THE 
 
 DOMINANT SEVENTH 
 
 A MUSICAL STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 KATE ELIZABETH CLARK 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1890
 
 C2<f 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1890, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 "OuR existence in life is a continued alternating of 
 desires and gratifications. The will is forever wanting, 
 and it strives continually to gratify its wants. We 
 really know but two states while in the body the state 
 of want and the state of satisfaction; the conditions of 
 desire and gratification. Analogous to this, music has 
 but two leading chords, from which all others are de 
 rived. These are the tonic chord and the dominant 
 chord of the seventh. The first is a chord of rest and 
 calmness, the second is a chord of unrest, of longing 
 and striving. Music is a continued succession of these 
 two chords, and in this is represented our never-ceasing 
 desires as followed by gratification. Thus the composer 
 reveals the inmost condition of our souls ; he speaks the 
 greatest truth, and speaks it in a language which reason 
 comprehends not, but a language which is understood 
 alike by all men the world over." SCHOPENHAUER.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " THAT first violin iss sick once more ahgen," 
 said Karl Klinder, pushing aside the mahogany- 
 colored portiere at the door of the McChesneys 
 music-room, where an amateur club met for weekly 
 practice. 
 
 He spoke with the careful accent and precise 
 pronunciation that mark the ambitious German 
 who desires to be considered a true American citi 
 zen. A language, however, being like beauty 
 more satisfactory as an inheritance than as an 
 acquisition, and requiring, moreover, for its perfect 
 development abstinence from all demoralizing in 
 fluences, it is not surprising that the worthy Karl, 
 who rendered faithful homage to the beer-garden 
 and the New York Musicians Protective Union, 
 should still remain to attentive ears, as well as 
 observant eyes, a German citizen. In view of his 
 announcement, made with Teutonic gravity and a 
 quizzical glance over the top of his spectacles, he
 
 6 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 had dispensed with the small formality of an even 
 ing greeting. Xo one, apparently, noticed the 
 omission. 
 
 " Bless me ! no ; it s impossible that s the 
 sixth violinist who has failed us this year ! Where 
 can we find a seventh at this late hour everything 
 ready for the concert. We ought to get a dominant 
 seventh this time " (Karl Klinder gave two or three 
 little appreciative nods) " in order to have any suc 
 cess at all. Where, where shall we find him? 
 Well, well!" 
 
 Mr. McChesney, who had begun with consider 
 ably energy, added the last two words in a waver 
 ing tone of resignation. He had come forward as 
 he spoke, carrying his viola in his hand. He had 
 just taken it from an antique Flemish cabinet, or 
 rather cupboard, which stood at one end of the 
 room and seemed to frown in dignified protest at 
 the frivolity of an airily draped French window at 
 the other. In his surprise Mr. McChesney left 
 the wide doors swinging open to their full extent, 
 thus revealing a number of musical instruments 
 resting against a dark-green-cloth background. 
 Here were a guitar, a banjo, an old-fashioned lute 
 with its faded blue ribbon, a silver flute, a clari 
 net, a cornet, and two violoncellos one of the long 
 Stradivarius pattern, like that which once belonged 
 to Mara, and the other an amber-colored Foster 
 violoncello of the elegant Amati outline. This
 
 TOE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 7 
 
 violoncello had a mellow, powerful tone, and was 
 the special delight of Karl Klinder, who made 
 use of it upon some rare occasions when particu 
 lar depth of feeling was demanded in his solos. 
 On the three shelves below this assortment slept 
 in their coffin-like boxes some valuable violins 
 a wonderful Amati ; a Caspar di Salo, with its 
 deep brown varnish and its S S holes, straight, 
 well cut, and parallel ; an early Antoine Stradi- 
 varius, its warm, yellowish varnish still holding the 
 impenetrable secret of its composition ; a Joseph 
 Guarnerius, gently arched and daintily curved ; a 
 Gagliano ; a Bergonzi ; and one of our modern 
 but hardly less sweet Gemunders. These violins 
 and other instruments in the Flemish cupboard 
 formed but a small part of his collection, which 
 embraced many examples of ancient instruments, 
 both wind and stringed, and was especially rich in 
 the fine inlaid work and richly carved cases of the 
 eighteenth century makers. It was a collection 
 known to all connoisseurs as unique and almost 
 priceless in value. 
 
 Hugh McChesney had certainly made fairly 
 good use of his wealth and leisure during the 
 thirty years that had elapsed since his Harvard Col 
 lege days. The collection of musical instruments 
 was not the only evidence of his dilettanteism ; 
 his musical library was replete with those stained 
 and time-worn MSS. in which the great musicians
 
 6 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 had dispensed with the small formality of an even 
 ing greeting. Xo one, apparently, noticed the 
 omission. 
 
 " Bless me ! no ; it s impossible that s the 
 sixth violinist who has failed us this year ! Where 
 can we find a seventh at this late hour everything 
 ready for the concert. We ought to get a dominant 
 seventh this time " (Karl Klinder gave two or three 
 little appreciative nods) " in order to have any suc 
 cess at all. Where, where shall we find him? 
 Well, well!" 
 
 Mr. McChesney, who had begun with consider 
 ably energy, added the last two words in a waver 
 ing tone of resignation. He had come forward as 
 he spoke, carrying his viola in his hand. lie had 
 just taken it from an antique Flemish cabinet, or 
 rather cupboard, which stood at one end of the 
 room and seemed to frown in dignified protest at 
 the frivolity of an airily draped French window at 
 the other. In his surprise Mr. McChesney left 
 the wide doors swinging open to their full extent, 
 thus revealing a number of musical instruments 
 resting against a dark-green-cloth background. 
 Here were a guitar, a banjo, an old-fashioned lute 
 with its faded blue ribbon, a silver flute, a clari 
 net, a cornet, and two violoncellos one of the long 
 Stradivarius pattern, like that which once belonged 
 to Mara, and the other an amber-colored Foster 
 violoncello of the elegant Amati outline. This
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. Y 
 
 violoncello had a mellow, powerful tone, and was 
 the special delight of Karl Klinder, who made 
 use of it upon some rare occasions when particu 
 lar depth of feeling was demanded in his solos. 
 On the three shelves below this assortment slept 
 in their coffin-like boxes some valuable violins 
 a wonderful Amatl; a Gaspar di Salo, with its 
 deep brown varnish and its S S holes, straight, 
 well cut, and parallel ; an early Antoine Stradi- 
 varius, its warm, yellowish varnish still holding the 
 impenetrable secret of its composition ; a Joseph 
 Guarnerius, gently arched and daintily curved ; a 
 Gagliano ; a Bergonzi ; and one of our modern 
 but hardly less sweet Gemiinders. These violins 
 and other instruments in the Flemish cupboard 
 formed but a small part of his collection, which 
 embraced many examples of ancient instruments, 
 both wind and stringed, and was especially rich in 
 the fine inlaid work and richly carved cases of the 
 eighteenth century makers. It was a collection 
 known to all connoisseurs as unique and almost 
 priceless in value. 
 
 Hugh McChesney had certainly made fairly 
 good use of his wealth and leisure during the 
 thirty years that had elapsed since his Harvard Col 
 lege days. The collection of musical instruments 
 Avas not the only evidence of his dilettanteism ; 
 his musical library was replete with those stained 
 and time-worn MSS. in which the great musicians
 
 8 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 had stored their immortal thoughts; his small, 
 well-lighted gallery was hung with excellent exam 
 ples of different schools of painting ; and his long, 
 low library, with its stained-glass windows and 
 book-lined walls, revealed, even to the casual ob 
 server who glanced along the crowded shelves, a 
 man of liberal views as well as a man of refined 
 and even esthetic tastes. He might best be de 
 scribed perhaps to a musician by the instrument 
 he preferred the viola ; he was mild, though 
 firm, and somewhat inclined to melancholy, with 
 certain tendencies to timidity. Though not self- 
 assertive in the least, he conveyed to those who 
 knew him well an impression of reserved power, an 
 impression which they seldom had the satisfaction 
 of seeing justified. The atmosphere always sur 
 rounding him was that of kindness ; children 
 and animals were particularly attracted to him ; 
 men liked him unless they were coarse natured, 
 when his refinement and purity of thought acted 
 upon them paradoxically like a counter-irritant ; 
 women adored him with that calm friendliness 
 and confidence which generally precludes the pos 
 sibility of deeper emotion. He was squarely and 
 sturdily built, somewhat muscular, and the dis 
 tinguishing feature of his face was a pair of liquid 
 brown eyes whose darkness seemed intensified by 
 the iron-gray hair and mustache. He dressed 
 with more regard to comfort than to fashion, for
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 9 
 
 he believed that clothes were made for man rather 
 than man for clothes. He stood in the center of 
 the room, and, still facing Karl Klinder, anxious 
 ly asked : 
 
 " But what is "to become of our quartet? The 
 concert is to come off next week. The tickets are 
 all sold. And to bring in, at the last moment, a 
 professional whose theories in regard to the quartet 
 may be entirely different from ours, whose inter 
 pretation we may be compelled to follow after we 
 have studied our own so carefully why, bless me, 
 it s not to be thought of! Here we have spent 
 weeks of labor in acquiring the happy medium 
 between the old classical interpretation and the 
 new Wagnerian intensity of emotional expression. 
 What can be done ? The situation is is well 
 really it is exasperating. Will he not be able to 
 come to another rehearsal if not to this one ? " 
 
 Karl Klinder shook his bullet head dubiously, 
 and, grasping his cello tenderly by the neck, pro 
 ceeded to carry it to a safe corner of the music- 
 room, where he set it down without removing its 
 outer cover of waterproof or its inner dress of soft 
 green flannel. Then he deposited himself with 
 vigor in a straight, high-backed chair, and re 
 marked deliberately : 
 
 " He hass shills ahgen. lie gomplains wit 
 them some time since hlately." 
 
 " Diablo ! Peste soit d l ignorant ! " broke in a
 
 10 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 voice from near the piano where a man stood al 
 ternately striking A and E while he tuned his 
 violin. " If he has malaria there is little chance of 
 his regeneration in time for our concert. It is 
 the one thing that blows away all sense of duty 
 and propriety and leaves a man one vast sickly 
 interrogation point. As for his music, let us give 
 it up at once. He could only play Schumann s 
 Why or that antique obituary-canvas-sampler, 
 Mendelssohn s Eesignation. " 
 
 " Perhaps if you had a tiny soupcon of malaria, 
 yourself, Emil, your interpretation of certain mu 
 sical movements might be better," said Philip Mc- 
 Chesney, a tall, dark-eyed young man, leaning 
 over the end of the grand piano. 
 
 " Eh, bien ! I know you don t altogether like 
 my sentiment in the andantes, adagios, and largos 
 of our symphonies and sonatas, but it is because I 
 express in them a natural reaction against this 
 Xew Jersey malarial atmosphere sentimentally 
 damp or dam-p-dly sentimental. Why do you live 
 here at all ? Was New Jersey ever celebrated for 
 anything but peaches and mosquitoes ? " 
 
 " Gently, gently, Emil," interrupted Philip Mc- 
 Chesney ; " Jersey has one other merit it gives you 
 shelter from a Russian prison. We don t object 
 to your criticism, but give the devil his due. And 
 permit me to doubt, mon ami, whether, even if you 
 should have malaria, you would then be able to
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH H 
 
 wail with proper feeling, or to bring out delicately 
 any phrase of deep heart-longing, unless it might 
 be some expression of your desire to see the Czar 
 biting the dust. But give you a movement where 
 you can represent a dance of Xihilists around a 
 toppling palace interjections of dynamite ad lib 
 itum there and then you can outrival Eemenyi s 
 most frenzied improvisations. Your playing is all 
 very Avell in Eubinstein and Tschaikowsky, but 
 not quite the thing in a Beethoven adagio. Per 
 haps it s just as well though to have a revolutionary 
 spirit among us, otherwise we steady-going citizens 
 might become threads of attenuated sweetness. 
 By a wise dispensation of Providence enters Ka- 
 linski anarchy, dismay, colored fire, death to 
 rulers ! " 
 
 " You seem to measure your wit by rule, mon 
 enfant," said Emil quickly. 
 
 " Xo, by rote ; the pen of history is my divin 
 ing-rod," answered Philip, pressing his hand to his 
 heart and bowing with exaggerated courtesy. 
 
 " Yotre tres-humble serviteur, monsieur," said 
 Emil, straightening himself and giving a military 
 salute with his violin. 
 
 The two men presented a striking contrast. 
 Emil Kalinski was undersized, with long body, 
 short legs, large head, dark bushy whiskers parted 
 in the middle and brushed to stand out from the 
 face. lie had, moreover, a large mouth with full
 
 12 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 red lips which ordinarily remained slightly open 
 over gleaming and rather projecting teeth. Philip 
 McChesney, on the contrary, was built like his 
 father, with the exception of being taller and more 
 slender. He had, too, a longer nose and brighter 
 eyes and possessed that greater elasticity and hope 
 fulness of bearing that usually distinguishes youth 
 from middle age. His face was refined and 
 thoughtful and his every movement graceful. 
 Equally striking was the mental contrast between 
 these two men. Emil, born in Russia and accus 
 tomed during his youth to the morbid atmosphere 
 of secret, sympathy with Xihilism, educated in 
 France and imbued there with the strongest com 
 munistic sentiments, displayed in his conversa 
 tion a curious mixture of dogged bitterness, re 
 serve, and suspicion, and sullen egotism, but thinly 
 veiled by a superficial polish and vivacity. Philip 
 was the soul of frankness and honor and good fel 
 lowship, and, inheriting from his mother a keen 
 sense of humor, he was inclined to look at the 
 cheerful side of existence. His greatest fault was 
 an easy-going disposition that led him to put him 
 self on terms of comradeship with all varieties of 
 men. Between him and Kalinski existed a warm 
 friendship ; although indeed a suspicion now and 
 then crossed Philip s mind that Kalinski had not 
 an overkeen sense of honor and that he might be 
 capable under temptation of sinking virtue in self-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 13 
 
 interest. Nevertheless, he tried to thrust away such 
 unwelcome thoughts even when a chance remark, 
 like a ray of light let suddenly into a darkened 
 room, revealed the unwelcome possibilities of Ka- 
 linski s nature. 
 
 While Philip and Emil continued their passage 
 at arms by the piano, Mr. McChesney and Karl 
 Klinder were carrying on a serious discussion, 
 which ended when Mr. McChesney turned to 
 Philip, and said : 
 
 " Well, my son, there is no way out of the pres 
 ent difficulty but for you to work up this violin 
 part. By practicing night and day you may be 
 able to do it. If it were not for these private the 
 atricals, nonsensical germans, and the superfluity 
 of pretty girls here, you might have been a fine 
 violinist by this time. At any rate, try the part. 
 You have heard it often enough to have a right 
 conception of it." 
 
