 
 known that. But I do know that I don't care for 
 anyone else. I don't believe I ever could." 
 
 He had kept her hand, and now, as he pressed 
 it hard, bent lower, as if to kiss her hair.
 
 304 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "No, don't Jack. Don't, please. Not now. I 
 want you to wait." 
 
 "For how long?" 
 
 She sat in silent thought for more than a min 
 ute. Then she answered : 
 
 "It is autumn now. Winter will soon be here. 
 I never feel that I know my own mind in winter. 
 The cold seems to get to my heart and brain, so 
 that I have no judgment. Foolish, isn't it? But I 
 can't help it. So let it be in the spring, Jack. Then 
 I will tell you." 
 
 "April?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 With that, he went away.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 "If music be the food of love, play on." 
 
 Autumn slowly faded into winter, and winter 
 warmed into spring, with no change in the conduct 
 of the Golfanti household. Adelina's cheerfulness, 
 forced at the beginning, gradually became her nor 
 mal condition. She had procured a number of piano 
 pupils, with the aid of Luigi and Pietro, and they 
 kept her occupied every week day. Some of them 
 came to her, and others she instructed in their own 
 homes. Thus she became familiar with the high 
 ways and byways of the city, and although often 
 she had to go out in inclement weather, it never 
 distressed her. She had once told John Raymond 
 she feared the cold warped her judgment, but phy 
 sically it had no evil effect on her. She liked her 
 work, anxi her home life was tranquil, in spite of 
 that fact that Pietro never ceased trying to make 
 love to her. 
 
 John Raymond was a frequent visitor, and al 
 though Luigi liked the grave, sensible young doc 
 tor more and more as he grew to know him better, 
 
 305
 
 306 THE CLIMAX 
 
 Raymond never could break through the wall of 
 jealous reserve Pietro had built up between them. 
 At first, none of them ever referred to Adelina's sor 
 row, but, as time passed, she talked about it her 
 self, generally with a wondering regret, but with 
 nothing of the fierce grief and antagonism toward 
 the whole world which had possessed her on that 
 night when, with her throat "asleep," she had 
 turned away from the piano in such awful despair. 
 Sometimes she could talk about the loss of her 
 voice almost lightly. She did so one afternoon 
 when she found herself alone with Pietro, and he 
 insisted on playing the tortured lover for the hun 
 dredth time. 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't be so silly, Pietro," she 
 said, rumpling his black curls playfully with a roll 
 of sheet-music. He swung around to her on the 
 piano-stool. 
 
 "Silly !" he echoed, bitterly. "That's what you 
 always tell me." 
 
 "It's what you are a silly boy. But a good 
 one, too." 
 
 "Oh, the deuce take my goodness. I am not a 
 boy at all." 
 
 "Yes, you are, and you behave like one." 
 
 "I don't. I'm a man, and I love you, Adelina." 
 
 "Of course you do," she answered, smiling and
 
 THE CLIMAX 307 
 
 threatening him again with the roll of music, "and 
 you are going to keep on loving me until you 
 meet the real girl, and find the real love." 
 
 "You're the only real girl for me," he insisted, 
 impetuously. 
 
 "No, I'm not. You may think so, but I'm 
 older than you " 
 
 "Five weeks." 
 
 "And I know better," she continued, disregard 
 ing the remark. "I only hope, for both your sakes, 
 that when you do meet the real girl, she will not 
 be a genius." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because, my dear cousin, you have quite 
 enough genius for one family." 
 
 "You mean that I ought not to compose music, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "I don't mean anything so ridiculous, Pietro. 
 But you need an anchor, to hold you near the earth 
 long enough to get your dreams down in black and 
 white in form to show and sell." 
 
 "Money is nothing," he snapped. 
 
 "It's the world's standard for measuring suc 
 cess," she rejoined. 
 
 "The greatest of musicians have died poor." 
 
 "Not when they have had the right kind of 
 anchor."
 
 308 THE CLIMAX 
 
 A bright idea struck Pietro at this, and he 
 asked, quickly: "Then, why don't you become my 
 anchor, by marrying me?" 
 
 She shook her head at him in smiling reproof, 
 as she replied : "I want to fly myself. It is true my 
 wings are clipped. Perhaps it was Doctor King who 
 clipped them. I don't know. But still I want to 
 fly, and I need a strong anchor to hold me down." 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and when Ade- 
 lina opened it, John Raymond walked in. Pietro 
 saw who it was, nodded coldly, and turned to the 
 piano. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Jack," said Adelina with 
 a pleased smile. "Have you just got back from 
 Azalia?" 
 
