They need not have feared for him, for he was perfectly composed, and stood looking curiously about the house, smiling a little and waiting until the applause which followed the retreating favorite should have quite died away. He was unknown to the greater part of the audience, and a murmur went about the house; he was so young, a mere baby,--was it possible he could play? And then he raised his violin and began. The people glanced at their programmes: “Bach’s Allemande, Suite No. 2, in C Major.” Another flutter of surprise, and then gradually silence, deep and profound, as dreamily and rhythmically the wave-like accentuation of the mystical melody fell upon the listening ears which were entranced by the wonderful pathos of the composition as the young performer rendered it. An intense stillness held the whole house, and not a note was lost till he finished, and with downcast eyes made his low, grave salutation, and turned to leave the stage. Before he vanished a superb bouquet from the duchess was handed him, and his patroness herself from her box bent forward with sparkling eyes, bowing and smiling her delighted approval.
The spellbound audience rallied then and deafened itself with applause, but owing to the length of the bill there were to be no encores; so the pianist took his place, to be succeeded by the other performers, and then, after another song by Lalage, Philip returned, and as he took his place there was a rather quick fluttering of programmes as people looked quickly to see what they were to hear from the beautiful, wonderful boy violinist. But “A Study,” with no composer’s name annexed, gave no clue to what they might expect.
He began with a sweet, soft melody in A, a pathetic lullaby that seemed, with all its sweetness, to carry a desolate sadness that made the tears start to many eyes; then the music changed strangely, and wild, defiant sounds took the place of the unutterably sweet melody; gradually these new sounds gave way to throbbing, wailing strains, which told of unfathomable sorrow and hopeless despair. The keen agony that the music expressed seemed to oppress the audience, and many of them wept unrestrainedly. Lillie and Miss Acton, feeling certain that the “Study” was Philip’s own composition, and was the musical expression of his own thoughts, shrank to the back of the box to conceal their convulsive weeping. Marion kept her place, but even she lifted her handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. She could hardly feel ashamed of her emotion when she saw the impulsive and music-loving duchess opposite sobbing like a child; but no one is all evil, and perhaps the music really touched what was good and genuine in her nature, and elevated her for the time above the arrogance that made her unlovely in spite of all her grace and beauty.