Read The Crimson Thread: An Adventure Story for Girls Page 18
CHAPTER XVIII THE MYSTERY LADY'S NEW ROLE
Such a party as it was; that one which was being enjoyed by Lucile andher friends of the juvenile book corner. Such crisp brown cream biscuits!Such breast of turkey with cranberry sauce and dressing! Such pudding!Even in the days of her childhood at home Lucile had never seen a moresumptuous feast. All this, in the midst of the gayest of Christmasspirit, made the occasion one long to be remembered by any person whosemind was not too much occupied by bewitching thoughts of other importantthings.
As for Lucile, her mind was indeed engaged with dreams that were far fromthe realm of food and drink. She was thinking of that meeting she had solong dreamed of and which she still had the courage to hope might come topass, her own meeting with the Mystery Lady of the Christmas Spirit.
"I shan't fail to recognize her," she assured herself, "though she bedressed like an Eskimo or a South Sea Island maiden."
At last the time came for strolling down the Boulevard toward the musichall. Lucile stared at the passing throngs until Laurie teasingly askedher whether she hoped to see in one of them the face of a long lostbrother.
At last she found herself in the opera chair of the great hall. Now, atleast, she was in the same room as the Mystery Lady, or soon must be, forif the Mystery Lady had not entered she soon would. In ten minutes thefirst note would be struck. There was a thrill in that.
It was to be a truly wonderful program, such a one as the girl hadperhaps never listened to before. And she loved music, fairly adored it.As she thought how her interest this night must be divided between thefine music and the Mystery Lady, she found herself almost wishing thatthe Mystery Lady had not brought into her life so much that was unusual,perplexing and mysterious.
"Perhaps I shall be able to locate her before the music begins," shethought to herself. "Then, during a recess, I'll glide up to her andwhisper, 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.'"
Though she scanned the sea of faces near and far, not one of them all,save those of her own little group, was familiar to her.
It was with a little sigh of resignation that she at last settled back inher seat and allowed her program to flutter to her lap.
The time for the first number had arrived. The musicians had taken theirplaces. The rows of violinists and cornetists, the standing bass violplayer, the conductor with his baton, all were there. Like soldiers atattention, they waited for the soloist.
Mademoiselle Patricia Diurno, the country's most talented young pianist,was to lead that night in the rendition of three master concertos.
There was an expectant lull, then mighty applause. She was coming. At adoor to the right she appeared. Down a narrow way between rows ofmusicians she passed, a tall, slim, gracefully beautiful lady.
In the center of the stage she paused to bow in recognition of theapplause, then again, and yet again. Then, turning with such grace asonly a trained musician knows, she moved to her place and with a slightnod to the leader, placed her hands upon the keys, then sent them racingover the keys, bringing forth such glorious music as only might belearned beside a rushing brook in the depths of the forest.
Lucile gripped her seat until her fingers ached. She strove to remainseated while her face went white and then was flushed with color.
"It is she," she whispered to herself. "It cannot be, yet it is! The sameeyes, the same nose, the same hair. I cannot be mistaken. It is she!Patricia Diurno, the celebrated, the most wonderful virtuoso, is theMystery Lady and the Spirit of Christmas! And I? How am I to remain inthis seat for two mortal hours while before me sits a woman pouring forthbewitching music, a woman who for a handclasp has the power to make merich, yes, rich? Two hundred in gold. How--how can I?"