against a window-pane. And the change would
never come. She and Fritz--what could they ever be but a successful
couple known in a certain world and never moving beyond its orbit?

Perhaps for the first time the longing that she had often expressed
in her singing, obedient to poet and composer, invaded her own soul.
Without music she was what with music she had often seemed to be--a
creature of wayward and romantic desires, a yearning spirit, a soaring
flame.

At that moment she could have sung better than she had ever sung.

On the programme the names of her songs did not appear. They were
represented by the letters A and B. She had not decided yet what she
would sing. But now, moved by feeling to the longing for some action in
which she might express it, she resolved to sing something in which she
could at least flutter the wings she longed to free, something in
which the angel could lift its voice, something that would delight
the believers in the angel and be as far removed from Miss Schley's
imitations as possible.

After a time she chose two songs. One was English, by a young composer,
and was called "Away." It breathed something of the spirit of the East.
The man who had written it had travelled much in the East, had drawn
into his lungs the air, into his nostrils the perfume, into his soul
the meaning of desert places. There was distance in his music. There
was mystery. There was the call of the God of Gold who lives in the sun.
There was the sound of feet that travel. The second song she chose was
French. The poem was derived from a writing of Jalalu'd dinu'r Rumi, and
told this story.

One day a man came to knock upon the door of the being he loved. A voice
cried from within the house, "_Qui est la_?" "_C'est moi_!" replied
the man. There was a pause. Then the voice answered, "This house cannot
shelter us both together." Sadly the lover went away, went into the
great solitude, fasted and prayed. When a long year had passed he came
once more to the house of the one he loved, and struck again upon
the door. The voice from within cried, "_Qui est la_?" "_C'est toi_!"
whispered the lover. Then the door was opened swiftly and he passed in
with outstretched arms.

Having decided that she would sing these two songs, Lady Holme sat down
to go through them at the piano. Just as she struck the first chord of
the desert song a footman came in to know whether she was at home to
Lady Cardington. She answered "Yes." I