 "All right, for once, paternus," answered Philip, 
 smoothing a slight wrinkle in the shoulder of his 
 well-fitting dress-coat, and then conveying the 
 white carnation from his button-hole to a vase of 
 cameo-glass filled with roses. " I will give my 
 valuable aid until the carriage comes at half-past 
 nine o clock. Aux armes, citoyens ! 
 
 Gather the notes in while ye may, 
 Old Time is still a-flying."
 
 14: THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 Philip seized his violin as he spoke and com 
 pelled the unoffending instrument to execute a 
 series of discordant shrieks in harmony with the 
 feelings of his listeners. After this ebullition he 
 sat down quietly to prepare for the serious work 
 before him. 
 
 The rehearsal proceeded fairly for a time. 
 They were playing Beethoven s E flat major quar 
 tet, op. 127. The opening chords, " maestoso," 
 the allegro, even the first part of the noble adagio 
 whose penetrating sweetness and deep feeling 
 touches even an unmusical heart, met with not 
 entirely unworthy treatment at the hands of these 
 enthusiastic amateurs, but alas for the syncopations, 
 the delicate trills, the groups of thirty-second 
 notes that should sway and sigh as lightly as vine 
 leaves on a trellis ! 
 
 " Quarter of a tone off and scratchy at that," 
 said Mr. McChesney, laying down his viola when 
 Philip struck the high A flat in the closing meas 
 ures of the andante con moto. 
 
 " It is a shame to murder such a glorious move 
 ment," Philip remarked mournfully. " I fed it all. 
 Why will not the mind control the muscles?" 
 
 " It might if you exercised both sufficiently," 
 said Mr. McChesney grimly. 
 
 " I call that mean, paternus, to hit a man when 
 he s already down in his boots. However, I have 
 some coals of fire for Newcastle I know a man
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 15 
 
 who, I think, will help us. Go on practicing, and 
 I will bring him if possible. There is the car 
 riage, now." 
 
 Philip seized his carefully preserved carnation, 
 pinned it again in his button-hole, and went out 
 of the room. 
 
 " But who is it you propose to introduce in 
 this unceremonious fashion ? " Mr. McChesney 
 called after Philip. 
 
 " Oh, lie s all right," replied Philip, coming 
 back to the door with his overcoat on. " I heard 
 him at the De Peysters in New York last week. 
 lie has come out here to board for the winter, as 
 he likes quiet. And he ll certainly get enough of 
 it. Suburban Xew Jersey towns don t offer alarm 
 ing opportunities for hilarious dissipation mild 
 sociables, spasmodic teas, church-fairs, and mis 
 sionary jug-breakings, with a sprinkling of euchre- 
 parties and a climax of an occasional german. 
 Pah!" 
 
 Mr. McChesney looked benignantly at his son. 
 " Philip, my boy, you are a weather-vane. How 
 long is it since you defended Jersey against Ka- 
 linski ? " 
 
 " Et tu, Socrate ! Whether vain or not vain, 
 at least I m not a-spire-ing enough to reach your 
 philosophic height." And Philip hastened off, 
 leaving his father smiling and shaking his head 
 at this parting shot.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PHILIP sped on his way with little doubt of 
 the success of his mission. He had a strong 
 belief in the general kindly spirit of musicians 
 toward each other, notwithstanding the fact that 
 they have been so long compelled to appear in 
 public as esthetic scapegoats for the ill-tempers 
 common to all humanity. Philip had found, like 
 many others who investigate for themselves, that 
 there exists among musicians, particularly the bet 
 ter class of professionals and amateurs, a sympa 
 thy whereby they appreciate at once each other s 
 wants and needs, and which renders them suffi 
 ciently alive to direful musical possibilities to 
 step forward graciously when awkward gaps are 
 to be filled. It is only the penny-a-liner, so to 
 speak, of the musical world, who plays the part 
 of Jupiter nodding to mortals, and who leaves his 
 petitioner dubious as to his intentions on the ap 
 pointed evening. Your true, sensitive musical gen 
 ius will respond if possible to the call of a brother 
 in distress with that gentle courtesy that doubles 
 the obligation while disclaiming any.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 17 
 
 Philip s expectations were fully justified. Sign- 
 or Ferrauti was at home and, after listening to 
 Philip s explanation, expressed his willingness to 
 attend the rehearsal. He donned a fur-lined 
 overcoat and slouch hat, under which his yellow 
 face and large black eyes assumed a softer aspect, 
 took his violin, which he told Philip had been pre 
 sented to him by a well-known connoisseur in Paris 
 and was worth at least five thousand dollars, and 
 without further delay entered the carriage. Con 
 versation flagged ; for Philip received but mono 
 syllabic answers to his good-natured questions. 
 The night was clear. There was a full moon. A 
 high wind blew, driving fragments of clouds over 
 the sky fragments tinged whenever they drifted 
 across the moon Avith yellow opaline luster. The 
 trees, to which still clung a few withering leaves, 
 like the last faint hopes that cling to the heart of 
 an aged man, took on a blue-gray tint under the 
 pallid light and fitfully swayed to and fro as the 
 carriage rolled up the long winding drive that led 
 up hill to Strathcarron. An irregular stone dwell 
 ing crowned the top of the hill, and from the front 
 of this dwelling a magnificent lawn swept cheer 
 fully and expansively away, its gentle slope dotted 
 in summer with beds of brilliant flowers, groups 
 of tropical plants, and well-clipped cedars and 
 pines. A rustic bridge crossed a dashing little 
 stream that ran some distance to the right, and 
 2
 
 18 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 off some distance to the left a trout-pond was 
 half visible under its protecting hedge of willows 
 and low bushes. Ferranti woke from his reverie 
 to remark upon the beauty of the place. 
 
 " It is like an old English mansion," said he, 
 noting the turrets at the corners, the high tower 
 rising in the center, and the Doric pillars that 
 supported a generous portico. 
 
 "Yes; the main body of the house was built 
 by my grandfather to resemble the early home 
 of his wife, who was an Englishwoman of some 
 rank ; but it has received several additions since. 
 The music-room is on the right side of the house, 
 and extends through to another long piazza on the 
 back ; and out of the music-room opens a small 
 conservatory which is my sister s special delight. 
 In the music-room we have been fortunate enough 
 to hear some of the best musicians in the world : 
 Ole Bull, Eemenyi, Wieniawski, Musin, that best 
 of classic artists Wilhelmj, and any number of the 
 great pianists Mme. Essipoff, Madeleine Schiller, 
 Joseffy, and our latest American acquisition, Adele 
 Aus der Ohe. And it is a curious fact that in a 
 private music-room, and surrounded only by the 
 appreciative few, they have generally played with 
 even more fire and feeling than in a public 
 hall." 
 
 " That may well be true," answered Ferranti. 
 " The best music I have heard lately was in the
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 19 
 
 small salon in Paris where Saint Saens entertains 
 his music-loving friends." 
 
 As they stepped out of the carriage the open 
 ing strains of the Gade trio in F major floated 
 to their ears and seemed to fill the air with spring 
 like joyous freshness. 
 
 "Who plays the piano?" asked Ferranti 
 abruptly, taking off his hat. 
 
 "My sister Flora," Philip answered. Ferranti 
 stood still for a moment and, as if unconscious of 
 a listener, repeated a line from Dante, " Quando 
 ti giovera dicera io fui." He then turned and 
 walked slowly to one end of the piazza and stood 
 motionless, evidently impressed with the beauty of 
 the scene. In the distance rose the church-spires ; 
 a low range of hills melted into the dark clouds 
 along the horizon line; here and there lights 
 gleamed from the windows of the houses below ; 
 and, over all, the moon and clouds threw an ever- 
 shifting network of light and shade. All was 
 quiet, domestic, and American, save Ferranti him 
 self who, with his loose long cloak, his bare head, 
 and his sharp, strong features accentuated by a 
 sudden flood of moonlight, brought to Philip s 
 mind flitting visions of Koman senators, Socratic 
 philosophers, Italian banditti, and Spanish cava 
 liers. 
 
 As Philip unlocked the door with his latch 
 key and stood back to let Ferranti step over the
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FEW men of artistic temperament could fail to 
 be affected by the sweet womanliness of Flora 
 McChesney, combined as it was with an almost 
 masculine directness of thought and a swiftness of 
 comprehension that made her one of the most 
 charming companions in the world. To see her 
 hazel eyes gleam with a quick perception of the 
 speaker s coming thought offered an irresistible 
 source of pleasure to men of intellect and taste ; 
 and even the taciturn were moved in her pres 
 ence to express themselves with ease and freedom. 
 She was never called beautiful, save in those rare 
 moments of excitement when a brilliant color lent 
 to her pale face the rosy light of youth. Her feat 
 ures were rather large and not over- finely mod 
 eled ; but the mouth that feature for which one 
 is most directly responsible was sweet and firm. 
 A slender, willowy figure made her appear younger 
 than her twenty-six years. Two peculiarities were 
 always first noted by strangers one, the mass of 
 fluffy golden hair which crowned a we 11- shaped 
 head, each hair seemingly endowed with a separate
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 23 
 
 will of its own ; the other, the large, flexible hands, 
 with fingers capable of bending backward and for 
 ward with equal facility. The size of her hand did 
 not at all disturb Flora McChesney, for this de 
 fect was balanced in her eyes by the ease with 
 which in her piano-playing she compassed abnor 
 mal stretches and obtained superior orchestral 
 effects. She was a well-read woman, capable of 
 understanding the scientific researches of Lub- 
 bock and the lines of thought pursued by Darwin, 
 Huxley, and Spencer, and not above enjoying the 
 insouciance and freshness of some second or even 
 third-rate novels of the day. Indeed, this recre 
 ation she held to be a necessity, and considered 
 that any woman of broad culture must know all 
 currents of thought of her time and must compre 
 hend the amusements of the many as well as the 
 interests of the few. 
 
 In music she was no less catholic in her tastes ; 
 not finding Offenbach and Strauss unbearable be 
 cause Beethoven and Wagner are sublime, but 
 looking upon them all as ministers of grace who 
 preach not unworthily of that whereof each one 
 knows. This general appreciativeness which did 
 not seem to interfere with the preservation of her 
 high ideals became still more noticeable when one 
 observed her social relations. Hence it was not 
 surprising that her admirers were only limited by 
 the number of her acquaintances. The violinists
 
 24 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 invariably succumbed audibly or with secret sighs, 
 according to the stability of previous anchorage, 
 to her attractions ; while of other admirers might 
 be named, almost at random, a lean flutist, two cel 
 lists, both stout and red, a zither artist, a doctor 
 with a good practice, besides three artists, an en 
 thusiastic bibliophile, and a scientific man who 
 wished to add her, as she declared, to his unique 
 collection of butterflies. Few among the musi 
 cians, however, had ventured to come to the 
 point of offering their full hearts and empty 
 pockets to a divinity who hedged herself about 
 with an atmosphere of such cold reserve, and who 
 looked upon love as an epidemic : not necessarily 
 fatal. 
 
 From the library, across the hall and opposite 
 the music room, Flora listened to the new violin 
 ist. She heard his preliminary suggestions in a 
 rich, mellow voice ; then the opening chord of E 
 flat, forte ; the light, firm, staccato repetition ; 
 then the dominant seventh, sforzato ; so on, as the 
 instruments swept to the tenderly strong allegro. 
 The master spirit gradually made itself manifest, 
 animated the other players, and bent them to its 
 own will. Heavens ! what fire and spirit flamed 
 into this new reading ! The old interpretation 
 was forgotten. Phrase after phrase came out with 
 new and dramatic meaning. The grand epic force 
 of Beethoven, the concentrated energy with which
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 25 
 
 he drew from human life its mysterious secrets 
 its wild despair, its bitter grief, its tender affec 
 tion, its ever-springing hope and brought them 
 into noble relationship through his divine har 
 monies, which drop the balm of peace over the 
 listener s heart, and rise in triumphant majesty 
 to meet the bending stars, these received from 
 Ferranti the perfect recognition of a truly musical 
 soul. 
 
 The usual tempo quite forgotten, the players 
 hurried with repressed excitement through the 
 staccatos and the swinging triplets of the final 
 allegro con moto. As with increasing impetu 
 osity they reached the end, Flora drew near 
 the door of the music room and stood there 
 quietly, her pale face and yellow hair thrown 
 out in strong relief by the dark velvet folds of 
 the portiere that fell in heavy masses on either 
 side. She looked straight at Ferranti, and when 
 the last dominant seventh chord, followed by the 
 tonic, brought the movement to an end, she said 
 eagerly : 
 
 " That is the way Beethoven would have played 
 it had he lived to-day, had he been familiar with 
 our own modern life." 
 
 Ferranti lifted his head, lowered his violin, 
 and gazed at her dreamily, as if bringing him 
 self back with difficulty to the world of real 
 life.
 
 26 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " Yes, that is the way, I think." 
 
 The others sat as though stupefied by their 
 own unexpected power. Their eyes were fixed 
 upon the sallow, impassive face, which bore no 
 trace of emotion. Mr. McChesney held out his 
 hand and warmly shook that of the violinist. 
 Karl Klinder wiped his spectacles. Kalinski 
 mopped his forehead excitedly. 
 
 " Is there anything more ? " said Ferranti, ris 
 ing. Mr. McChesney rose also. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not. There was a sonata for 
 piano and violin on our programme, but " And 
 he hesitated. 
 
 Flora came forward. " Oh, we must play it, 
 father." A bright red spot came to either cheek 
 as she began to look for the music. 
 
 "What is it?" said Ferranti. "Ah, a Raff 
 sonata, that Fiinfte Grosste, a fifth monument 
 to his industry dry bones that rattle correctly 
 enough in obedience to the showman s jerking- 
 string. But to be just, some of Raff s composi 
 tions are lovely; it is only when he insists on 
 working a poor idea through forty pages of f ugal 
 and contrapuntal variations that he becomes so 
 tiresome. Do you know the suite opus 210 ? That 
 is a charming piece of work." 
 
 " Yes," said Flora. 
 
 " But whom do you like best of the modern 
 composers ? Rubinstein ? I thought so. Let us
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 27 
 
 run over one of his sonatas. Which shall it 
 be?" 
 