 "Yes, I arrived this morning. I had to report 
 at the hospital, but I came here as soon as I could 
 get away." Then, significantly: "This is spring, 
 you know." 
 
 She did not shrink at the reminder, but told 
 him she was glad to see him, and asked him many 
 questions about the people in Azalia. Pietro had 
 been improvising on the piano, but now struck into 
 "The Song of a Soul," playing it with the intense 
 feeling he always wove into his favorite composi 
 tion. 
 
 Adelina uttered a cry, as if someone had struck
 
 THE CLIMAX 309 
 
 her. Then she called out to the pianist in piteous 
 tones: 
 
 "Pietro, please don't!" 
 
 He stopped on the instant, saying, remorse 
 fully: "Oh! Adelina! I didn't mean I didn't 
 think what I was playing." 
 
 "And I didn't think it would hurt me so," she 
 said. "I supposed I'd got over all that long ago." 
 
 She turned a smiling face to John Raymond, to 
 prove that the pain had been only temporary, and 
 resumed the conversation which her sudden pro 
 test to Pietro had interrupted. 
 
 "So Carrie is married," she said, with the lively 
 interest of her sex the world over in the work of 
 Cupid and Hymen. "She has married that Chicago 
 lawyer, and gone to live there, has she? I hope 
 they'll be happy." 
 
 "She writes that she is happy very happy," 
 Raymond answered. 
 
 "How is my canary?" 
 
 "Capital. He sings louder than ever. So does 
 your Spanish rooster. He's not so musical as the 
 canary, but he makes up for that in energy. Mrs. 
 Ehrhardt says he doesn't get any older in appear 
 ance. She is saving him for you. She is con 
 vinced you will be back some day."
 
 310 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "My dear old black Spanish!" murmured Ade- 
 lina. "I should like to see him." 
 
 "Caesar! I must go!" ejaculated Pietro, 
 abruptly, from the piano. "I have that pupil in 
 Stuyvesant Square at four o'clock. I'd almost for 
 gotten her." 
 
 He made a dive for his hat, which he had 
 thrown upon the piano when he came in, and 
 bolted. It was the happy-go-lucky way in which 
 Pietro often kept his engagements. Composing 
 was of infinitely more interest to him than teach 
 ing. 
 
 "Poor Pietro! He'll have to hurry if he's 
 going to get there by four," remarked Adelina, 
 looking at the clock. "Teaching is an exacting 
 calling." 
 
 "Aren't you tired of it?" asked Raymond. 
 
 "Not particularly," she answered, slowly. "It 
 isn't what I had hoped for myself as my life work. 
 But it's music and there is pleasure in watching 
 the development of technical skill in those who al 
 ready love it, knowing that they owe it to your in 
 struction." 
 
 "But teaching is drudgery, at best, and I want 
 to see you free of it. Adelina, this is spring. You 
 remember what you said to me in the autumn, in
 
 THE CLIMAX 311 
 
 this very room, when I asked you a certain question 
 for the fourth time?" 
 
 She had seated herself on the piano-stool, and 
 Raymond, leaning an elbow on the piano, looked 
 down at her eagerly. Seemingly without thinking 
 of what she was doing, she began to play the 
 "Spring Song," so softly that it was easy to talk 
 through the music. 
 
 "I remember, Jack," she answered. 
 
 "And can you give me your decision?" 
 
 She played for some little time, looking at the 
 patch of blue sky toward which her gaze was so 
 often drawn when she was seated at the piano. 
 There were a few clouds, but they were golden- 
 edged, and she would not have had them away if 
 she could. 
 
 "What do you want me to say, Jack?" she 
 asked, at last. 
 
 "That you will be my wife," he replied, 
 quickly. "That you will give yourself to me, to 
 love, to cherish, to protect, to worship. Can you? 
 Will you?" 
 
 His earnestness made his voice hoarse, as he 
 bent over her so closely that his breath rippled the 
 hair clustered loosely over her forehead. She never 
 ceased playing, but her supple ringers were bring 
 ing forth the melody without conscious exertion.
 
 312 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "I hardly know what to say, Jack," sHe said. 
 "A few months ago my reply would have been the 
 same as it always has been. Now, the something 
 I had hoped, that filled my entire being, is gone. 
 The desire is still there, but without the hope." 
 
 "And your answer to me is " 
 
 "If you think it will make you happy yes." 
 
