September, 1933
304
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
ately: “ I can’t ! I ’m all tied up in knots of unbelief! It’s better for me to go, R a y ! It’s better for me to g o ! You will be happier and truer to your principles when you are free. If you had been the Christian formerly that you are now, you would never have chosen m e !” Geraldine Villiars did not know that in her emotion she had broken off the laurel leaf and was carrying it in her hand. In a few seconds, she had stepped into her waiting car and had sunk wearily into the depths of the richly upholstered seat, with her maid at her side. “ Talk to me, Ferna!” she demanded excitedly. “ Tell me one o f your funny stories.” “ O Miss Geraldine!” said the girl, fearfully, disre garding her mistress’ demand, “ I wish you’d throw that laurel leaf away ! I believe it is a sign of something.” ! “ Don’t be foolish, Ferna!” answered Geraldine, with a determined laugh. “ Don’t you know enough to believe the laurel is an emblem of dignity? You heard the sermon today? The minister said we had to die to this alluring world before we could live for the heavenly world. He said we had to die to se lf!” “ I ’m afraid I didn’t listen much to the sermon, but he was very earnest, I know.” “ You are very wicked, Ferna!” laughed her mistress. “ But I ’ve made up my mind to plant this leaf, and you’ve got to water it every day. I believe it takes a long time to root. I ’ve been told it shrivels up and dies before a sprout appears.” “ I wish you’d throw it away; I don’t like it !” “ Fear not, Ferna. W e ’ll soon be living in the great metropolis, and I ’m going to be gay. I ’ll sing— sing the world to my feet! Do you know what Senor Ampella said about my voice, Ferna? He said I was created for grand opera! And, oh, I love it! I ’m so glad I was created for it.” “ But, Miss Geraldine, what about your father and mother— and Mr. Ashley? I thought surely there was an understanding— ” “ Careful there, Mr. Jones!” interrupted Miss Villiars imperiously to the chauffeur, who was speeding at the risk o f a fine. “ And,” she added, turning to the girl at her side, “ you can be careful also!” “ I didn’t mean to overstep my position, Miss,” said the girl humbly. “ I ’ve known you since you were a wee girl, and I’m anxious about you. I wish you’d quit grand opera and go home to Cloverdale. The grass will soon be green and the trees budding, and your father and mother are lonesome; they’d like to hear your sweet voice singing to them, Miss Jerry.” Geraldine’s face became suddenly tender and her eyes moist with tears. Ferna had unwittingly bridged the distance by her simple words bringing to mind a picture of the old homestead nestling in the pines, with its velvety lawn rolling out in front; and o f the father and mother who had been overindulgent to their only daughter, and who were waiting for her return. She allowed her mind to travel down the home road to the immortal old brown schoolhouse and to the old white church near by. It was there she had first met Raymond Ashley in his student days. He had preached his first sermon in that little church, and she had sung in the choir—an attractive nominal Christian. A fter this a wealthy uncle, without any family o f his own, had offered to give his brother’s child the best education that could be offered her, while she lived in his great city home. She gladly accepted the “ pleasures o f Egypt,” and God sent leanness into her young soul. For a full minute the Spirit o f God hovered over her sealed heart, and again she could hear the prayerful notes o f a man’s rich, baritone voice singing, “ Take the world, but give me Jesus.”
Could she give it up? She shivered, and then pulling her robes more closely around her, she took her scented lace handkerchief and rubbed the misty window that she might better see the glitter and glare of the streets. It was all so exciting, so sportive and alluring— could she give it up? She thought of the overcrowded church full o f people, mostly poor, and o f Raymond spending his life ministering to such, and again she shivered. “ Ferna,” she said, speaking her mind aloud, “ I was never cut out to live in unrefined surroundings. I hate such conditions. I ’m going to enjoy the best environment, and I ’m going to be the leading star o f grand opera.” At the end o f that same year, Geraldine Villiars’ deter mination had become a living reality. She had made one o f the greatest successes in operatic history. The recep tion she met with was almost unparalleled, and she had become a world figure in grand opera. * * * * * Late one Saturday night, Raymond Ashley arose from his knees after preparing for the coming Sunday’s ser vices, and stood looking out at the roofs o f the moonlit houses around him. From one house the distant sounds o f music caused him to move slowly across his study to a radio set, with ear tubes lying long unused upon a shelf in a corner o f his room. He sat down in his study chair, clasped the little instruments upon his ears, and immedi ately he heard a woman’s voice trilling like the notes o f a bird for very sweetness. She possessed the rare gift o f a pure, lyric, soprano voice, and her singing was followed by a wild outburst o f applause from an audience that had become wearied with ordinary operatic singing. Geraldine Villiars was taking the role o f Leonora in La Ferga del Destino. Raymond sat motionless, listening to the voice that was stirring the heart o f the musical world. He quietly laid those small instruments aside and again fell upon his knees. Into the morning hour he prayed for the soul o f the singer—and while he prayed for her, Geraldine, many miles away, stood wavering. She drew her rich opera cloak around her and looked at the Beau Brummel waiting impatiently to escort her to a gay supper party. She could scarcely understand her sudden revulsion o f feeling against the whole party, and her words sounded strange to her own ears. „ “ No, I cannot possibly go with you. It is almost Sab bath morning, and I feel that I should not go.” “ But you promised me,” said the man with sudden anger, and the smell o f wine was on his breath. “ Some promises are better for the breaking,” Geral dine answered decidedly, turning away from him. She returned to her apartment, her nerves and brain racked with overwork and excitement. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she knew a sleepless night was before her unless she used an opiate.
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