 " The G major I am most familiar with," 
 Flora answered, taking the music from the tall 
 ebony rack by the piano. 
 
 Ferranti looked at her with an expression of 
 surprise ; then, as if deterred by some inward 
 thought from expressing any objection, he took 
 the music from her hand and put it slowly upon 
 the stand before him. 
 
 In spite of her own strong will, which made 
 her cling to her wonted interpretation of the so 
 nata, Flora was soon overpowered by the magnet 
 ism of Ferranti. Like the players in the quartet, 
 she lost her own individuality and followed the 
 violinist s thought. By that wonderful sympathy 
 which had always been the distinguishing char 
 acteristic of her accompaniments, she grasped 
 each phrase almost before its enunciation by the 
 violin ; while her own prominent passages came 
 out with startling likeness to the violin tones, 
 rippling, dancing, leaping from the quivering 
 instrument in Ferranti s hands. A moment s 
 pause after the scherzo : another after the brief 
 adagio that opens the finale : then they dash 
 into that free and joyous strain which forms the 
 principal motif of the last movement :
 
 28 
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 Moderate con moto. J - _--; s 
 
 Flora shivered as she began the strain. 
 
 The violin slid into the long D that begins the 
 violin accompaniment, and the piano took up the 
 motif. Flora glanced up in astonishment at Fer- 
 ranti, half turned her head apprehensively, and 
 lost for a moment the rhythm. More and more 
 nervously she moved her long fingers over the 
 sixths, octaves, and elusive arpeggios of the diffi 
 cult accompaniment. Now the rich bass tones of 
 the piano gave out the motif transferred to the 
 key of B flat, now the violin followed ; now f ugally
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 29 
 
 both intertwined ; now through the key of C minor 
 the motif moved with growing pathos ; then in D 
 minor it breathed out its meaning with swelling, 
 sorrowful intensity, like a thought of remembered 
 happiness that fills the aching heart with tears. 
 Flora had grown gradually paler, and at the cli 
 max of the musical emotion the high forte F of 
 the violin she let her hands fall upon the keys 
 with a crashing discord ; sprang up, dashed her 
 right hand into the air as against some repellent 
 object, and gave at the same time a piercing 
 shriek. Her father ran to the piano and grasped 
 her by the arm, while she struggled and cried 
 out : 
 
 " Oh ! send her away ! What is she here for ? 
 Who is she ? " and she looked around the room 
 with dazed eyes. 
 
 " Xo one is here, my child," said Mr. McChes- 
 ney gently. 
 
 " But I saw a terrible face. I felt a thrill of 
 horror when I began that movement, as if some 
 thing dreadful were about to happen ; and while 
 we played that last passage I felt a presence beside 
 me. I looked up and there was that face a 
 woman s face, pale and haggard, with wild, star 
 ing eyes and black hair falling in straggling locks 
 upon the forehead and over the shoulders. The 
 eyes were glittering with fury, and a hand was 
 raised to strike me. Merciful Heavens ! I was so
 
 30 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 frightened. Who was it ? What could it have 
 been?" And she clung trembling to her father s 
 arm. 
 
 " Nothing, I imagine, but nervousness and a 
 vivid imagination," said her father, patting her 
 quietly on the shoulder with his disengaged hand. 
 " We have had too much music to-night, perhaps. 
 You had better sit down a while," directing her 
 unsteady movements to a large brown velvet arm 
 chair near the door. 
 
 Flora sank into the chair and threw her head 
 back, half-closing her eyes. At this moment the 
 old housekeeper, Flora s former nurse, a Scotch 
 woman by birth and a privileged character by 
 merit, came rushing in, her wide cap-border wav 
 ing, a flask of smelling-salts in one hand and a 
 bottle of camphor in the other. 
 
 " Ah, my bit bairnie, what have ye noo ? I 
 heard ye scream and I did na ken were ye mur 
 dered or no." 
 
 Flora put out her hand to grasp that of the 
 old woman, but her face grew whiter. 
 
 " Dinna ye ken she s gaun to faint ? " said Mag 
 gie to the men, who afforded the usual example in 
 such cases of masculine intellects struggling to 
 eliminate the useless factors of logic, law, and 
 precedent from the problem in view, and to make 
 X=What to do. 
 
 " Bring me some cold water," she continued,
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 31 
 
 to Mr. McCliesney, while she rubbed Flora s 
 hands. He hastened to the dining-room, quickly 
 returned with the water, and, according to Mag 
 gie s directions, tried to bathe Flora s forehead. 
 He was awkward, and the water trickled over her 
 face. Karl Klinder, standing ready to be useful, 
 seized Maggie s long, soft, white apron to wipe 
 away the water-drops. " Hoot mon, ye re owre 
 free wi what s no yer ain," said she abruptly ; for 
 no anxiety could make Maggie entirely forgetful 
 of her personal dignity. 
 
 " It is a vay I haf when dhere iss necessity," 
 Karl answered calmly, nevertheless substituting 
 his own red silk handkerchief for the well-protect 
 ed apron. 
 
 Under Maggie s energetic ministrations Flora 
 soon recovered consciousness. " Where is mam 
 ma ? " she asked. 
 
 " The mither didna hear ye, bairnie ; she s in 
 the faraway room wi the laddies. Do ye feel bet 
 ter noo, dearie ? " And the woman pushed back 
 the wet curls from Flora s forehead. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Flora sitting up with an 
 evident effort. " Please do not say anything to 
 mamma. And don t make any more fuss over me, 
 anybody, please. I am only a little upset, that is 
 all. It is absurd for me to be nervous." She 
 gave a little hysterical laugh as she observed the 
 three men gazing at her with solemn earnestness ;
 
 32 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 her father calmly spilling the glass of water, Klin- 
 der holding the red silk handkerchief, and Kalin- 
 ski poising in the air a huge Japanese fan which 
 he had snatched from its place in the hall. Fer- 
 ranti alone remained at the farther end of the 
 room and peering with apparent intentness at the 
 musical instruments in the Flemish cabinet. 
 
 " You really look too funny, " she continued ; 
 " I remind myself of Juno, sitting on a cloud 
 and receiving attentions from the gods." 
 
 " Nae, nae, lassie," broke in Maggie ; " ye ro 
 mair like a modest blue-bell o the mountains than 
 like any o the auld wights who sit aboon the airth 
 and ken naething at all about it, savin to crachit 
 their sels oop wi their ain selfishness." 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is my fate to be always a 
 bit lassie to you, Maggie, and never, never, a 
 stately Juno." Flora spoke affectionately, and 
 leaned upon Maggie s arm while she tried to say 
 good-night with some degree of composure. But 
 the quivering of her lips and her pallor showed 
 the effort that it cost her ; and her self-possession 
 was nearly lost when upon saying " Good-night, 
 Signor Ferranti," he wheeled suddenly about and 
 flashed from his dark eyes an intense questioning 
 glance vividly contrasting with his former as 
 sumption of indifference. After Flora went out 
 Mr. McChesney walked up and down the room a 
 few times, reflectively clasping and unclasping his
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 33 
 
 hands. At length he stopped near Ferranti and 
 remarked in a rather apologetic tone : 
 
 " This is the first evidence of hysterical weak 
 ness I have ever seen in my daughter. She is not 
 of the ordinary feminine emotional type ; she has 
 unusual self-control. I can not understand such 
 a singular freak. It is really quite puzzling." 
 
 Signor Ferranti put down the violin he was 
 examining, and said, somewhat vaguely it seemed 
 to Mr. McChesney : " Positive blondes are gen 
 erally very susceptible to emotional influence, even 
 though they appear to be self-controlled. Nega 
 tive blondes, on the contrary, of the ashen type, get 
 credit for much more feeling than they deserve 
 because their narrowness and cunning permits 
 them to hysterically impose upon the average man. 
 It is the occasional decided blonde like your 
 daughter who redeems the petty sins of the whole 
 type." Ferranti spoke in a would-be calm, didac 
 tic manner, but his low tone betrayed a vibrating 
 undercurrent of feeling, and his hand trembled as 
 he walked away to put his own violin in its case. 
 
 Mr. McChesney, whose mind was thus turned 
 from his daughter s emotional disturbance, had 
 begun already in imagination to prepare a few sta 
 tistics in regard to the theory that blondes are 
 dying out, and was not overpleased at the retreat 
 of a possibly appreciative listener. He followed 
 Ferranti to the piano, but, seeing him about to 
 
 3
 
 34: THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 leave, wisely forbore discussion and remarked upon 
 the beauty of the violin cover. It was of black 
 velvet, lined and bound with orange satin and em 
 broidered with a ]yre in gold thread and a wreath 
 of passion flowers. 
 
 " Evidently a labor of love," was his medita 
 tive, rather than interrogative remark. 
 
 " Probably, since all art work is a labor of love. 
 But the best Avork can be bought. That is the 
 curse of it," with an amused curl of the lip. 
 " Good evening," and the signer shook hands 
 with Mr. McChesney and left before the other oc 
 cupants of the room had time to notice his depart 
 ure. 
 
 " His hands were like the hands of a dead 
 man," Mr. McChesney said. " Bah ! can that 
 foolish child have affected me with her nervous 
 ness?" 
 
 " Perhaps Signer Ferranti hass also a shill, or 
 in indig nation how do you call you the stom 
 ach trouble ? " Klinder suggested mildly but sar 
 castically as he tied the waterproof bag over his 
 cello. 
 
 Kalinski said nothing. He had been greatly 
 disturbed by the sudden advent of Signor Fer 
 ranti. With the keen instinct of jealousy, he fore 
 saw a powerful rival. For it was a fact but half 
 suspected that Kalinski was Flora s most persist 
 ent adorer. lie knew, indeed, that she cared little
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 35 
 
 or nothing for him ; but although he apparently 
 neither expected nor asked any concession from 
 her, he patiently bided his time and hugged to 
 himself the delusion that one day his devotion 
 would be rewarded. He was swayed by that self 
 ish passion which considers only its own gratifi 
 cation and has no regard for the real welfare of 
 its object. Of love in the true meaning of the 
 word he had no conception ; so that when Philip 
 attempted one day to convince him that love must 
 be the mutual recognition of two souls drawn to 
 each other by an irresistible attraction which ex 
 cludes the idea of selfishness, Emil Kalinski mere 
 ly gave Philip in return a superior smile of egotis 
 tic pessimism, and proceeded at once to expound 
 his own theories : 
 
 "Love?" said he, briskly. "What do you 
 know of love more than I ? You have one idea of 
 it, and there are others. How many kinds of love 
 are there ? all branches of one thrifty tree. None 
 knows better what love means than Wagner. Are 
 his heroes all alike ? Are his heroines alike ? Let 
 me remind you in another s words of, for in 
 stance, Senta, the human embodiment of that 
 love which is rather a blind, adoring faith than a 
 passion, and which feeds and thrives upon com 
 plete self-abandonment and sacrifice ; of Elsa, 
 a no less passionate love, although not incapable 
 of self-sacrifice, which must instinctively and irre-
 
 36 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 sistibly have fuller and yet fuller possession of its 
 object ; or Kundria, the representative of two 
 antagonistic traits in woman of feminine love, 
 ever devoted, self-sacrificing, and hopeful, and of 
 feminine fascination and seduction, ever baneful, 
 enervating, and fraught with ruin ; and I might 
 give a thousand instances to illustrate a poet s 
 standpoint. As to myself if I love a woman, she 
 is mine if I can win her. If she doesn t love me 
 well, so much the worse if I win her. But I 
 take the chances of her loving me it is woman s 
 nature to love her master. Liberty of love and 
 love of liberty are my watchwords." 
 
 " Rather Mephistophelian," said Philip quietly. 
 " Qa va," with a shrug. " But your cherished the 
 ories will vanish when Love knocks at the door of 
 your heart. 
 
 Nicht Gut, nicht Gold, 
 
 Noch gottliche Pracht, 
 
 Nicht Haus, nicht Hof, 
 
 Noch herrischer Prunk, 
 
 Nicht Trueber Vertraege, 
 
 Truegender Bund, 
 
 Noch hcuchelnder Sitte 
 
 Hartes Gesetz 
 
 Sclig in Lust und Leid 
 
 Lasst die Liebe nur sein."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN the interval that elapsed between this re 
 hearsal and the concert, Signer Ferranti visited 
 the McChesneys twice once to attend a rehear 
 sal, where he played the suite of Raff s selected for 
 the concert instead of the Rubinstein sonata, and 
 once in response to an invitation to dine from Mrs. 
 McChesney. On the latter occasion his melan 
 choly gravity exercised a depressing effect upon 
 the family, especially upon Mrs. McChesney, who, 
 with the curious stupidity which sometimes char 
 acterizes a bright woman, insisted upon entertain 
 ing a man who did not require to be entertained at 
 all. But in spite of his silence they received the 
 impression that he could be eloquent if necessary, 
 an impression heightened by the gleam of quick 
 interest which now and then lightened his face at 
 a humorous speech from Philip or a noble thought 
 from Flora or her father. 
 
 "Hugh?" said Mrs. McChesney to her hus 
 band, as they all congregated in the library after 
 Signor Ferranti had gone, " Hugh " a downward 
 inflection this time " did you notice anything pe-
 
 38 TEE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 culiar about our guest? I do not mean his man 
 ners, for he is certainly familiar with the usages of 
 polite society, and I don t mean his silence, al 
 though that is disagreeable enough to me, I am 
 sure." She continued with a slightly aggrieved 
 air, " I almost hate a man who makes you feel as 
 if he were punctuating your sentences with use 
 less, silly, meaningless ; jabbing the stiletto 
 of his logic through your mild aphorisms, and 
 finally holding the whole web of your attempted 
 conversation up to the light of reason, just to show 
 you how thin and slazy it is. And all the time 
 inwardly congratulating himself that he doesn t 
 say silly things. I prefer a hundred times that 
 a man should sometimes say a silly thing rather 
 than always appear like Atlas in our old geogra 
 phies burdened with the weight of the world." 
 
 " Bravo, little mother ! " said Philip, putting 
 his arm about his mother s neck. " You will al 
 ways love your children, that is sure ; for they 
 have no warning voice to guard them from saying 
 those airy nothings which a very wise man might 
 endow with a local habitation by dubbing them 
 vulgar fractions. Let me see something seems 
 amiss there ; but they do puzzle the unwary, these 
 airy nothings silly or subtle according to the na 
 ture of the owner. Now, our silly things " 
 
 " Are generally silly, " interrupted Mr. Mc- 
 Chesney. " Now, my dear Josephine, perhaps
 
 TIIE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 39 
 
 you will let us know what is so peculiarly pecul 
 iar about Signor Ferranti." 
 