 With the contradictoriness of a lover, now that 
 lie knew he had won her, he was not quite satis 
 fied. 
 
 "Don't stop playing, Adelina. I can talk better 
 while I hear the music. I have one more question. 
 Do you love me?" 
 
 Her face became very serious, as she answered : 
 "I don't really know. I am not sure that the 
 thought of being your wife gives me happiness. 
 And yet, Jack, the bare idea of any other woman 
 holding that place would madden me. I could not 
 bear it." She played for a few moments without 
 speaking, and then added, coyly: "If that is love, 
 Jack, 1 love you." 
 
 Some lovers would have half smothered her 
 with embraces at this. John Raymond only kissed 
 her hair. He felt himself such a big, coarse crea 
 ture that it would have been sacrilege to do more. 
 Then he walked to the window and back, while 
 she watched him with a smiling look of proprietor-
 
 THE CLIMAX 313 
 
 ship that he caught as he turned. He would have 
 taken her in his arms then, only that he did not 
 want to stop her playing. He was a lover with 
 unusual self-control. 
 
 "Satisfied?" she asked, with a side glance that 
 drew from him a deep sigh of content. 
 
 "1 can't believe it yet, dear," he answered. "It 
 is aU so strange so unbelievable. To think that, 
 after all these months years I have you at last. 
 Why, I What a beautiful air that is ! It seems to 
 express my happiness, somehow. Mendelssohn, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes. One of his 'Songs Without Words.' I 
 think he must have written it for people without 
 voices, so that they could sing it with their fingers." 
 
 There was a short silence, save for the bewitch 
 ing melody that rose and fell under her skilled 
 touch. Then John Raymond asked her, in what he 
 tried to make a steady tone: 
 
 "Adelina, suppose your voice were to come 
 back after we are married, do you think you would 
 regret having given yourself to me?" 
 
 There was no doubt or hesitation in her reply. 
 She said, quietly: 
 
 "When we kneel at the altar, side by side, in 
 that moment I shall put everything else behind me.
 
 3H THE CLIMAX 
 
 If I did not know I could do that, I shoflld never 
 take the marriage vows." 
 
 Luigi Golfanti came in, with his customary 
 breeziness, nearly half an hour afterward. Ade- 
 lina was still playing, while John Raymond, his 
 elbow on the piano, looked into her face with adora 
 tion shadowed at intervals by something that a 
 close observer might have taken for doubt, fear 
 or remorse, or all three. 
 
 It was Adelina who went to Luigi, and, with 
 a blush that he thought extremely becoming, told 
 him that John Raymond had asked her to be his 
 wife. 
 
 "And you said 'yes,' of course. I knew this 
 was coming soon. I'm glad it come. Now we 
 know what you will do," chuckled Luigi, with his 
 forefinger at the side of his nose. 
 
 "And you're not surprised, Uncle?" 
 
 "How can I be surprised, when' I see him look 
 ing at you so many times all winter as if he would 
 eat you up? Pietro, he see it, too." 
 
 "Why, Uncle, I didn't know it. Jack, I'm 
 ashamed of you." 
 
 "Si, and when he not doing it, you were looking 
 at him," declared Luigi, still chuckling. "You 
 think you surprise me? No. I have eyes in my 
 face." Then, seizing Raymond's hand in a warm
 
 THE CLIMAX 315 
 
 grasp, he said, seriously: "I congratulate you, Sig- 
 nor Doctor. You have steal my little girl, but I am 
 glad of it. You can make her happy, and you will 
 do it." 
 
 "I'll try, Signor Golfanti. Heaven helping me, 
 she never shall have cause to regret her promise." 
 
 "Si. I know that," said Luigi, adding, as he 
 patted the girl's cheek, "Adelina, Doctor Raymond 
 is good man. You safe with him." 
 
 There was a pause, and then Adelina asked, a 
 little anxiously: "Uncle, will you tell Pietro?" 
 
 "Si. I tell him. He used to think he in love 
 with you himself. That foolish. He only a boy. 
 His love it is the love of a calf. It is nothing." 
 
 But Pietro did not agree with his father, and 
 that night, when John Raymond who stayed for 
 supper, listening to duets played by Pietro and 
 Adelina afterward had gone home, and when Pie 
 tro was the only one in the Golfanti apartments 
 who had not retired, he went into his studio and 
 brushed angry tears from his cheeks. Even "calf 
 love" is not without its discomfort.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 "The song that I sing yea, 'tis no new song; 
 It is tried and so it is true." 
 
