great
possession.

Something within her lived the song very fully and completely. For once
she did not think at all of what effect she was making. She was not
unconscious of the audience. She was acutely conscious of the presence
of people, and of individuals whom she knew; of Fritz, of Lady
Cardington, Sir Donald, even of poor, horrible Rupert Carey. But with
the unusual consciousness was linked a strange indifference, a sense
of complete detachment. And this enabled her to live simultaneously two
lives--Lady Holme's and another's. Who was the other? She did not ask,
but she felt as if in that moment a prisoner within her was released.
And yet, directly the song was over and the eager applause broke out, a
bitterness came into her heart. Her sense, banished for the moment,
of her own personality and circumstances returned upon her, and that
"_C'est toi_!" of the educated heart seemed suddenly an irony as she
looked at Fritz's face. Had any lover gone into the desert for her,
fasted and prayed for her, learned for her sake the right answer to the
ceaseless question that echoes in every woman's heart?

The pianist modulated, struck the chord of a new key, paused, then broke
into a languid, honey-sweet prelude. Lady Holme sang the Italian song
which had made Lady Cardington cry.

Afterwards, she often thought of her singing of that particular song on
that particular occasion as people think of the frail bridges that span
the gulfs between one fate and another. And it seemed to her that
while she was crossing this bridge, that was a song, she had a faint
premonition of the land that lay before her on the far side of the gulf.
She did not see clearly any features of the landscape, but surely she
saw that it was different from all that she had known. Perhaps she
deceived herself. Perhaps she fancied that she had divined something
that was in reality hidden from her. One thing, however, is
certain--that she made a very exceptional effect upon her audience. Many
of them, when later they heard of an incident that occurred within a
very short time, felt almost awestricken for a moment. It seemed to them
that they had been visited by one of the messengers--the forerunners of
destiny--that they had heard a whispering voice say, "Listen well! This
is the voice of the Future singing."

Many people in London on the following day said, "We felt in her singing
that something extraordinary must be going to happen to her." And some