 " Oh ! I mean his habit of slowly turning his 
 head in a half-dazed manner when one speaks to 
 him, as if the sound came from far off ; and also 
 his habit of looking quickly over his shoulder now 
 and then, as if annoyed by some invisible pres 
 ence." 
 
 " I have noticed the first habit, but it is one so 
 common among literary and musical people that I 
 attribute it to the calm abstraction of genius. 
 The second habit I have not noticed. I have had 
 time to note, though, that Signor Ferranti is a 
 man of unusual culture. This evening, when I 
 showed him some of my books, he handled my 
 black letters and my Aldine and Elzeverian 
 imprints with the tender care that marks a genu 
 ine book-lover. He was perfectly fascinated by 
 the Venetian De Imitatione, 1483, and by my 
 Peter Lombard ; and he gave me a most interest 
 ing account of some fine vellum MSS., breviaries, 
 and psalters in the possession of his uncle at Mil 
 an ; particularly of an exquisite Flemish Book of 
 Hours, with floriated capitals. His uncle s col 
 lection must be valuable and unique. And, my 
 dear, though Signor Ferranti says little, he says 
 enough to show sympathy with the thoughts and 
 interests of others. He is a gentleman and an 
 artist, and entitled to courtesy and recognition
 
 40 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 in any society. He is far superior to the young 
 scions of old families that will not meet him on 
 terms of social equality." 
 
 " Yes," said Philip, " the difference there is de 
 cidedly in Ferranti s favor. Brain in his case can 
 be spelled correctly, but in the case of the others 
 the i must be left out," 
 
 "What do you think, Flora?" continued Mr. 
 McChesney, after a quiet chuckle at Philip s sally. 
 
 Flora glanced up from the book she had not 
 been reading. " He certainly is a man of great 
 ability, but to me there is something mysterious 
 and uncanny about him." 
 
 " Well, let us hope you won t always see ghosts 
 when you play with him. A man who can play 
 the violin as he does may have the power of hyp 
 notic suggestion." Philip yawned, and medita 
 tively leaned against the mantel-piece while he 
 continued : " Kalinski does get into a dickens of a 
 humor sometimes. He evidently hated Ferranti 
 the other night because he played those Paganini 
 studies so well ; and when Ferranti did that mar 
 velous double-stopping, Kalinski glared as if he 
 thought the signor old Janus himself. Kalinski 
 is quite a decent fellow, on the whole ; but talk of 
 mystery he gives me the impression sometimes of 
 being a sort of suppressed Jack-in-the box who 
 might at any moment pop up grinning and shak 
 ing his rattle of Death and Defiance ! to the
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 41 
 
 whole world. I don t like to be suspicious, but I 
 could mistrust him sooner than I could mistrust 
 our silent Italian." 
 
 " Come, come ! we are getting too imaginative," 
 said Mr. McChesney. " That is the trouble with 
 the musically inclined ; the emotional nature is 
 apt to overbalance the reasoning powers." 
 
 " I am glad our concert is safe," Mrs. McChes 
 ney remarked with a sigh of satisfaction. " That 
 is now the main consideration. I can t bear to do 
 a thing at all unless it is done well, especially for 
 charity. I never believe in compelling my friends 
 to listen to a poor performance, even for charity s 
 sake ; nor for that matter in any entertainment 
 the results of which are five hundred dollars for 
 expenses and five for charity." 
 
 Mrs. McChesney carried out her own theories. 
 In her entertainments given for " The Hospital," 
 " The Old Ladies Home," and other local chari 
 ties, she utilized the musical talent of her own 
 family and of her professional friends, who, by 
 reason of her kindly and unbounded hospitality, 
 offered freely their services. Decorations and re 
 freshments were simple and inexpensive, and the 
 entire proceeds of each entertainment were given 
 to the charity in question. For these reasons, and 
 from the fact that tickets were only sold by invi 
 tation, it was a foregone conclusion that a concert 
 at the McChesneys would be well attended. This
 
 42 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 particular concert proved no exception. Carriages 
 rolled in rapid succession to the door ; group after 
 group of well-dressed men and women flitted up 
 the broad stairway lined on either side with huge 
 ferns, palms, and tropical plants. When the guests 
 descended and entered the library they received 
 programmes of unique design from two young 
 McChesueys, aged respectively eight and ten, both 
 dressed, to their own delight and as a guarantee of 
 good behavior, in mediaeval troubadour costumes. 
 The hostess received in the long drawing-room 
 back of the library. She thus removed the formal, 
 funereal atmosphere that in general marks a par 
 lor concert. The guests quickly distributed them 
 selves according to pleasure ; the more sedate went 
 to the music-room proper, or to the* gallery above, 
 which, crossing one side of the room, afforded 
 from behind the carved railing surmounted by 
 busts of musicians good vantage ground for hear 
 ing if not for seeing ; while those who rejoiced in 
 the first heyday of youth sought secluded corners 
 of the conservatory, library, and halls where, un 
 disturbed by admonitory frowns, they could in 
 dulge in sly flirtations, sibilant whispers, and even 
 occasional giggles. 
 
 The music-room had never looked more invit 
 ing. From innumerable lamps and wax candles a 
 soft light shone through shades of delicate colors. 
 In the four corners of the room were orancre trees
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 43 
 
 in fruit and bloom, their bases veiled by pots of 
 feathery ferns, their fragrance filling the air with 
 that indescribable scent of purity and loveliness 
 combined, which, in addition to the velvet white 
 ness of the blossoms, has led the poet to hold the 
 tree as typical of chastity and the maid to hold 
 it sacred to her wedding-day. Along the gallery 
 and along the opposite side of the room, whose 
 plain light-gray surface was broken by the velvet 
 portiere and by three recesses containing bronze 
 statues of Bach, Beethoven, and Wagner, were 
 festooned triple ropes of smilax. These festoons 
 were caught up below each bronze bust on the 
 gallery railing and above each statue s head by a 
 cluster of solid-colored chrysanthemums orange, 
 blood-red, yellow, or crimson placed against a 
 semicircle of radiating narrow leaves of the com 
 mon gladiolus. In front of the Flemish cabinet 
 stood a tall vase of bluish-green Satsuma holding 
 a few immense plumy spikes of the brilliant salt- 
 meadow golden-rod ; while before the French win 
 dow clustering branches of the rose-colored wild 
 aster and delicate white eupatorium sprang up to 
 crown the loveliness of a marble wood-nymph who 
 leaned against a rose-veined marble tree-trunk. 
 
 Miss McChesney assumed the ever - thankless 
 task of opening the programme. She played Bach s 
 prelude and fugue in C sharp minor the fugue 
 as delightful as the prelude is uninteresting and
 
 44 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 she received a perfunctory sort of applause due 
 more to her charming appearance than to interest 
 in Bach. For it is undeniably and sadly true that 
 only he who has struggled in secret with the mys 
 teries of counterpoint with the meaning of sub 
 ject, counter-subject, episode, stretto and with 
 the manifold complications and possibilities which 
 may characterize even a strict and simple fugue, 
 can fully appreciate the intellectual masterpieces 
 of Bach. The feeling that underlies their intellect 
 ual significance can no more be comprehended by 
 the tyro in music than a symphony conducted by 
 Anton Seidl can be fully appreciated by a country 
 maid who only plays the " Seraphine " on Sunday 
 afternoon. Hence the composite expression of 
 the audience during the Bach fugue. It might 
 be described as puzzled anxiety lightened by a 
 gleam of relief as the fugue came to an end. A 
 bass solo followed Schubert s " Erl-King," sung 
 by a German whose magnificent delivery and neat 
 phrasing brought out appreciative applause. With 
 a placid smile he responded to an encore and 
 sang with unique effect a trashy English ballad. 
 " Goot-pye ; my sheep moost zail to-night ; goot- 
 pye, my leetle luff, goot-pye ! " he shouted to the 
 surprised audience. 
 
 " Great Caesar ! " whispered Philip to his 
 sister, " why didn t you look out for his en 
 core ? "
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 45 
 
 " Why ? because I supposed, of course, he would 
 sing some German lied. But his sublime uncon 
 sciousness is worth seeing," she answered. 
 
 " Well, one person is pleased," continued Philip ; 
 "look at Klinder; he is applauding for all his 
 soul is worth. That is the English he under 
 stands." 
 
 A cello solo by Klinder came next, well played 
 with good tone and fair technique. The next num 
 ber was the Raff suite. Flora seated herself at the 
 piano ; Signor Ferranti arranged the music on the 
 violin-stand ; the audience was absorbed in study 
 ing his appearance. Instead of the conventional 
 evening dress, he wore a well - fitting but rusty 
 Prince Albert coat, and trousers much looser than 
 the prevailing fashion. His sallow face was im 
 passive. Lifting his violin to his chin with a ca 
 ressing motion, he tossed back with a quick move 
 ment of the head a lock of wavy black hair that 
 had fallen over his forehead. A feeling of disap 
 pointment ran through the audience. They did 
 not see the gleam of fire under his half-closed 
 eyelids. " How old ! " " How ugly ! " " How stiff ! " 
 " How uninteresting ! " were the comments passed 
 from one to another. He nodded to Flora to 
 begin. 
 
 " I am so sorry," she said ; " the music of the 
 piano part has disappeared. I left it on the piano 
 this afternoon." After an ineffectual search by
 
 46 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 Philip and her father, Flora gave an appealing 
 glance to Signor Ferranti. " What shall we do ? 
 what can replace it ? " she asked. Signor Ferran- 
 ti s eyes traveled over her as if unconsciously ab 
 sorbing the effect of the stately little head crowned 
 with golden hair and the sweet anxious face ris 
 ing above the black tulle dress. Flora s nervous 
 white hands rolled and unrolled the ribbon at 
 tached to a black feather fan that hung at her 
 waist. 
 
 " We need not change the arrangement of the 
 programme," he said ; " we can play the Eubin- 
 stein sonata." There was a command in his eyes. 
 As he saw approaching dissent in her face, a mock 
 ing smile hovered about his lips. " Why are you 
 afraid?" he asked, harshly. Then more gently 
 he continued : " I am not a demon calling spirits 
 from the misty deep to haunt an imaginative 
 woman. Will you not play it with me you, the 
 goddess of flowers, the embodiment of spring, 
 youth, and hope and love will you play it with 
 me whose life is a long chill November day?" 
 Thrilled by the tenderness of his low, rich tones, 
 Flora gave assent. He placed the music before 
 her ; his nostrils dilated, his whole figure became 
 animated with conscious power. 
 
 They finished the first movement. "Is this 
 the man whom we saw at first ? " said one in the 
 audience to another. " He is young, he is hand-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 47 
 
 some," whispered the young girls. Swayed by ths 
 magnetism that seemed to radiate from beneath 
 his drooping lids, all became silent, conscious only 
 of the wild sweetness, the fire, the longing that 
 were poured out in mysterious waves of sound from 
 the violin crying out like a thing of life the secrets 
 of that world of feeling that lies beyond the reach 
 of words. What dainty freshness of love and sun 
 shine danced through the scherzo ! Smiles curved 
 the lips of listeners. The young dreamed of the 
 rosy future and the old saw again the rosy past. 
 A moment the musicians paused before striking 
 into that strain of inspiration where like a bound 
 ing torrent the musical thought bursts all restrain 
 ing barriers and carries the listener along on a 
 flowing tide of harmony. But the hand of the 
 violinist seems weighted, the perspiration stands 
 on his forehead, he looks with terror toward the 
 piano. A false chord causes him to start. With 
 an effort he recovers himself, and the music rushes 
 on again with brilliant freedom. A second time 
 the strain appears. The violinist s hand trembles. 
 The notes sound harsh and grating produced by 
 a powerful will struggling against some unseen 
 influence. Nearer and nearer the players come to 
 the sorrowing climax of the motive. Ever they 
 struggle, hurry, then drag, as held back by myste 
 rious power. Suddenly :
 
 48 
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 
 J"L>-jI Jlt ~ " - - ~j~^ ~ < ~"~I""~L5 H 
 
 r=P 2Ji e i 3 P ~5P : x^:m 
 
 The violin gave a shriek of despair. Flora sprang 
 up, violently dashed her hands against the empty 
 air and grasped the arm of the violinist with a 
 gesture of repulsion. 
 
 " I can not bear it," she cried. " Send her 
 away ! That fearful woman ! What do 3 T ou 
 mean ? " Her voice was shrill and sharp. For a 
 moment they stood in this position. The violinist s 
 hand still held the suspended bow. A gray pallor 
 overspread his face. Flora tottered and sunk
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 49 
 
 fainting at his feet. Like a stone statue he looked 
 down, making no movement to lift her. Kalinski 
 sprang forward, muttering through his teeth : 
 " You shall answer to me ; you have bewitched 
 her with your devilish magnetism." Ferranti ap 
 peared not to hear him. Flora s father and brother 
 carried her out of the room. Then Ferranti 
 picked up the feather fan that had dropped from 
 her waist, laid his violin in its case, put it on the 
 piano, and, after fanning himself for a moment 
 with the long black feathers of the fan, walked 
 slowly and easily out of the room. 
 
 At this moment, roused as they had been to 
 unusual excitement by the internal fire of the mu 
 sic, this incident seemed perfectly natural to the 
 greater portion of the audience. It was a proper 
 climax to a period of emotional intensity. Death, 
 murder, suicide, would hardly have surprised the 
 more excitable ; and it was almost with a feeling 
 of being cheated into commonplace acceptance of 
 every-day life that these latter listened to the an 
 nouncement soon made by Mr. McChesney that 
 his daughter was merely suffering from a slight 
 nervous attack, and that the programme would be 
 continued after a brief intermission. 
 