 It was to be a June wedding. John Raymond 
 argued that, as he had waited so long for an answer 
 to his question, it ought to count against the ex 
 tended period which sometimes intervenes between 
 betrothal and the marriage day. Adelina did not 
 think this invulnerable logic, but she agreed to the 
 proposition. So it came about that, on one bright 
 morning, two months after she had given him 'her 
 promise, when city workers who lived in the 
 suburbs were bringing their roses to give fragrance 
 and a touch of color to offices in skyscrapers, and 
 to gloomy counting-rooms in dark corners of big 
 stores and warehouses, she came out of her own 
 chamber to the big room where the grand piano 
 stood, to ask her Uncle Luigi how he liked her 
 bridal gown. 
 
 "Beautiful! Lovely!" was his quick response. 
 "I always like you in white. You had a white frock 
 on when you sang in the church in Azalia. It suit 
 
 you. It fresh, sweet, pure. So are you." 
 
 316
 
 
 ^ ** 
 
 
 'LIKE OLD TIMES,
 
 THE CLIMAX 317 
 
 She pinched his cheek as she told him he was a 
 "silly old uncle," and that he would have to get 
 over the habit of flattering her, or Jack would 
 think she had been spoiled. Luigi insisted it was 
 not flattery, but the truth. And anybody looking 
 at the girlish figure in its well-fitting white gown, 
 the pretty, roguish face, and the golden-brown hair, 
 in which nestled two or three white carnations, must 
 have agreed with him. She was an ideal June 
 bride. 
 
 Luigi himself was gorgeous in light trousers, 
 white waistcoat, a frock coat which had seen better 
 days, but which, touched up by the skilful fingers 
 of Rubinstein, the tailor, did not show the moth- 
 holes nor the white seams which had been there 
 before its renovation. His tan shoes had been 
 blackened by Tony Balzano, the Italian shoeblack 
 at the corner, and on the coat-lapel was a white 
 carnation, placed there by Adelina. A silk hat, 
 with wide, curly brim, on the piano, would be his 
 crowning glory when ready to depart for the 
 church. 
 
 Adelina went back to her room, while Luigi, 
 calling Pietro, who had been putting the final 
 touches to his toilet, slipped off his coat and slid 
 into one of Adelina's check aprons. Then he 
 pointed to the dishpan in which were the soiled
 
 3i8 THE CLIMAX 
 
 cups and saucers left from breakfast. With a dole 
 ful expression on his face which Luigi only laughed 
 at, Pietro helped his father "wash up" the crock 
 ery. They couldn't think of allowing Adelina to 
 do it on this occasion, her wedding morn, although 
 she had begged to do so. 
 
 "This like old times, eh?" said Luigi. 
 
 Mr. Raymond, senior, and Carrie, with her 
 husband, from Chicago, had come to New York to 
 attend the wedding. They would be at the church 
 a quiet old tree-shaded edifice near Washington 
 Square and afterward would go West on the train 
 which would bear Adelina and John Raymond away 
 to their future home in Azalia. 
 
 Wheels sounded outside and stopped in front 
 of the house, and Luigi shouted, excitedly: 
 
 "Here it is ! Pietro ! Come out ! Adelina, you 
 ready? Where my hat?" 
 
 He put on the silk hat and began to fumble 
 with his lavender kid gloves, while Pietro called 
 from his room that he would be out directly. Ade 
 lina was looking around the room with a sad face. 
 It had been her home for many months, and she 
 could not leave it without a pang. Even though 
 it was here that she had suffered the shock which 
 perhaps would never cease to echo in her heart 
 from time to time, it also was in this home that her
 
 THE CLIMAX 319 
 
 Uncle Luigi had come to be more than a father, 
 while for Pietro she entertained an affection which, 
 if not of the kind he desired, was sincere in its sis 
 terly steadfastness. 
 
 "You're sure it is the carriage, Uncle?" she 
 asked, as, having drawn about her shoulders the 
 lace shawl she intended to wear to the church, she 
 touched with caressing fingers the fresh pansies in 
 a vase on the table that John Raymond had sent 
 her that morning, and which she meant to take 
 with her on the train. 
 
 "Si. Do I not hear the coachman swearing at 
 his horses? Of course it is the carriage, and " 
 
 She put a hand over his mouth and whispered : 
 "Uncle, before we go down stairs, won't you let 
 me tell you that I am sorry to leave you and Pie 
 tro? You believe that, don't you?" 
 
