THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 331, 17 July 1914, Page 6

THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.

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A SHORT STORY.

FART II

/ A few seconds later Bernard had the violin in his hand and was examining it minutely. The organ had always been his favorite instrument, but lie had early in life also received instruction upon the violin from one of the best masters of the day. So, smiling at Bess, he raised the instrument on his shoulder, and, taking up the bow, prepared to try his skill with some simple melody- But no sooner had the bow touched the strings Than Bernard felt ns though an unseen hand grasped lus. The bow glided firmly but- gently upwards, a few soft, silvery notes toned forth, a mist rose before him concealing everything but the pale, sweet face of his wife, around whose sunny head appeared a nimbus of golden light, while her eyes shone like two radiant stars. Then, as without the slightest volition on his part, a glorious wave of soul-enrapturing music floated through the room, it seemed if, suddenly released from its earthly tenement of pain and sorrow, all mundane things fotgotten, his spirit, revelling in its untammelled freedom, sped upward through scenes of mortal ken. All that he was conscious of was a peace divine —an exquisite, unsurpassable, holy joy at the fulness of life—too full for human utterance to express ever so faintly; for he knew in his inner consciousness, which was all that ho seemed to retain of his identity, that the joy-giving, resplendent sights Ins eyes beheld, and the rapturous sound which filled his ears, were those which the dying see and hear. But, where speech fails, music takes up the sublime task of conveying to earth’s unfettered spirits something of the joys that await us in the great beyond. Thus Bernard knew, as his 3piritually-guided hand wielded "the bow and richest harmony upon harmony roso and foil, that whether the movement was in stately adagio or rippling allegro, eat-h dulcet note, each- softly falling cavonza, was the interpretation of the light and glory of tire spheres the triumphant song and march of the conquerors over death and sin; and the celestial footsteps of angels ascending and descending in the fulfilment of their heaven-appointed service of ministering—though unseen by them—to the sick, sorrowful and sinful ones of earth. Apd, as ho played on, the wonder and beauty gained in intensity, until his inmost sou! grew, as it were, intoxicated with the excess of an inexpressible bliss.

As for his wife, she gat like one in a trance, utterly lost to all save 'the glorified and beatific expression of her husband’s countenance and the majesty, grandeur, richness, and tender pathos of the enthralling strains that poured forth from the soul of the violin. She was as one sitting at early morn in some shady nook or sunny mead, listening to the lark’s morning paean of praise to its Creator, and watching its flight into the blue vault of heaven, upward, higher and higher, until the head grows dizzy, and the power of vision has reached its utmost limits. For she seemed to follow tho progress of her husband’s soaring spirit, and to sip of the deep draught of joy in,which it revelled. At last, in a soft diminuendo, liko the folding of angel’s wings, the music ceased, tho violin slipped down by Bernard’s side, and the bow dropped from his nerveless hand. In an instant the young wife awoke from her trancelike’condition, all her former fears returned with a sickening throbbing rush to her heart, as bending over him, she cried: <! 01i, Bernard ! Bernard! my husband, speak to me!” Fortunately, Bernard’s prostration was but transient, and the next moment ho opened his eyes, still shining with reflected joy, and, clasping Bess to his heart, exclaimed: “My darling! have no fear for me.”

Yet even as lie said this, he felt within himself that the period of transporting' exultation through which his spirit had passed had wellnigh ended in its severance with the body.

The following morning, about eleven o’clock, Bernard Weist stood upon the steps of a handsome villa residence in St. John’s AA'ood, the abode of one of the great “shining lights” of the musical world. The servant who opened the door to him informed him that her master was engaged, and likely to be for some hours to come. But, nothing daunted, tho young man handed her his card, saying that, as his business was 'important, he felt sure tho Professor would see him if she would take it in. With a reluctant air she ushered him into a small ante-room, and then disappeared. Ten minutes—which to tlio impatient Bernard semed an age—passed, and as he sat gazing feverishly at tho viclin-ca&e resting on his knees, tho door was thrown open and in marched the great Professor, his rubicund' face beaming with pleasure and his hand outstretched in welcome, whilo in hearty tones he exclaimed: “Is it possible I see before me my old friend and pupil, Bernard WeistP And your good father, what of him ?”

“Alas, Professor, he is no more. You know ho lost all his money through ”

“All! I know, I know,” put in the Professor, in pitying tones: “I was abroad when it all happened, and when I returned, try as I would, I could not find either of you. You should have found mo something more than a fairweather friend. But,” he ended with a sigh, “poor Weist was ever tho proudest and sensitive of men. And now what about yourself, my sou?' I aeeyou have an instrument there.”