 Nothing could have more certainly proved the 
 
 power of Signor Ferranti over an audience than 
 
 the manner in which he held attention after this 
 
 interruption. Hungarian dances wherein the 
 
 4
 
 50 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 notes leaped from the violin like sparks of fire 
 preluding an outburst of sudden flame, then a 
 humorous scherzo through which seemed to laugh 
 a crowd of jostling, bustling gnomes peering above 
 the ground and from behind their rocky homes to 
 mock at the emotions of humanity, gradually 
 threw the listeners into a mood of sympathetic 
 good-humor. From the changed atmosphere it 
 seemed as if all had surrendered their wills to the 
 will of this remarkable man who remained as in 
 attentive to applause as he had been to curiosity. 
 The pretty soprano who followed Ferranti was, in 
 comparison, but an animated bit of Dresden china, 
 piping without feeling the loves and hates of a 
 pygmy world. Largeness, warmth, and color came 
 again with the violinist ; and when he carried the 
 players in a whirlwind of excitement through the 
 Beethoven quartet, a storm of applause burst forth 
 spontaneously and broke up all reserve as quickly 
 as a whirlwind breaks the brittle branches of a 
 forest of dead trees.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WITHIN a week the incident that had marred the 
 musicale had been forgotten by the guests, or, if 
 spoken of at all, it was attributed to nervous ex 
 citement and laid away in the memory of thought 
 ful parents as a warning against too intimate ac 
 quaintance with professionals and too absorbing 
 interest in one pursuit. Gossip however contin 
 ued to busy itself with Signor Ferranti. With 
 that unanimity of opinion found in some suburban 
 towns where the inhabitants regard all foreigners 
 with suspicion, it was confidently asserted that he 
 was a Polish Jew of low birth, exiled to this coun 
 try for political misdemeanors ; that he was a Rus 
 sian count, incognito, and by necessary sequence 
 a Nihilist and a polygamist ; that he was a Hindoo 
 priest striving secretly to gain disciples in occult 
 mysteries ; that he was a Jesuit using his musical 
 talent to lead Flora McChesney and her fortune 
 toward the yawning portals of the Romish Church. 
 A few business men, with no love for the divine 
 art, pooh-poohed these surmises and declared that 
 he was, in all probability, some poor devil from
 
 52 TEE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 the London slums, who had found an easy way of 
 making money through his violin and magnetic 
 eyes, and the credulity of the gentler sex. Some 
 of the bravest leaders of society sent him invita 
 tions to dinners and receptions ; for though (they 
 said among themselves) his name might be as 
 sumed his musical talent could not be, and an 
 artist really deserved recognition ; and they sup 
 plemented this noble sentiment by the private 
 after-thought that an artist was a useful piece of 
 odd mental bric-a-brac to stand among the ordi 
 nary collection in one s drawing-room at an after 
 noon tea or evening reception. 
 
 But Signor Ferranti declined all invitations. 
 Neither for love nor money would he play except 
 ing at the concerts in New York for which he was 
 engaged. Neither for love nor money would he 
 appear in any drawing-room. He remained for 
 the most part in his room at the boarding-house ; 
 but every day he took long walks and explored 
 the level country for miles around. During these 
 walks he would often stand still for fifteen or 
 twenty minutes at a time, to gaze from some eleva 
 tion at the far-off horizon line where the distant 
 water of the bay touched the bending sky ; or to 
 look, as if transfixed, at a clump of those half- 
 developed but richly colored trees that cluster on 
 the meadows and in the waste places near and 
 around Medalhurst. He suffered in the estima-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 53 
 
 tion of the inhabitants for such peculiarities. The 
 average resident saw no beauty in the broad open 
 fields, shorn of their harvest and covered now with 
 low stubble, dry grass, or rows of cornstalks be 
 tween which might be seen the silvery whiteness 
 of that weed which, like a wreath of mist from sur 
 rounding hills, clings to the bare ugliness of our 
 autumn fields ; nor in the long stretches of mead 
 ow shaded through all the tints of brown, gray, 
 and green, and lit here and there with patches of 
 bright red ; nor in the level roads of reddish clay, 
 running, as if to escape from the sun, through 
 groves of yellow elms, red and purplish maples, 
 and cool green hemlocks, pines, and spruces. No ; 
 the average resident was not discriminating in the 
 matter of fine shades, delicate outlines, and softly 
 blended harmony of sky and open field. He re 
 quired a slap-dash torrent, a bold and vigorous 
 precipice, a mountain scaling the sky, and a can 
 on piercing the bowels of the earth, to awaken 
 his stagnant love of nature. He therefore saw in 
 these lonely musings of Signor Ferranti only evi 
 dences of cerebral inactivity which rendered the 
 signor indifferent alike to comment and to the 
 average resident of Medalhurst. 
 
 The signor was not, however, entirely indiffer 
 ent to his human brethren. Once a week he dined 
 at the McChesneys and remained to play in the 
 evening. Here in this atmosphere of courtesy, re-
 
 54: THE DOMIXANT SEVENTH. 
 
 finement, and appreciation, he gradually lost some 
 thing of his austerity. Indeed, it may generally 
 be noted that when genius is appreciated for its 
 own worth, the response of genius is satisfactory. 
 The McChesney family reaped the full reward of 
 their comprehension. Sometimes, when music 
 had lifted him to a mood of unwonted cheerful 
 ness, he would delight those gathered in the mu 
 sic room with anecdotes of famous musicians 
 whom he had known ; he would describe their pe 
 culiarities, their different interpretations of cele 
 brated compositions, their feats of skill ; and he 
 revealed unconsciously in these monologues that 
 he had been on terms of intimate friendship with 
 those of whom he spoke. Sometimes he would 
 give his own theories in regard to the progress 
 and development of music ; and in doing so he 
 showed that he held to the tenets of the advanced 
 Wagnerites with all the force of a naturally warm 
 and impetuous nature a nature which, however 
 controlled and repressed by the deep sorrows which 
 had evidently chilled his intercourse with human 
 ity in general, would betray itself in these earnest 
 talks. But he also showed to his listeners that in 
 the liberality and soundness of his views he far 
 surpassed the partisan followers of Wagner. 
 
 " I believe," he said one evening in answer to 
 a question from Mr. McChesney, " that in Wag 
 ner s music we have the legitimate climax of all
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 55 
 
 that lias gone before in musical expression ; and 
 that we all have the right to push on beyond 
 Wagner if we choose or perhaps I should say, if 
 we can only limiting ourselves or being limited 
 by our superiors in the knowledge of the general 
 laws of art, and by our own capacity of interpre 
 tation. If any one, like Spontini or Berlioz, feels 
 within himself a power of forceful dramatic ex 
 pression which enables him to draw out orches- 
 trally the hidden meaning of a subject or a phrase 
 and to impress it strongly upon a listener s mind, 
 such a one must be true to his own insight, how 
 ever he may be laughed at by contemporaries. 
 Otherwise, he is unworthy the name of musician." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. McChesney, taking ad 
 vantage of Ferranti s momentary hesitation, " cer 
 tainly. The searcher after truth must learn to 
 pay no attention to the bickerings in Philistia. 
 If he does, he will end literally by flinging his 
 earnestness to the dogs." 
 
 " Impoverishing himself to furnish them with 
 a temporary bone of contention," added Philip, 
 expansively. 
 
 " The true musician, the true composer," con 
 tinued Ferranti, with that steady, unseeing gaze 
 which betokens a man too occupied with the main 
 current of thought to heed its murmuring tribu 
 taries, " the true genius shall seek constantly for 
 new effects, for new combinations of old laws ; the
 
 56 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 performer shall recognize that the power of re 
 producing is in reality of the same value as the 
 power of creation, for without reproduction crea 
 tive work can not live ; and the performer or in 
 terpreter shall not hesitate to increase effects be 
 yond the limit set by the composer, if the spirit of 
 the times compels. He must consider particularly 
 the composer s relation to the time when his work 
 is presented, which time may require a different 
 degree of intensity in emotional expression from 
 that required by the time when his work was 
 created. The performer or interpreter must, of 
 course, from this point of view, have the delicate 
 perception of a true artist, and an accurate knowl 
 edge of the requirements of his own age. The 
 listener and the critic, too (who should, in order 
 to criticise this most subtle of all arts, be a born 
 musician) ought always to hold themselves in the 
 attitude of those who would further and not 
 hinder progress. Educated by the genius of Wag 
 ner, there will probably be in days to come a com 
 poser who will surpass Wagner. Orchestral im 
 provements still broader, regular irregularities of 
 form, and new rhythmic effects will be the coming 
 composer s weapons to rule the musical world." 
 
 " You give him a hopeless task when you ask 
 that he shall surpass Wagner," Kalinski said. 
 " How can he ? " 
 
 " First, by becoming thoroughly familiar with
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 57 
 
 all the theories upon which Wagner s masterpieces 
 are built. While Wagner is a poor guide as a 
 musical critic, since he was unable to focus his 
 gaze correctly upon his contemporaries, he is the 
 most remarkable teacher of musical ethics that 
 has yet appeared. Wagner did not write his 
 works according to his theories, but wrote his 
 theories according to his works. His works show 
 the spontaneity of genius ; and the philosophical 
 laws that he gives us are the aftermath of a genius. 
 From the philosophical nature of his mind, from 
 his instinctive grasping for eternal laws, his operas 
 reveal, as Beethoven s symphonies reveal, an ever- 
 ascending scale of completeness. Now, the com 
 ing musician must absorb all that has been done, 
 must place himself in sympathy with his own age, 
 and yet perceive, with the intuition of genius, 
 the wants of the age to come, as Wagner under 
 stood his own and the coming age. The rest 
 less spirit of modern life has found expression 
 through Wagner s genius in modern music ; as the 
 restlessness of a previous time found grand and 
 satisfactory solution in the sublimity and peace of 
 Beethoven s greatest works, so ought the restless 
 intellectual excitement that animates the works 
 of Berlioz, Rubinstein, Dvorak, Brahms, and Wag 
 ner find at length its triumphant resolution in 
 some master of a corning age who, with all the 
 resources these workers have gathered, will use
 
 58 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 them to show once more to humanity, in the di- 
 vinest of all arts, the peace that comes in cycles to 
 the great world-soul struggling upward step by 
 step. The triumph shall come again as in Beetho 
 ven submission to the will of the universe, obedi 
 ence to ultimate good." 
 
 "And out of what land shall come thiss 
 "W eltbez winger ? " asked Klinder, gazing placidly 
 over his spectacles at the enthusiastic speaker. 
 
 Kalinski sprang up quickly. " France ! The 
 whole progress of music shows the power of France. 
 Italy was ruled by her, Germany had to learn 
 from her in order to gain present supremacy. 
 France has dramatic intensity, quick perception, 
 and the intellect to seize an opportunity." 
 
 Klinder looked with inexpressible scorn at the 
 Eusso - Frenchman. " S-s-o ? Ye-e-s," he said, 
 slowly ; " France can always seize the right op 
 portunity at the wrong time." 
 
 "America," said Mr. McChesney, "is really 
 most likely to be the birthplace of this genius, 
 perhaps even in another century. The American 
 shows in art the resistless spirit of progress; he 
 scorns tradition, he seeks new laws, and by the 
 fusion of various nationalities he will acquire 
 German thoroughness, French vivacity, Italian 
 warmth, and Russian force." 
 
 "Japanese patience, Scotch shrewdness, and 
 Irish humor you should add to your list of ingredi-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 59 
 
 ents for making a genius. With due deference to 
 you, father, I say that genius can t very well be 
 molded in the pudding-dish of any one s imagina 
 tion. A genius, to my mind, is a sort of miracle 
 created at any time and at any place by the opera 
 tion of unknown laws." Philip said this earnestly, 
 and then, as if his dictum settled the matter, he 
 walked to the piano and began to wrestle with the 
 intricate chords of the Pilgrim s chorus from 
 " Tannhauser." 
 
 Kalinski was the only one who never took 
 such conversations with good-humor. His inward 
 rebellion at Ferranti s influence and superior men 
 tal powers manifested itself on this evening, as on 
 several others, by asserting the dignity of the 
 second violin above the first. They played this 
 night some of Haydn s string quartets, which, 
 however unsatisfactory in harmonic treatment to 
 ears trained to the richer modulations of Schu 
 mann, Beethoven, and Wagner, yet impress any 
 genuine musician with their varying and melodi 
 ous themes and exquisite unity of form. In a 
 broad and simple adagio Kalinski s petty spiteful- 
 ness hatefully obtruded through the calm and ten 
 der sentiment of the movement. Ferranti took 
 no notice of any eccentricities until the end of the 
 adagio. Then, laying down his violin, he pointed 
 to the bust of Haydn looking down majestically 
 from the gallery.
 
 60 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " How do you think that manner of playing 
 would suit the composer ? A true musician for 
 gets himself and his own secret annoyances when 
 he tries to interpret the great masters. You do 
 yourself injustice." 
 
 At this gentle but just rebuke, Kalinski red 
 dened, bit his lip, and showed for an instant the 
 gleam of white teeth under his bristling black 
 mustache. 
 
 When Kalinski went away Philip went with 
 him to the hall. As Kalinski drew on his over 
 coat abruptly, he gazed at Philip with a wild stare 
 of unhappiness. " I am going mad, I believe. 
 Oh ! if he had never come your sister might have 
 loved me ! Already she had begun to trust me. 
 And I must see him take her from me ! Mon 
 Dieu ! Ma peine que c est affreuse ! " and he 
 brushed his hand swiftly acros? his forehead. 
 
 " Ah, my dear old friend," said Philip, placing 
 his hand gently upon Kalinski s shoulder, " be 
 lieve me, your theories are wrong. If my sister 
 could have loved you or had loved you, no other 
 man could win her from you. She is not a weak- 
 minded girl to be swayed by changing fancies. 
 And you are mistaken. Ferranti seldom speaks to 
 her ; he talks to father and myself ; he has a heart 
 only for his violin. Her interest and sympathy 
 are those of one musician for another. These 
 feelings are unworthy of you."
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 61 
 
 In Philip s honest brown eyes gleamed so di 
 vine a tenderness that the bitterness passed out of 
 Kalinski s face as suddenly as a shadow is ban 
 ished by a sunbeam. He grasped Philip s hand 
 silently, and silently went out into the night.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHILE it was quite true, as Philip said, that 
 Ferranti had apparently made no attempt to win 
 Flora s favor and had apparently bestowed his at 
 tention entirely upon Mr. McChesney and Philip, 
 there was yet an undercurrent of feeling between 
 the signor and Flora that ran too deep for even 
 an interested observer to perceive. Although 
 Flora McChesney was too proud to give her love 
 unsought, she was strongly attracted by the first 
 man of intellect and refinement who had so long 
 remained indifferent to her charms. A true 
 woman in this respect she indulged in much 
 speculation as to the causes of his silence and in 
 difference. Only in the music could she feel that his 
 spirit spoke to hers. Xow and then she caught a 
 glance of admiration at the end of some brilliant 
 passage of great difficulty, or heard a word of 
 praise in Italian, spoken as if to himself, when she 
 had followed his mood with perfect comprehension 
 in some concerted piece. So it had been until 
 one afternoon soon after the preceding brief con 
 versation between Philip and Kalinski. Ferranti
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 63 
 
 had come to play a new sonata for piano and violin 
 by Heinrich Hoffmann. They were alone in the 
 music room, and both played with that enthusiasm 
 which inspires the musician at the first trial of a 
 new and interesting composition. Flora surpassed 
 herself, conquering technical difficulties with un 
 usual ease and accuracy. 
 