 "Si. I know it." 
 
 "We have had happy days, Uncle, since I came 
 to be your pupil very happy." 
 
 "Si. Too bad the miserable ones they come, 
 too," he answered, with a lugubrious shake of his 
 head, as his eyes moistened. 
 
 "They could not be kept away. They come 
 to everyone, Uncle. I know what you are thinking 
 about. But even those days, in time, will coma to
 
 3 20 THE CLIMAX 
 
 be nothing but a beautiful memory of all your 
 kindness and affection, Uncle, dear." 
 
 Tears were in her own eyes, as well as in his, 
 but there was nothing bitter in them. They sug 
 gested a gently-chastened soul, rather than sorrow. 
 
 "That night, Adelina you know," said Luigi, 
 as he looked lovingly at her. "I cannot forget. My 
 heart it still feel the anguish." 
 
 "Yes," she responded, musingly. "Sometimes, 
 Uncle, I dream that night never was. I seem to 
 see another night, in an immense, brilliantly-lighted 
 theatre, and I am walking on the stage to sing. In 
 the sea of faces before me I see expectation, but 
 always friendly. The audience seems to know and 
 have confidence in me. There is a burst of hand- 
 clapping like the beginning of a great thunder 
 storm. Oh, it is glorious! I stand for a moment 
 and bow in response to the welcoming applause. 
 Then the orchestra crashes out the opening chords 
 of What do you think, Uncle?" 
 
 "What?" asked Luigi, softly, for the girl, it 
 seemed to him, had become transfigured, and to his 
 poetic southern imagination she was the very in 
 carnation of the art he loved so well music itself. 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "Pietro's 'Song of a Soul/ " 
 
 "Ah! You sing that?"
 
 THE CLIMAX 321 
 
 "Yes, and I sing as I never had sung before. 
 There is some new power within me which lends 
 fire to my tones. My voice rises higher and higher. 
 My soul speaks to theirs the people out front 
 through the words and melody. I reach the last 
 note, and, as it ends, the audience is on its feet, 
 sending forth roar after roar of applause. I bow, 
 but they will not stop. I run to the wings, and, as 
 they thunder for me to come back, I return, lead 
 ing by the hand my teacher, Luigi Golfanti." 
 
 "Si?" 
 
 "There is a hush as they see that I want to 
 speak. Then I tell them, 'It is he who is the mas 
 ter. I am only the pupil.' " 
 
 "Ah! That is very good," observed Luigi, 
 after a pause, during which he had regarded with 
 strong admiration her flushed cheeks and kindling 
 eyes. "But, carissima, it is only in dreams that 
 pupils do that for their teachers." He shook his 
 head in whimsical incredulity, and then, coming 
 back to the real present, added : "Remember, Ade- 
 lina, the carriage is here." 
 
 But it was not the carriage. A sharp tap at 
 the door, and John Raymond, in the correct attire 
 of a bridegroom, an apologetic smile on his face, 
 came in. His manner was feverish, as it seldom 
 was in this ordinarily well-poised young man.
 
 322 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "Why, Jack ! I didn't expect to see you here/* 
 cried Adelina. "I got those beautiful pansies, you 
 see. They're lovely." 
 
 "I'm glad you like them, dear. I know I am 
 violating all etiquette in seeing you on your wed 
 ding day before meeting you in church. But I 
 couldn't help it. The fact is, I did not sleep well 
 last night." 
 
 "That not strange," observed Luigi. "I re 
 member, when I get married, I walk the floor all 
 night. I was so nervous with happiness. That so 
 with you, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, but it was more than that. I had a: 
 queer presentiment of something evil. I can't ex 
 plain it, but it was there." 
 
 "You study too much, Jack," she said, with 
 tender solicitude. "I hope you won't do it when 
 you we get to Azalia." 
 
 "I tell you. It is those books you read, about 
 what you call ? mental phenomena," was Luigi's 
 opinion, expressed with much positiveness. "That 
 one you lend me, he give me the creeps. No won 
 der you nervous. If I read many books like that, 
 I see ghosts in my bedroom every night. Where 
 is that Pietro? I go and see. He been so long 
 dressing as if he going to be married to-day." 
 
 Luigi bustled away to the bedroom, and Ade-
 
 THE CLIMAX 323 
 
 lina loved him for his thoughtfulness. She knew 
 he had gone out only to give John Raymond an op 
 portunity to talk to her alone. 
 