“Yes; it is respecting that I came to see you,” answered Bernard. Then, drawn on by the sympathetic interest in his affairs displayed by his father’s old friend, he told the story, omitting nothing. With mingled feelings of pity and wonder the Professor heard him out. Then he said: ■' Ah,’ my ’so . if you could only reproduce that music your fortune is made.”

In answer Bernard took up the, to him, now doubly priceless violin, and placing it in position, said quietly, “Listen!”

And tho Professor did listen, speechless, spellbound, entranced. The music ended. He grasped Bernard's trembling hand and gasped out in accents of delight: “Is it magic? Is it em ehantment ? Or has the spirit of Handel, Mozart, Haydn, or one of the great departed Masters returned to possess you. If not, it is surely a Divino commission to give to the world a masterpiece which can only have come from the fountain of all true in* spiration,” “Then I will write it!” cried Berman d his eyes sparkling and his cheek* flushing and paling by turns. J “Ah! if you only could,” sighed the other. I

If he only could! Was it not a cap* iivo in his soul and brain? Had it not become as a part of his very being, never leaving him for a single instant, sleeping or waking? Now, indeed, would his musical education stand him, in good stead?

“Then you think I should not part with my treasure?” he queried, excitedly, as with an almost reverent and loving touch, he put the violin back in its case. i

“Not for a ransom!” cried the Pro-* fessor, “though I know of more than one person who would cheerfully give you a thousand pounds for it at tha very least.” !

“A thousand pounds !” thought Bernard. “And his little Nan—what of her?” In his ecstacy he had forgotten his pressing need for money. “But I forgot,” he stammered. “I must save my child at any cost.” “She shall want for nothing, my friend,” replied the Professor. “For,” ho went on, “I will lend you— l know you will not take it as a gift—a hundred pounds for your present expenses. And for the rest I venture to predict fame and fortune are within your reach.”

With joy and gratitude Bernard acre pie cl tho Professor’s timely aid, and returned homo as though treading on air. Night and day he worked until tho score of his .masterpiece—to which kq had given the title “The Music of the Spheres”—was finished. Tho Professor, who paid him several visits while the work was in progress, was loud in his praises and vehement in his prophecies as to the future. As a result of his influence, a prominent linn of musical publishers undertook to bi-in# out tile work, and the story of its inception having been bruited abroad in the musical world, it soon acquired a rapid sale- Next Bernard re-, reived from a firm of concert promoters the offer of a three months’ engagement at a handsome salary, to play nightly on his violin “The Music of tho Spheres.” Gladly accepting it, he steadfastly refused the many offers —in some instances quite fabulous sums—made to him for the sale of his beloved instrument. !

Though his former wondrous expert-, cnee was never repeated, the memory, of it left a sacred after-flow, creating an influence which lingered within and around him, showing itself in the rapt expression of his noble face as night after night ho sat playing before the vast audiences, compelling their attentention as with a magic sway and leaving them with souls softened, chastened, purified, and exhilarated as by a draught of the rarefied ' air of some lofty mountain peak. ! Foremost among the varied emotions, caused by his Sudden good fortune was the gladness of the thought that his dear young wife and winsome, fragile child, no longer wanted for anything which money could procure for them, and the sweetest and happiest moment of his happy, busy days, when he heard tlio latter calling “Is that my daddie?”Acting upon inclination, the advice of the Professor, and encouraged by, his present success, Bernard ed all thought of returning to commer-. oial life, and gave himself up to the study of music; and as the years pass-, ed on made for himself the reputation of which he liad dreamt in his youths His wife bloomed into a comely main ron, and in the purer air of their pret-: ty home in Surrey Nan grew from a delicate, dying child into a strong and happy maiden, whose beauty was the constant delight of her father’s, heart. ’j

Thus health, wealth, fame, and love' became Bernard AVeist’s portion; and when at times he looked back at the

past and marvelled at the goodness of liis present life, he would softly aDd reverently murmur to himself. “And under Heaven I owe it all to ‘The Music, of the Spheres’ and my prioelesßf violin.” / (The End).. /

A QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE.

“Our horse and the cow is in the field,” declared tho teacher, reading aloud extracts from the bundle of essays on the desk before her. “Now, Mary, what is wrong with that sentence?”

! Mary, it would seem, was better ! versed in the rules of politen'ess than •in those of grammar. At all events, j'she answered promptly, j “Please, teacher, the lady should be mentioned first.”