 " I could never do that again," she sighed, as 
 she closed the music and looked up at him, her 
 cheeks red with excitement. " It is your magnifi 
 cent playing that lifts me above myself." 
 
 Ferranti came and stood close beside her, and 
 bent upon her a look of such earnestness that, 
 disturbed by the feeling in his eyes, she dropped 
 her own while the color crept to her very forehead. 
 He put out his hand and clasped hers with a warm, 
 strong grasp. There was no need of words ; Flora 
 knew in that moment that they loved each other 
 that their souls had met in spiritual union divine 
 prelude to the blending of two earthly songs in 
 one harmonious strain. But Ferranti dropped 
 her hand almost as quickly as he had taken it. 
 He turned away and walked to the window, where 
 he stood, neither of them could have told how 
 long, watching the snow fast falling over the pine 
 trees and the bare elm branches, and covering with 
 its quiet flakes the level stretch of lawn that sloped 
 downward from the house. Presently he came 
 toward her again ; but all life and animation had
 
 (14 TUE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 vanished from his face. He seemed not to have 
 sufficient vitality even to toss back the lock of 
 hair which had fallen over his forehead and 
 which intensified by its blackness the gray pall 
 or of the face. Forgetting herself and all other 
 feeling save that of tender sympathy, Flora said 
 gently : 
 
 " Oh, signor, can not you be happy in your 
 music ? " 
 
 By these words she recognized the affection he 
 had not told, and also the barrier that existed to 
 separate them. Ferranti understood her. 
 
 " Signorina," he said in a low tone as he drew 
 a chair near the piano. " The snow is falling fast 
 outside, the trees are bare, the earth is still and 
 lifeless ; but it is only for a time ; the spring will 
 bring fresh blossoms from the earth, young golden- 
 green leaves from the withered trees, and rays of 
 tender sunlight will shine upon the lawn in place 
 of the cold white snow. Not so with my life ; 
 there it must be winter now and forever. Only 
 in my music do I find sunshine. But I ought not 
 to sadden your life even for a moment with sor 
 rows of my own. Once " 
 
 He bit his lip and checked the coming words. 
 
 " But the world is before you to conquer with 
 your music. Nature and art are both ready to 
 soothe your troubles and to give you peace, even if 
 you can not have the highest happiness. And is
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 65 
 
 it nothing that friends are near you to give you 
 silent sympathy ? " 
 
 Ferranti gave an expressive backward move 
 ment of the hand. 
 
 " Fame ? Only to him who can not win it 
 does it gleam like a star instead of a bit of colored 
 glass. Nature breathes of love ; art, too, whispers 
 of love, of warm human affection which may not, 
 must not, be mine." 
 
 A chill struck to Flora s heart. But though 
 she felt the determination and the despair of these 
 words, she could not be altogether unhappy. He 
 loved her, he would have told her so if he could. 
 Love came to her, as to so many others, hand in 
 hand with sorrow; but at least she was not cheated of 
 her right to know his love. This for the moment 
 was supreme consolation and lightened the shadow 
 of necessary repression. She did not attempt 
 during the silence that ensued to evade the ques 
 tions that came before her ; she did not disguise 
 to herself, as a weaker woman might, the fact that 
 she loved the man of whom she knew so little and 
 who could not tell her of his love ; she accepted 
 the inevitable, the bitter with the sweet, and she 
 knew instinctively, even though she could not 
 formulate her knowledge, that these holy flames 
 now flashing across her heart would prove a puri 
 fying fire and not an all-consuming fire. 
 
 Presently he went on in a low, gentle tone : 
 5
 
 66 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " There was once a man walking through a 
 forest. His way had been rough and full of 
 dangers, his journey long and tiresome. He was 
 lonely and unhappy. Just as he was thinking 
 bitter thoughts he stepped into an open place 
 where the blue sky arched above the delicate lac 
 ings of the tree tops, and the warm sun touched 
 with gold the lusty banks of ferns that seemed to 
 bound in joyous life away into the shadows of the 
 pine trees guarding the rocky hills on either side. 
 A white dove fluttered down from an overhanging 
 branch, lit on his hand and pecked at his sleeve ; 
 to him it was the expression of sympathy from all- 
 powerful Nature. As he held for a moment the 
 tender fluttering thing in his strong hands, the 
 thought crossed his mind to endeavor to imprison 
 it, to woo it to always cheer his solitude, to be the 
 tangible link between him and the warm human 
 world. But better thoughts prevailed. What ! 
 cage it from the sunny freedom of an unstained 
 life ? For a selfish pleasure of his own to hold it 
 in bondage ? No ! a thousand times, no ! " 
 
 And Ferranti here arose and grasped the chair- 
 back firmly with one hand while he raised the 
 other with a fervid gesture. He lowered his voice 
 again as he dropped his hand. 
 
 " Tenderness and protection for the loveliest of 
 God s creatures who know not their own danger 
 is the duty of the strong. The man, tired and
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 67 
 
 hungry and desolate as he might be, saw no excuse 
 for caging the dove that innocently fluttered near 
 him. He held his hands; and he watched the 
 dove soar again to the freedom of the upper blue 
 and fade, far in the distance, into the pure white 
 clouds beyond his reach." 
 
 The rich, musical tones died away in almost a 
 whisper. Flora had looked steadily in his face as 
 he spoke, and, Avon by the spiritual gentleness 
 which softened the lines of suffering, she went up 
 to him with instinctive confidence and laid her 
 hand upon the slender nervous hand that rested 
 still on the back of the chair. 
 
 " You will be my friend ? " she said quietly. 
 
 " Always ; God grant it, signorina," he said, in 
 a repressed, husky voice ; but he made no move 
 ment to detain her as she left the room. 
 
 After this day Flora allowed herself no inter 
 course with Ferranti save through the music which 
 they played together. Although he seemed a 
 shade more melancholy, and seemed daily to grow 
 thinner, he talked more brilliantly than ever, rous 
 ing always the best thoughts of others and giving 
 out unstintedly the treasures of knowledge he had 
 accumulated. He had known how to throw away 
 the chaff and put rich golden grain into the great 
 storehouse of memory, and he was not one of 
 those intellectual misers who, fearing to benefit 
 some poorer brother whom circumstance would
 
 68 TIIE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 not permit to glean the field of wisdom, leave the 
 harvest they have gathered to rot in musty rich 
 ness. He recognized that the law of life is to 
 give freely ; so only shall one be saved from the 
 torpor death.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE winter passed quietly away. Mr. Mc- 
 Chesney interested himself more and more in the 
 collection of rare manuscripts, a hobby to which 
 a new impetus had been given by the gift from 
 Ferranti of original scores of Beethoven, Mozart, 
 and Mendelssohn. Kalinski kept persistently away 
 from the house, so Philip with some instruction 
 from Ferranti had developed his natural talent so 
 far as to be able to fill Kalinski s place in the quar 
 tet. Had it not been for a certain languor and 
 occasional fits of depression which Mrs. McChesney 
 noticed in Flora and which aroused some uneasiness 
 in her mother s mind, there would have been noth 
 ing to mar the even tenor of life at Strathcarron. 
 
 One evening in early March they were all gath 
 ered in the music room. It was one of those even 
 ings when the frosty air and blustering winds 
 without cause one to turn with keen appreciation 
 to the cheerfulness within. They were all espe 
 cially merry, and when the door-bell rang and 
 the voice of Kalinski was heard, Flora made a 
 charming little moue at Ferranti and elevated her
 
 70 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 eyebrows as if to say " Now our comfort will be 
 spoiled." Kalinski entered, inflated with good- 
 humor, like some previously despondent rubber 
 cushion with its long-forgotten quota of air. He 
 seemed much taller than usual. His bushy whisk 
 ers were parted and carefully brushed each way, 
 while his bristling hair being closely cropped no 
 longer intensified his aggressive facial character 
 istics. He was faultlessly dressed, wore a red car 
 nation in his button-hole, and, contrary to his usual 
 custom, had seen that his nails were carefully pol 
 ished and trimmed. He proceeded to make him 
 self universally agreeable, even to the extent of 
 politeness to Signor Ferranti. He took his usual 
 place in the quartet. 
 
 " What is going to happen ? " said Flora, as she 
 crossed the room and sat down on a low divan 
 near the large easy- chair occupied by her mother. 
 " Mr. Kalinski is himself again. He is almost en 
 durable to-night. He seems possessed by some 
 pleasant secret. Perhaps he has fallen in love 
 with some responsive being." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, that is the first thing you young 
 people think of as desirable. Let us think of him 
 as having met with some material piece of good 
 fortune." 
 
 " Why, mother, how can you ! You to be 
 cynical, when you have been so happy yourself ! 
 Is there any greater blessing than "
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH 71 
 
 " My child," said the mother, with a soft sigh, 
 " I was not thinking of myself." And her eyes 
 dwelt a moment on her daughter s rounded cheek 
 and then wandered on to the sallow profile of the 
 Italian who was bending over some music at the 
 other end of the room. Ah, that mother instinct ! 
 too keen to be thwarted even by the seemingly 
 placid exterior of a loved child ! Guided only by 
 instinct, the mother goes to the hoarded store of 
 sweetness within the shrinking heart as unerring 
 ly as the wild bee speeds his way to the honey in 
 far-off apple blooms. She will read the signs of 
 secret trouble that no other eye can see, and grasp 
 your every thought while you fondly think your 
 sorrows are your own. But if she be a wise mother 
 she bides her time for speaking. Though not a 
 woman of great mental power, Mrs. McChesney 
 possessed the rare virtue of knowing when to talk 
 and when to keep silent. For the present, then, 
 she leaned back easily in her chair with her fleecy 
 white-wool knitting in her hands; but she now 
 and then cast a thoughtful glance at Flora s 
 graceful Psyche-like head, bent slightly forward 
 in rapt attention to the exquisite harmonies that 
 proceeded from the now sympathetic quartet. 
 
 " This Schubert music, coming after the 
 Brahms movement, is like the music of a running 
 brook coming after the clatter of a saw mill," said 
 Philip when the last chords died away.
 
 72 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " Or rather," said Flora quickly, " like a smil 
 ing landscape after a thunder-storm ; for Brahms 
 is strong and powerful, and he has a definite place 
 in music, as the thunder and lightning have in 
 the world of nature. He seems rough indeed 
 sometimes, when he breaks over the forms and 
 conventionalities of a past age, hut he opens the 
 way for new beauties in the music landscape. 
 Destruction must prepare the way for improve 
 ment. Brahms is more a destroyer than a beauti- 
 fier; but his music is never like the clatter of a 
 saw mill. I am surprised at you, Philip ! " and 
 Flora tried to frown. 
 
 " Don t be hard on a clumsy fellow, Flo. That 
 was only a figure of speech." 
 
 "A decidedly wooden one, too," answered 
 Flora ; " like the Indian before a cigar store." 
 
 " Pointing to treasures within ? " 
 
 " Yes ; which end in smoke." 
 
 " You seem to like the indicative mood, belle 
 sceur," Philip quickly continued. 
 
 "And present tense." 
 
 " Or tense present," laughed Philip. " Wom 
 en seldom generalize enough to use future 
 tenses." 
 
 " But they particularize well," answered Flora ; 
 " and it is from details that men are enabled to 
 generalize." 
 
 " Oh, surely ; I grant that to particular eyes
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 73 
 
 men owe much knowledge of a certain kind. 
 Doesn t Moore say 
 
 My only books were women s looks, 
 And folly s all they ve taught me." 
 
 "But what does the greater Shakespeare say? 
 spoke Ferranti quickly, noting in a flash Flora s 
 nonplused look. 
 
 " From women s eyes this doctrine I derive : 
 They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
 They are the books, the arts, the Academes 
 That show contain and nourish all the world." 
 
 " Two against one no wonder I am beaten," 
 Philip exclaimed. 
 
 " But apropos of Brahms," said Ferranti, re 
 turning Flora s grateful glance with a half smile ; 
 " Do you remember the story told not long ago 
 about Yon Billow conducting a Brahms symphony 
 at Vienna ? " 
 
 " No," said Philip ; " let s have it. A plaster, 
 I suppose, to soothe my lacerated logic." 
 
 " That is as you take it," answered Ferranti. 
 " But here it is, shorter than the prelude. Well, 
 it was a new composition, and evidently exer 
 cised a depressing effect upon musicians as well 
 as upon dilettanti and tyros who were present. 
 At the close of the symphony there was profound 
 silence. Von Biilow, waiting for the applause that 
 did not come, calmly surveyed the audience. Ev-
 
 74 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ideutly the audience does not understand the sym 
 phony, he said in a loud tone. We will play 
 it over again. And the orchestra played it over 
 again. After which there was no lack of ap 
 plause." 
 
 " That is very like him, according to all ac 
 counts," said Mr. McChesney. 
 
 " He has to father a good many eccentricities 
 that he has no kinship with," Ferranti said. " He 
 happens to be a convenient peg on which to hang 
 the odds and ends of musical gossip. He is in real 
 ity one of the most delightful, well-bred, and gen 
 erous men in the world ; but he has a high concep 
 tion of his own dignity and the dignity of his pro 
 fession." 
 
 " Do you believe" Kalinski asked, suddenly ris 
 ing and assuming a somewhat theatrical attitude 
 which seemed the studied climax of some train of 
 thought, " that one could tell a story by a musical 
 instrument so clearly that a musical listener could 
 understand the story without the addition of 
 words?" 
 
 Ferranti was leaning against the piano, his 
 arms folded and his head bent slightly forward. A 
 quizzical gleam crossed his face at the question. 
 