 "Now, what is it, Jack?" she asked, affection 
 ately, standing directly in front of him. "What is 
 the matter?" 
 
 "I don't know, only I had to come and assure 
 myself you were safe, and and had not changed 
 your mind." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "About marrying me." 
 
 Her merry laugh was heard in the other room, 
 and Luigi remarked to Pietro that he would like to 
 know what the joke was that Doctor Raymond was 
 telling Adelina. 
 
 "Don't worry about that, Jack. You can't es 
 cape now," was her reply. "In less than half an 
 hour I shall be Mrs. John Raymond, unless some 
 thing happens." 
 
 He drew her to him in a fierce embrace, and 
 his breath on her cheek was so hot that she was 
 frightened. He mtfst be ill. 
 
 "What could happen?" he whispered. "Can you 
 think of anything that could make you give me up 
 now?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 She answered promptly, and with her clear
 
 324 THE CLIMAX 
 
 eyes looking- into his. He held her close for an 
 other instant, and then, as he released her, said, 
 in an altered tone: 
 
 "I'm going to the church now, dear. You will 
 be there almost as soon as I, for I hear your car 
 riage driving up to the door." 
 
 Luigi came out of the bedroom and ran to the 
 window, pointing excitedly downward, to indicate 
 that the carriage had come. 
 
 "Good morning, Doctor Raymond." 
 
 It was Pietro, who had followed his father, 
 and who looked very handsome in his new clothes, 
 bought especially for the wedding. 
 
 "Good morning, Pietro." 
 
 Pietro hesitated, and then impulsively put out 
 his hand, palm upward. Raymond took it at once, 
 with evident pleasure. 
 
 "Doctor Raymond," said Pietro, swallowing 
 hard, "we haven't been the best of friends, have 
 we?" 
 
 "I have always felt friendly toward you, Pie 
 tro." 
 
 "I believe that. But I haven't toward you. 
 I've behaved like a cad at times, and I'm sorry 
 very sorry. It wasn't that I had anything against 
 you as a gentleman, or man. But well, I guess 
 you know. Will you forgive me?"
 
 THE CLIMAX 325 
 
 The pressure of Raymond's hand was answer 
 enough, and Pietro stalked to the piano and began 
 playing softly, from mere force of habit. 
 
 "Adelina, here is something you ought to take 
 with you," said Luigi, taking up from the window- 
 sill the atomizer with which Raymond had sprayed 
 her throat for several days after it was found that 
 Doctor King's operation had resulted so disas 
 trously. 
 
 "Do you still use that, Addie?" asked Ray 
 mond. 
 
 "Not lately. I used to do so, because I thought 
 it made my throat feel easier. But soon I decided 
 that it was not necessary, and I have not tried it for, 
 months. I put it out, intending to take it with me, 
 but it seems I overlooked it when I was packing 
 my trunk." 
 
 "I'll take care of it," volunteered Raymond, 
 putting the atomizer in his pocket. 
 
 "Come on, Pietro," cried Luigi, somewhat test 
 ily. "What you sitting there for? We'll be late." 
 
 "That's true. We shall all be late. I must 
 go," said Raymond. "My father and Carrie will 
 wonder what has become of me." 
 
 He had already reached the door, when a sud 
 den fancy seized Adelina, and she ran to the piano, 
 telling Pietro she was going to try to sing just
 
 326 THE 'CLIMAX 
 
 once more before she went away. She never would 
 have him for an accompanist again, perhaps. 
 
 Raymond stopped. 
 
 "I wouldn't if I were you, Adelina," he said. 
 "It might hurt your throat." 
 
 He spoke in the authoritative tone of a doctor, 
 but there was an undercurrent of appeal in it, as 
 well. 
 
 "You have not try the voice lately, have you, 
 Adelina?" asked Luigi, casually. 
 
 "Not for months. The last time I tried I 
 found it hurt me. I suppose it will now. But 
 give me the key, Pietro, and I'll try, just for fun." 
 
 "There's not much time," said Luigi. "But I 
 suppose we can give you five minutes. Girls always 
 are doing things no one else would think of." 
 
 "Addie !" cried Raymond, warningly. 
 
 But she did not heed either of them. As Pie 
 tro played a chord, she sang the corresponding note, 
 and then, very slowly, ran the octave scale. 
 
 "You see," she said, turning to Raymond, "my 
 voice is like a piano with a delayed action. I strike 
 the key, but I must wait for the tone. Now, you'll 
 hear, when I try to connect the tones or sing them 
 quickly. Listen." 
 
