The G. Bernard Shaw Collection: Plays, Novels, Personal Letters, Articles, Lectures & Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ a workman.”

      “Indeed! Where did she hear him sing?”

      “In her son’s laboratory, I believe. He came there to put up some electrical machinery, and sang into a telephone for their amusement. You know how fond Lord Jasper is of mechanics. Jasper declares that he is a genius as an electrician. Indeed it was he, rather than the Countess, who thought of getting him to sing for us.”

      “How very interesting! I saw that he was clever when he spoke to me. There is so much in trifles — in byplay, Mr. Lind. Now, his manner of picking up my glass had his entire history in it. You will also see it in the solid development of his head. That young man deserves to be encouraged.”

      “You are very generous, Mrs. Leith Fairfax. It would not be well to encourage him too much, however. You must recollect that he is not used to society. Injudicious encouragement might perhaps lead him to forget his real place in it.”

      “I do not agree with you, Mr. Lind. You do not read human nature as I do. You know that I am an expert. I see men as he sees a telegraph instrument, quite uninfluenced by personal feeling.”

      “True, Mrs. Leith Fairfax. But the heart is deceitful above all things and des — at least I should say — er. That is, you will admit that the finest perception may err in its estimate of the inscrutable work of the Almighty.”

      “Doubtless. But really, Mr. Lind, human beings are so shallow! I assure you there is nothing at all inscrutable about them to a trained analyst of character. It may be a gift, perhaps; but people’s minds are to me only little machines made up of superficial motives.”

      “I say,” said the young gentleman with the banjo, interrupting them: “have you got a copy of ‘Rose softly blooming’ there?”

      “I!” said Mrs. Fairfax. “No, certainly not.”

      “Then it’s all up with the concert. We have forgotten Marian’s music; and there is nothing for Nelly — I beg pardon, I mean Miss McQuinch — to play from. She is above playing by ear.”

      “I cannot play by ear,” said the restless young lady, angrily.

      “If you will sing ‘Coal black Rose’ instead, Marian, I can accompany you on the banjo, and back you up in the chorus. The Wandsworthers — if they survive the concertinas — will applaud the change as one man.”

      “It is so unkind to joke about it,” said the beautiful young lady. “What shall I do? If somebody will vamp an accompaniment, I can get on very well without any music. But if I try to play for myself I shall break down.”

      Conolly here stepped aside, and beckoned to the clergyman.

      “That young man wants to speak to you,” whispered Mrs. Fairfax.

      “Oh, indeed. Thank you,” said the Rev. Mr. Lind, stiffly. “I suppose I had better see what he requires.”

      “I suppose you had,” said Mrs. Fairfax, with some impatience.

      “I dont wish to intrude where I have no business,” said Conolly quietly to the clergyman; “but I can play that lady’s accompaniment, if she will allow me.”

      The clergyman was too much afraid of Conolly by this time — he did not know why — to demur. “I am sure she will not object,” he said, pretending to be relieved by the offer. “Your services will be most acceptable. Excuse me for one moment, whilst I inform Miss Lind.”

      He crossed the room to the lady, and said in a lower tone, “I think I have succeeded in arranging the matter, Marian. That man says he will play for you.”

      “I hope he can play,” said Marian doubtfully. “Who is he?”

      “It is Conolly. Jasper’s man.”

      Miss Lind’s eyes lighted. “Is that he?” she whispered, glancing curiously across the room at him. “Bring him and introduce him to us.”

      “Is that necessary?” said the tall man, without lowering his voice sufficiently to prevent Conolly from hearing him. The clergyman hesitated.

      “It is quite necessary: I do not know what he must think of us already,” said Marian, ashamed, and looking apprehensively at Conolly. He was staring with a policemanlike expression at the tall man, who, after a vain attempt to ignore him, had eventually to turn away. The Rev. Mr. Lind then led the electrician forward, and avoided a formal presentation by saying with a simper: “Here is Mr. Conolly, who will extricate us from all our difficulties.”

      Miss McQuinch nodded. Miss Lind bowed. Marmaduke shook hands goodnaturedly, and retired somewhat abashed, thrumming his banjo. Just then a faint sound of clapping was followed by the return of the quartet party, upon which Miss Lind rose and moved hesitatingly toward the platform. The tall man offered his hand.

      “Nonsense, Sholto,” said she, laughing. “They will expect you to do something if you appear with me.”

      “Allow me, Marian,” said the clergyman, as the tall man, offended, bowed and stood aside. She, pretending not to notice her brother, turned toward Conolly, who at once passed the Rev. George, and led her to the platform.

      “The original key?” he enquired, as they mounted the steps.

      “I dont know,” she said, alarmed.

      For a moment he was taken aback. Then he said, “What is the highest note you can sing?”

      “I can sing A sometimes — only when I am alone. I dare not attempt it before people.”

      Conolly sat down, knowing now that Miss Lind was a commonplace amateur. He had been contrasting her with his sister, greatly to the disparagement of his home life; and he was disappointed to find the lady break down where the actress would have succeeded so well. Consoling himself with the reflexion that if Miss Lind could not rap out a B flat like Susanna, neither could she rap out an oath, he played the accompaniment much better than Marian sang the song. Meanwhile, Miss McQuinch, listening jealously in the greenroom, hated herself for her inferior skill.

      “Cool, and reserved, is the modern Benjamin Franklin,” observed

       Marmaduke to her.

      “Better a reserved man who can do something than a sulky one who can do nothing,” she said, glancing at the tall man, with whom the clergyman was nervously striving to converse.

      “Exquisite melody, is it not, Mr. Douglas?” said Mrs. Fairfax, coming to the clergyman’s rescue.

      “I do not care for music,” said Douglas. “I lack the maudlin disposition in which the taste usually thrives.”

      Miss McQuinch gave an expressive snap, but said nothing; and the conversation dropped until Miss Lind had sung her song, and received a round of respectful but not enthusiastic applause.

      “Thank you, Mr. Conolly,” she said, as she left the platform. “I am afraid that Spohr’s music is too good for the people here. Dont you think so?”

      “Not a bit of it,” replied Conolly. “There is nothing so very particular in Spohr. But he requires very good singing — better than he is worth.”

      Miss СКАЧАТЬ