 "No, indeed." He spoke in an indulgent tone. 
 " I only believe that the general atmosphere of a 
 composition is comprehended by a musical mind. 
 There is a difference between imaginative and ro-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 75 
 
 mantic music, you know. Imaginative music of the 
 highest grade appeals to the musical mind in a 
 language incomprehensible to the ordinary listener ; 
 it deals with abstract musical thoughts. Romantic 
 music represents some scene or event that has place 
 in the composer s mind and around which he 
 groups his musical expressions. The andante 
 from the fifth symphony, the scherzo from the sev 
 enth are good examples of the former, while the 
 pastoral symphony is one of the most familiar and 
 satisfactory examples of the latter. An ordinary 
 passionate composition of the romantic school cer 
 tainly requires a clew to be given to its meaning. 
 The music to one listener may represent a real 
 storm, to another, a quarrel between two lovers or a 
 tragedy in which revenge has proved the key-note. 
 Calm moonlight on the sea, or a happy maiden rev 
 erie in the summer wood, or the quiet of accept 
 ed love, may all be given in the same musical ex 
 pressions. The listener s mind colors the musical 
 impressions which it receives. The significance, I 
 insist, of musical phrases is comprehended only 
 by musical feeling ; they can not be presented sat 
 isfactorily to another s mind by material images, 
 although it be desirable for the composer to so pre 
 sent them in order to point to the ordinary listener 
 the direction in which his thoughts are to be 
 turned. Even with direction the thoughts of the 
 listener are very apt to cluster around material im-
 
 76 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ages very different from those that sprang up in 
 the composer s mind as he wrote. The listener s 
 images are in harmony with the general tenor of 
 his thoughts and the general habits of his life." 
 
 " Then, of course, you do not believe that there 
 is any such thing as music, sensuous per se ? " in 
 terpolated Mr. McChesney. 
 
 " Of course not. A soft, grave hymn, or a light 
 scherzo expressive of pure and happy childlife, 
 may become, if used in vulgar surroundings, a me 
 dium to a vulgar mind of impure thoughts ; but 
 the music itself remains pure, and can not be de 
 graded by a beer-saloon or a Jardin Mabille." 
 
 " Now," said Kalinski, " I have a story to tell 
 upon the violin. As you think it could not be 
 understood without explanation, I will accompany 
 the music with appropriate words. This will afford 
 you all a novel and instructive entertainment." 
 
 Philip laughed under his breath and glanced 
 at Ferranti. " Aha," said he aloud, " a musical 
 drama in how many acts ? Something, perhaps, 
 on the principle of the early art forms which pre 
 ceded the oratorio and the opera a sort of cantata 
 with a slight accompaniment an aria recitative 
 Avith a figured bass on the violin." 
 
 Kalinski looked at him unseeingly, and began at 
 once his peculiar performance. He had some facil 
 ity of description, and the words tripped smooth 
 ly from his tongue as soon as he began his story.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 77 
 
 Before each scene he gave a musical overture which 
 included the principal events and emotions, and, 
 in addition, whenever a character appeared for the 
 first time he would give a characteristic musical 
 portrait of the mental qualities. His evident in 
 tent to be taken seriously compelled his auditors 
 to stifle all tendency to amusement, and to listen 
 with some degree of courtesy. Moreover, they 
 were all musicians in spirit if not in fact, and Ka- 
 linski, always more or less dramatic, now showed 
 in his playing fire and force which commended 
 him to their favor.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 KALINSKI8 STORY. 
 
 IT is a festa day in the month of May at Rome. 
 The odorous acacia blossoms, the golden gorse, the 
 wild sweet-pea, and a host of dainty creeping vines 
 and flowering weeds clamber along the hedges out 
 side the city, and millions of scarlet poppies blaze 
 amid the swaying grain upon the broad Campagna. 
 The goat-herd comes down from the mountain ; 
 the peasant, the monk, the soldier jostle each other 
 on the crowded streets ; the women sing and laugh 
 from their open windows, or chatter in musical 
 voices under the gray-stone walls crowned with red 
 blossoms of the spicy oleander. As the warm sun 
 sinks slowly westward in a sea of fire, the sounds 
 of guitars and violins fall upon the ear, the scent 
 of orange blossoms fills the air, and welcome to the 
 taste is the sherbet or lemonade from the canvas- 
 covered booths on every plaza. Shrines are erected 
 at the corners of the streets ; and beneath one of 
 these crude pictures of the Madonna before which 
 burns constantly a little light, kneels a young peas-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 79 
 
 ant girl saying her rosary wi th pious care. A young 
 Italian, well-dressed, handsome, and evidently of 
 noble birth, watches her attentively. At Ave 
 Maria, when dove-like twilight broods over the 
 city and the open fields, a great procession takes 
 place the chanting priests circle through the 
 plaza, church-banners float above their heads, 
 the crowd bends before the ostia. When it disap 
 pears, and the people gather before the church to 
 look at the tapestried platform and to listen to 
 the music of the band, the young cavalier may 
 be seen talking and jesting with the peasant girl. 
 Dressed now himself as a peasant, he wears white 
 stockings, a tall hat with rosettes, and a loose black 
 velvet jacket. The girl is dressed like others of 
 her class and province, in a light bodice and a 
 silken skirt, and above her white chemise a coral 
 necklace rests upon her full brown neck and bosom. 
 From her ears hang heavy ear-rings of gold, and 
 her thick black braids are looped up neatly around 
 her handsome head. They are very gay, these 
 young people ; and the bells ring and the organ 
 peals, and flowers and crucifixes and banners are 
 everywhere along the streets. Why should they 
 not be gay ? It is May, and May is the time for 
 love. By and by the young signer and Anita (for 
 that is her name) slip away from the old peasant 
 woman with whom Anita has come down from the 
 mountains, and join a merry group on the edge of
 
 80 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 the crowd where sounds the sharp click of the casta 
 nets and the dull thrum of the tambourines. Who 
 can dance the saltarello like this rosy-cheeked, 
 luminous-eyed Anita, flashing her dark eyes be- 
 witchingly and throwing her lithe, elastic form 
 into a thousand graceful, changing curves, unless 
 it be the young signor, circling around her with 
 quick, short steps, clapping his hands, and begging 
 for the kiss which she will refuse again and again 
 only to yield in pantomime at last. If it were 
 only always in pantomime ! 
 
 they are among the green forests that 
 wind around the Alban Lake. They are on the 
 way to that summit where once stood the temple 
 of Jupiter Latialis, and where now stands the con 
 vent of Monte Cavi. From here they will look 
 down on the Koman Campagna, its fields of plumy 
 grasses and parti-colored flowers waving in rhyth 
 mic motion to the wind-harps of the golden- 
 trunked pines; its ilex trees and luxuriant vines 
 covering the jagged angles of broken bridges, 
 tombs, and aqueducts; and its brown banks re 
 minding you of the catacombs that underlie this 
 brilliant stretch of color more brilliant under 
 the purple and gold of sunset that rests along the 
 far horizon line. But Anita and her cavalier 
 think not of the light and nature-life around 
 them, nor of the generations of dead that lie be-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. gl 
 
 neath them. They see only the love-light in each 
 other s eyes. Presently, when the moon shines 
 full and clear in the heavens, they are at a rustic 
 dance in an old castle. Nightingales sing in the 
 ilex groves, and laurels shadow the narrow paths 
 Avhere they can wander when heated with the 
 dance. Nobles and peasants dance freely together 
 on the brick floor of the great half-ruined hall. 
 Of all the contadini who is so charming as Anita, 
 the Albanian maiden ! And who so worthy of her 
 glances as the peasant noble who whispers in her ear 
 the sweet nothings that spring from a lover s heart ! 
 
 One evening, at a villetta on the mountain-side, 
 an old woman wrings her hands as she sits alone 
 among the vines and vegetables of her little gar 
 den. Under the arbor, upon which the warm 
 autumn sun has shone all day with quiet force, 
 she sits and moans, while the tears run down her 
 withered cheeks. The vintage festival has come 
 and gone. Gone are the laughing peasants, strong 
 of back and sturdy of limb, their heads and faces 
 stained with the purple grape ; gone are the bas 
 ket-wagons and the oxen decked with vines and 
 bright-hued ribbons ; gone is the handsome Bac 
 chus who, crowned with ivy and bearing a sheep 
 skin over his shoulder, headed the vintage proces 
 sion ; gone, too, is the fairest of the maidens who 
 followed, with a basket of grapes upon her stately
 
 82 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 head and a vine-wreath around her neck brown- 
 tinted by the mellowing sun. Gone are they all. 
 Everything is still. Even the goats browse no 
 longer on the juicy herbs covering the fertile 
 hills. Only the full moon looks quietly down 
 upon the gray-green olives nestling upon the um- 
 ber-hued hills, and touches with an added gleam 
 of silver the gray hair of the lonely mother wring 
 ing her hands in grief. On the seat beside her 
 lies a letter which was read to her at sunset by 
 the parish priest. At one moment she snatches 
 it up and kisses it with a pitiful cry, and the next, 
 she flings it from her with a gesture of contempt. 
 She can not follow Anita ; she is poor ; since her 
 husband s death she has toiled daily with her 
 hands to keep a home for the bright-eyed, laugh 
 ing girl who is now so far away. She bows her 
 head in despair as she feels the numbness of com 
 ing desolation creep slowly through her heart. 
 She grows more quiet while the night hours wear 
 away ; she does not feel the chill night dews that 
 fall upon her, nor the chill night wind that tosses 
 her gray hair. The morning sun at last peers un 
 der the grape-hung trellis, but he is powerless to 
 warm the cold body stretched out upon the narrow 
 seat, the withered face upturned as if imploring 
 pity from the bending sky. The mother-heart 
 has broken ; the toil-worn body is at rest.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 83 
 
 On the corner of a semi-respectable street in 
 Paris stands one of those damp and dingy struct 
 ures in which decayed gentility finds a squalid 
 refuge. Here, in an ill-ventilated, cheaply fur 
 nished room, is immured the charming peasant 
 taken from the free air of the Roman hills. A 
 year goes by on swift and rosy wings. Another 
 year ; but its wings are leaden, and it flings a 
 shadow over the brightness of Anita s face. He 
 neglects her now, this lover who could not live 
 without her. Long hours she is left alone, to 
 watch the tall, straight walls that front the small- 
 paned windows, or to count the shepherds and 
 shepherdesses on the figured paper of her room 
 happy youths and maidens who recall her own 
 lost happiness and intensify by their unending 
 joy the fleeting nature of her own. She has no 
 power to amuse herself in this frothy world of 
 gayety revolving about her in the distance. 
 She has a tender, loving heart, poor weak Anita. 
 Evening after evening she weeps her bitter tears 
 and eats the ashes of her hopes; evening after 
 evening she sees him for a moment in his well- 
 fitting evening dress and dainty gloves, and then 
 she watches him roll away in a well-appointed 
 dark-green cabriolet to the salons where she 
 may never go. The coachman smacks his whip ; 
 the young Italian nods ; houp la ! what matters a 
 heavy heart or two when Pleasure s finger beck-
 
 84 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ons ? The world wags right merrily for those who 
 know how to take it. One day there is a violent 
 scene. Hot words pass. Anita learns too late 
 that she is as free to go as she was free to follow- 
 nay, a thousand times more free, for she followed 
 by the constraining power of love. She learns too 
 late that to put faith in a lover s word is to put 
 faith in a brittle sword. That night she flies. 
 She will never return. And the young Italian 
 goes gayly on his way, happy in his recovered 
 freedom, serenely conscious that she has left him 
 of her own accord. He is not rich ; now he will 
 retrieve his fortunes. And Anita ? Pouf ! He 
 takes his cigarette from his mouth : pouf ! a blue 
 ring of smoke disappears.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Kalinski had reached this point in his 
 story he stood nearly opposite Flora and her 
 mother. He laid his violin bow on an adjacent 
 stand, and then, with a dramatic gesture, he drew 
 from the inner breast-pocket of his coat two pho 
 tographs. " Here," said he, " is the girl whose 
 story I have told. In this see her beauty, her 
 grace, her innocence ; in that see her as she looks 
 out from the barred windows of an asylum and 
 calls in vain for the lover who does not come." 
 
 Mrs. McChesney took the photographs, holding 
 them so that the upper picture hid the lower. 
 Flora leaned over the arm of the chair to look at 
 them. " AVhat a lovely face," she exclaimed, " I 
 never saw a more perfect oval ; and those large 
 dark eyes, so Madonna-like and mournful. Could 
 any man destroy the happiness of such a woman ? 
 See, mother, on her neck she wears a cross at 
 tached to a small chain; and that square head 
 dress makes her look like one of the sisters at St. 
 Mary s. Oh, the story is too cruel ! It can not be 
 true ! "
 
 86 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " I hardly understand your idea, Mr. Kalin- 
 ski," said Mrs. McChesney, " in telling us a story 
 of this kind. Could you not have selected some 
 thing more suitable to entertain us with ? " She 
 elevated her eybrows rather haughtily and sur 
 veyed him coldly. 
 
 " But let me see the other picture," interrupted 
 Flora. She took it from her mother, gave it one 
 eager glance, and dropped it as though it burned 
 her fingers. " It is the same face ; I have seen it 
 twice before," she said, in a low, choked voice 
 through which vibrated a tone of horror. She 
 shuddered and covered her face with both hands. 
 
 " Bien, madame ; you see my idea? " Kalinski 
 addressed Mrs. McChesney with a triumphant 
 smile. "And there," he continued, wheeling 
 around so as to face Ferranti, " there is the man 
 who loved this girl, who deserted her, who ruined 
 her happiness." 
 
 Ferranti still stood motionless, leaning against 
 the piano ; still kept his arms tightly folded. He 
 straightened himself now and came fonvard, his 
 face pale, his head thrown back, and his arms 
 still more tightly clasped, as if to confine the 
 words that struggled for utterance. His throat 
 swelled, and his eyes flashed beneath his dark and 
 knitted brows as smoldering sparks flash beneath 
 charred embers. 
 
 He spoke directly to Kalinski, in slow and
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 87 
 
 careful, measured tones : " Your story is highly 
 interesting. Permit me, though, to correct it in 
 one important respect. This woman whose pict 
 ure you have obtained was, and is, my lawful 
 wife. The marriage certificate and various con 
 vincing letters are in my possession, and can be 
 shown any moment in proof of what I say. I 
 have, moreover a fact of which you have carefully 
 neglected to inform yourself a son about six 
 years of age, who is now with my mother in Italy. 
 I am supporting both my mother and my son to 
 the best of my ability, as well as my wife, who 
 receives the best care and attention that can be 
 found for her in her unfortunate condition. My 
 marriage, which took place under an assumed 
 name, was kept secret for family reasons, and 
 ought still to be kept secret for some time. It 
 will not be long before the reasons for secrecy 
 will have ceased to exist, and I shall then be able 
 to publicly acknowledge my son. This explana 
 tion is made," he continued scornfully, " not by 
 any means on your account, but out of respect to 
 the family who have received me with a courtesy 
 and hospitality which I can never forget." After 
 a moment s pause, he added : " There are a good 
 many minor mistakes, too, in the story which you 
 have maliciously constructed upon a slight founda 
 tion. But to correct them involves my revealing 
 private sorrows and details of the private life of
 
 83 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 others, and I do not feel justified in doing this. 
 The cause of my unfortunate wife s insanity is 
 evidently quite unknown to you. How you have 
 gained this knowledge, this slight basis upon 
 which you have reared a flimsy structure of ab 
 surdities, is quite beyond my comprehension. Per 
 haps you will kindly inform me; and perhaps, 
 also, you will give me my right name, which is 
 not yet known to the people of Medalhurst." He 
 shot a piercing glance at Kalinski with these 
 words, a glance which Kalinski refused to meet. 
 Indeed, he seemed greatly taken aback at this 
 straightforward challenge, and lost countenance 
 immediately. His expression of triumph faded 
 to one of doubt. After some hesitation, during 
 which there was an embarrassing silence, Kalinski 
 drew from the same pocket of his coat which had 
 held the two photographs a few loose sheets of 
 paper, dangling irregularly from a thread which 
 caught them together. 
 