 She began slowly to run the scale, and then,
 
 THE CLIMAX 327 
 
 without effort, sang it as rapidly as the written 
 music demanded. 
 
 A look of surprise and hope came to her face, 
 as she did it again. Luigi, his hands pressed tightly 
 together, leaned forward and made a glad outcry: 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 "Come on, Adelina! Try it again," shouted 
 Pietro, wild with excitement. 
 
 Once more she sang the scale, rapidly, clearly 
 and evenly, and then burst into a bravura that she 
 had never attempted in her best days except when 
 assured that she was in perfect voice. 
 
 "Brava! Brava! Bravissima !" shrieked 
 Luigi. 
 
 "By heaven ! You never did it better," cried 
 Pietro, as he ran the scale up and down the piano. 
 
 "Uncle! Uncle! I can sing!" 
 
 Adelina flung herself hysterically into Luigi's 
 arms. 
 
 John Raymond, pale and shaking, leaned his 
 two hands upon the table and stared at her with the 
 awful fixed look of one in a trance.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 "I pour my joy forth in a song." 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 It was John Raymond's voice cold and me 
 tallic, as she thought which recalled her to her 
 self. 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 "Yes, Jack?" 
 
 "The carriage is waiting. You will be at the 
 church in time?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well. I will go there and wait for you." 
 
 "I'll soon be there. But Jack, dear isn't it 
 glorious ?" 
 
 She was by his side as he was about to open 
 the door, looking into his face for sympathy in her 
 great joy. 
 
 "You mean" 
 
 "My voice coming back. Oh, I must sing Pie- 
 tro's 'Song of a Soul' before I go. I won't be long. 
 You won't mind waiting for just a few minutes, 
 will you ? Tell Carrie. Oh, no one knows what it 
 
 328
 
 THE CLIMAX 329 
 
 means to me. Play, Pietro ! Play ! I must sing, or 
 go mad!" 
 
 "Adelina!" 
 
 This time there was stern resolve in John Ray 
 mond's tones, and she stopped as abruptly as if he 
 had taken her by the wrist and held her. 
 
 "Yes, Jack!" 
 
 "It isn't too late," he said, forcing himself to 
 speak steadily, although his agitation could not be 
 kept out of his tones altogether. "Now that you 
 can sing perhaps you are sorry you promised me 
 But I will release you, if if you desire it." 
 
 "Jack?" 
 
 "Think, Addie ! Think!" and his words 
 sounded like a groan. 
 
 She put one hand over her eyes, holding out 
 the other gropingly. 
 
 "Don't let me think, Jack. Take me." 
 
 He caught the wandering hand and whispered, 
 rapidly, in tones that were not like his own : "If 
 you knew I had caused the loss of your voice, 
 would you come with me, then?" 
 
 She pulled her hand away and standing off at 
 a little distance, looked at him with wide-open 
 eyes, as if an unbelievable revelation had come to 
 her. 
 
 "I don't understand it," she said, separating
 
 330 THE CLIMAX 
 
 each word and syllable, and speaking very slowly. 
 "You couldn't do such an awful, cruel thing." 
 
 "I did do it. I am a doctor, and I did it. Now, 
 will you give yourself to me in that church?" 
 
 She hesitated for an instant. Then, flinging up 
 her head, as if she had cast from her an unworthy 
 doubt she answered, in clear, ringing tones: 
 
 "Yes, I will, for I don't believe it." 
 
 "It is the truth," he persisted. "It was I who 
 caused you to lose your voice for so long. I and 
 no one else." 
 
 "If it is the truth, how did you do it?" broke 
 in Luigi, who, having heard enough of the half- 
 whispered conversation to awaken his suspicions, 
 now found them confirmed by Raymond's last 
 loudly-uttered assertion. "Tell us. We want to 
 know. We must know." 
 
 "I'll tell you, Addie," said Raymond, address 
 ing himself to her, and not to Luigi. "Doctor King 
 told me you would not sing well until the vocal 
 cord stretched by him had in the course of time 
 worked into unison with the others. I did not tell 
 you this. I led you to believe that the success or 
 failure of the operation would show at the first 
 trial of the voice." 
 
 She nodded, and he continued: "When you
 
 THE CLIMAX 33* 
 
 tried to sing, I secretly suggested to you that you 
 must fail." 
 
 "You mean telepathically?" 
 
 "Yes. That night you were so nervous as to 
 be a good subject for mental suggestion. I made 
 that suggestion as strong as I could. When you 
 tried to sing you were filled with the dread of 
 breaking down. Your voice did not respond im 
 mediately. That gave you a shock that shattered 
 your nerves still more, and the suggestion of fail 
 ure did the rest. Now you know why you could 
 not sing that night." 
 
 Luigi and Pietro had been listening as he 
 made this confession, and if Pietro had not been 
 quick in catching his father's arm, the old Italian 
 would have had John Raymond by the throat. 
 
 Adelina, looking sternly at him, did not move. 
 
 "Why did you do this, Jack?" she asked, at 
 last. 
 
 "I saw your voice stealing you away from me 
 dragging you toward a life that could mean only 
 your destruction in this world and the next, and I 
 determined to save you," he replied, doggedly. 
 
 "To save me? From what?" 
 
 "From the stage. From a life so unwholesome 
 that less than ten women in every hundred pass 
 through it unsoiled."
 
 33 2 THE CLIMAX 
 
 "My mother was one of the ten or she would 
 have been if your estimate were correct. Don't you 
 think I could be, also?" 
 
 "Forgive me, Addie. I should not have said 
 that. I have no right to say positively what the 
 stage is or is not. I speak only by common report." 
 
 "In Azalia," she suggested, bitterly. "It is 
 Azalia's opinion you share." 
 
 "As I have always lived in Azalia except during 
 the past few months, yes," he admitted, adding des 
 perately, his face drawn with agony : "I love you, 
 Adelina. Don't you see that I would believe any 
 thing which would warrant me in trying to keep 
 you?" 
 
 "Even to inflicting such torture on me as you 
 did that night, when you told and acted a false 
 hood." 
 
 "I love you, Addie." 
 
 She went on, unheeding him : "And you would 
 have married me with this lie in your heart." 
 
 "I love you." 
 
 "You would have tricked me into marrying 
 yon." 
 
 "Listen, Adelina," and there was a world of 
 tenderness and appeal in his tones now. "Once, 
 when you were a little girl, you ran a splinter into
 
 THE CLIMAX 333 
 
 your hand. I wanted to take it out, but you were 
 afraid when you saw my penknife." 
 
 She sat down by the table, her face hidden by 
 her hands, andj wept softly. 
 
 "I knew that the splinter must not stay there," 
 he continued, "so I took you and held you by force 
 while I cut it out. You screamed with the pain as 
 I did it, but afterward you were glad." 
 
 She did not look up when he had finished 
 speaking. He stepped over to her and whispered: 
 
 "Is this the end?" 
 
 Without replying, she got up and went to the 
 piano, beckoning to Pietro, who took his seat on the 
 stool and looked up at her questioningly. 
 
 She resolutely brushed the tears from her face 
 and pointed to the music of "The Song of a Soul," 
 which was open before him. 
 
 "Will you sing it, Adelina?" asked Pietro. 
 
 She nodded. He played the prelude. 
 
 "Adelina!" cried Raymond. "Won't you speak 
 to me?" 
 
 An impatient sweep of her hand was all she 
 vouchsafed to him. Then she began to sing with 
 a fervor that told how she rejoiced in the possession 
 of the voice she believed she had lost forever. 
 
 John Raymond stood by the table, look : ng at 
 her. Luigi whose anger at him had evaporated
 
 334 THE CLIMAX 
 
 as suddenly as it arose was by the side of the 
 young doctor. 
 
 Adelina finished the song, and Pietro played 
 it over again, softly and lingeringly, as if loath to 
 let it go. Luigi went to her and whispered some 
 thing in her ear. She shook her head. He per 
 sisted. Once more she made a negative sign, but 
 a gentle expression had dispelled the frown with 
 which she had driven away the tears as she arose 
 from the table to go to the piano. 
 
 "What do you want me to do, Uncle?" she 
 asked, at last. 
 
 A knowing smile lighted up honest Luigi's 
 face. He answered, quietly, but loudly enough for 
 Raymond to hear: 
 
 "You love him, Adelina. It is in your voice. 
 Only through love could you have sung as you did 
 just now. I have been a singer and I know. You 
 love him, I tell you, and you will forgive him." 
 Then, as he looked into her face, he added, confi 
 dently: "You have forgiven him." 
 
 She did not shake her head now. 
 
 "Signor Doctor Raymond, come here," cried 
 Luigi, in mock-stern accents. "Adelina want you. 
 Pietro, come with me to the studio." 
 
 Father and son went out, leaving them to 
 gether.
 
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