 " Ah," said Ferranti impassively, " so Mr. 
 Emil Kalinski conspires with servants ; he lights 
 his rockets at the kitchen fire and turns the poker 
 for divining rod." 
 
 " It is not so," Kalinski answered sharply, red 
 dening at the same time. " The papers, I found them 
 in the barrel the barrel of ashes, of debris outside 
 the house ; the wind blew them, I gave them some 
 blows of my foot, I picked them up voila tout ! "
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 89 
 
 " I remember them some loose leaves of an 
 old diary. And soon after you came to spend the 
 evening with me. On a tour of inspection? And 
 the photographs ? " Ferranti still maintained his 
 tone of stinging courtesy; but he had fastened 
 his compelling eyes sternly upon Kalinski. 
 
 " I I borrowed them," muttered the crest 
 fallen man, constrained to answer against his will. 
 The ludicrous lameness of this answer could not 
 but bring a smile to the lips of Philip and his 
 father. So nearly do pathos and bathos touch in 
 moments of supreme excitement. Every one re 
 mained silent for some little time. Mrs. McChes- 
 ney held the first picture of the Italian girl, and 
 contemplated it reflectively ; Flora kept her face 
 buried in her hands ; Mr. McChesney and Philip 
 evidently considered silence the better part of dis 
 cretion, the former occupying himself by stroking 
 his mustache with the spread-out thumb and fin 
 gers of his left hand, the latter twisting his legs 
 in a bow-knot under an inoffensive chair which 
 he was rapidly despoiling of its ornamental fringe ; 
 Karl Klinder took off his spectacles and proceeded 
 to give them an efficient but needless polishing 
 with his red silk handkerchief. 
 
 The tables, for a few moments at least, had 
 been unexpectedly turned. Marvelous self-con 
 trol, enabled Ferranti to stand before the little 
 group rather in the attitude of a judge before a
 
 90 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 group of criminals than that of a prisoner before 
 a jury. The nervous tension of the moment was 
 relieved by his stooping to pick up the photo 
 graph that Flora had dropped upon the floor. 
 He asked for the one held by Mrs. McChesney, 
 placed them both together, and slipped them under 
 the orange silk cover that protected his violin. 
 This commonplace movement and the composure 
 with which he locked the case, turning the key 
 in the lock with a vigorous snap, brought them 
 back to a sense of every-day life. Mr. McChes 
 ney rose and made a forward movement as if to 
 address Ferranti. Kalinski anticipated him. 
 
 " And the face that appeared to Miss Flora ? 
 How does Signor Ferranti explain it ! " 
 
 " Be careful, sir," said Mr. McChesney, sud 
 denly and explosively, " this matter has gone far 
 enough ! No further comments are necessary. 
 Both you and Signor Ferranti are guests in my 
 house ; do not you, sir, compel me to forget my 
 present duty as your host." 
 
 "Allow me to bid you good evening," said 
 Ferranti to Mrs. McChesney, who slightly bowed 
 in return. " Adieu, signorina," to Flora, who had 
 not taken her hands from her face. His voice 
 was not so firm as he uttered these two words. 
 Bowing then to the men in the room collectively, 
 he pushed aside the velvet portiere, against which 
 his pale, aquiline features and black hair and aris-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 91 
 
 tocratic figure stood out in high relief. At this 
 moment Flora suddenly rose and swept across 
 the room, her long, black dress folding closely 
 around her and giving added dignity to her slender 
 form, drawn now to its full height. 
 
 " Signor Ferranti," said she earnestly, offering 
 him her hand, " I believe your explanation ; I 
 believe your actions have been those -of an honor 
 able man. You have my sympathy for your pres 
 ent sorrow and my earnest hopes for your success 
 and future happiness." 
 
 Ferranti dropped the curtain, and an expres 
 sion of acute anguish crossed his face. He bent 
 forward to gravely imprint a kiss upon her ex 
 tended hand. 
 
 Flora stood still as he left the room. The 
 cold, tremulous lips and the clammy fingers that 
 had touched her own revealed the strain through 
 which the strong, sensitive nature had passed. She 
 felt instinctively that a farewell had been spoken, 
 that through this farewell had breathed resigna 
 tion to those higher spiritual laws which forbid 
 revenge or hatred or malice of a mortal toward 
 even the meanest of God s creatures ; and through 
 this farewell had also breathed the tenderness and 
 pride that would in future hold him far away 
 from the woman whom he loved. 
 
 The voice of Mr. McChesney roused Flora 
 from her sad reflections. " My daughter," said he,
 
 92 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " are you not over-impulsive ? We really do not 
 know, excepting from SignorFerranti s own words, 
 that he is not masquerading in borrowed plumage. 
 We know he is an agreeable man, but it seems to 
 me we ought to withhold our judgment for the 
 present." 
 
 " Father, your common sense is struggling hard 
 to gain the victory over feeling ; but you know as 
 well as I that his words and manner bear the 
 stamp of truth." 
 
 Mr. McChesney shook his head deprecatingly, 
 although he had been more impressed than lie 
 cared to acknowledge by Ferranti s quiet dignity. 
 
 "As for you," continued Flora scornfully, 
 turning to Kalinski, " you have maliciously dragged 
 to light the misfortunes of an artist and of a man 
 whose shoe-latchets you are not worthy to unloose. 
 You need not expect from me the forbearance 
 with which you have been treated by my father 
 and mother." 
 
 Kalinski s face grew dark, and he muttered, in 
 a sort of currish snarl, " He is a coward, this 
 Signor Ferranti." 
 
 " Coward, do you say ? " replied Flora. " He 
 is brave and manly enough to bear an imputation 
 of cowardice from you, out of respect to us. And 
 you well know his simple, straightforward state 
 ment is true in every particular." 
 
 " Flora, your defense of Signor Ferranti is very
 
 TEE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 93 
 
 uncalled for," said Mrs. McChesney, speaking in a 
 higher key than usual and gathering up her 
 worsted work preparatory to leaving the room. 
 " Whatever he may be as an artist, he is, accord 
 ing to his own statement, under a serious cloud, 
 and certainly he is married and he is obliged to 
 conceal the fact. I don t" like all this deception, 
 and I prefer that Signor Ferranti should not enter 
 my house again." And Mrs. McChesney adjusted 
 her fleecy shawl about her shoulders and shook 
 down the folds of her drapery, very much as a 
 motherly hen, foreseeing danger to her callow 
 brood, ruffles her feathers with an aggressive air 
 and gives vent to her anxiety by staccato clucks 
 and cackles. 
 
 " My dear, my dear," said Mr. McChesney, 
 with a suspicion of a smile. 
 
 " Well, you never think my judgment is worth 
 anything, but I tell you there may lie more danger 
 than you think in his future visits." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken, Josephine." Mr. 
 McChesney rarely called his wife by the stately 
 name which seemed inappropriate to her rotund 
 figure and amiable face ; whenever he did so, it 
 indicated a subtle rebuke. " This is really a prof 
 itless subject of discussion," he added, giving time 
 for the " Josephine " to work in her mind. 
 
 " I am sure / am perfectly willing to drop the 
 matter," said Mrs. McChesney in an aggrieved
 
 94 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 tone ; " but Signer Ferranti shall not come here 
 if my wishes are to be consulted." 
 
 " I don t see, mother, that his music is any 
 the worse for his being unfortunately married," 
 said Philip ; " and, if his explanation is true, I can 
 not see any just ground for withholding our hos 
 pitality. But we should all consider it wrong to 
 make you uncomfortable. We can stand his ab 
 sence much better than we can your displeasure." 
 
 " Well, it is hard to know what to say or 
 think," Mrs. McChesney responded in a mollified 
 tone, evidently due to this deft tribute to her au 
 thority. 
 
 " You are all troubling yourselves unnecessa 
 rily. Signor Ferranti will not be here again," 
 broke in Flora brusquely and harshly as she left 
 the room.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FLORA S prediction proved true. Before the 
 evening of the next weekly rehearsal of the quar 
 tet Mr. McChesney received the following note : 
 
 " MY DEAR Mr. MCCHESNEY : I am suffering 
 from a severe attack of congestion of the lungs. 
 I would like to see you, and I therefore ask you 
 as a favor to kindly call at my boarding-house as 
 soon as convenient. 
 
 " Very sincerely, yours, 
 
 " GIULIO FERRANTI. 
 
 " No. 9 WOODLAND AVENUE." 
 
 Mr. McChesney wasted no time in obeying 
 this summons. The same afternoon on which he 
 had received the note he mounted the shabby steps 
 and stood on the narrow stoop of one of those 
 high, ungainly, dry - goods - box structures that 
 money-making butchers and keepers of beer-sa 
 loons are wont to put up in country towns. These 
 structures may smother the sense of the beautiful 
 in form among the middle classes, but that will
 
 96 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 not disturb the miud of the owner. Verily, no ; 
 so that he could get one per cent more for his 
 investment he would willingly, gladly, sweep all 
 budding Raphaels, Murillos, and Da Vincis from 
 the surface of the earth. The suburban town is 
 unluckily a haven of refuge for the inartistic, 
 cheap-John landlord who plants his foot against 
 the wheel of progress. He is not in good odor in 
 the larger cities, for their architects and builders 
 recognize well the facts that beauty is not incom 
 patible with economy, and that a Queen Anne front 
 or a Gothic window will cover a multitude of 
 deficiencies to the house-hunter of aesthetic mind. 
 Mr. McChesney gave a shudder as he looked up 
 at the straight fagade, unrelieved by a single win 
 dow-cap or tasteful projection. The warm sun 
 brought out severely the smudgy drawings left by 
 the wet - fingered storm, and the faded pinkish 
 streaks upon the red window shades which diversi 
 fied the sickly yellow of the long-since painted 
 front. A dingy maid-servant, with open mouth 
 and a wisp of hair drooping at right angles toward 
 her shoulder, came to the door and declared that 
 the " third-floor back " could see no one, " not 
 even his own mother he was that sick." Mr. 
 McChesney insisted on sending up his card. She 
 reluctantly mounted the stairs, at the head of 
 which she soon appeared again with the statement, 
 " He says you kin git up," delivered in a subdued,
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 97 
 
 confidential whisper, accompanied by a series of 
 patronizing nods. 
 
 Mr. McChesney made his way around the 
 sharp corners of one of those dark narrow hall 
 ways which economically utilize every inch of 
 room at the expense of light and cheerfulness and 
 comfort, and, after a temporary difficulty with 
 two belligerent steps, invisible in the semi-dark 
 ness, he reached Ferranti s room. The signor 
 was lying upon a lounge in front of a small open 
 grate in which feebly burned a few knotty sticks 
 of wood ; he made an ineffectual attempt to sit up 
 as Mr. McChesney entered. 
 
 " Do not rise, I beg of you," said the latter 
 hastily ; " it is not at all necessary. I am sorry to 
 see you looking so ill," he continued, holding Fer 
 ranti s hand and noting the thin, flushed face and 
 heavy eyes. " How did you happen to come down 
 so suddenly ? " 
 
 " Some carelessness during these damp, chill 
 evenings, I suppose," answered Ferranti. " The 
 ubiquitous ego doesn t always assert itself at 
 the right time. I don t know, though, that I 
 should say the ego when we all of us seem to 
 have two, one occupied with abstract questions and 
 the other with material matters. Sometimes one 
 dominates us and sometimes the other. The sen 
 sible man seems to be the one who compels his 
 two egos to live in peace and harmony, who 
 7
 
 98 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 doesn t allow either one to gain supremacy above 
 the other." 
 
 "I quite agree with you, excepting the l all 
 of us, " Mr. McChesney replied. " Two thirds 
 of us, poor mortals that we are, can only claim the 
 Philistine ego. We are like the well-fed citizen 
 of Goslar who tells Heine that trees are green be 
 cause green is good for the eyes. And if some 
 sympathetic Heine agrees with us and assures us 
 in return that the Lord has made cattle because 
 beef soup strengthens man, and that jackasses 
 are created for the purpose of serving as compari 
 sons, and that man exists so that he may eat beef 
 soup and realize that he is no jackass well, then, 
 we, too, are sensibly moved, and go on our way 
 rejoicing." 
 
 Ferranti smiled and said : 
 " It is considerate of you to say we." 
 " Yes, yes," Mr. McChesney went on rather 
 hastily. " The trail of the serpent is over us all 
 to a greater or less degree. It takes a good many 
 small atoms to make a perfect being. And, after 
 all, this lumpishness of the beef-eater serves as a 
 good balance-wheel to hold erratic pendulums in 
 place. Still, I confess my weakness ; I can t quite 
 cure myself of a desire to kick a stupid man." 
 
 " And I confess that I have sometimes a desire 
 to kick myself," Ferranti said. 
 
 Mr. McChesney had drawn a chair to the side
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 99 
 
 of the lounge, and with a sort of womanish ten 
 derness he now adjusted the pillows behind Fer- 
 ranti s head and spread the afghan smoothly over 
 him. Presently Ferranti said : 
 
 " I have sent for you, Mr. McChesney, because 
 I feel that I ought to prove the falsity of Kalinski s 
 assertion. I owe it to you, and in fact I owe it 
 to myself to do so. Here is the key to the closet 
 over there ; and if I may trouble you to bring me 
 the two caskets you will find there " 
 
 Mr. McChesney went to the corner of the 
 room, and, as directed, brought to Ferranti two cas 
 kets, one of sandal wood with quaint silver clasps, 
 and the other of ivory curiously inlaid with 
 mother-of-pearl and gold. While Ferranti un 
 locked them and began to examine the papers 
 which he took from the casket with silver bands, 
 Mr. McChesney looked around the room with 
 some curiosity. It revealed a refined taste and 
 the habits of a luxurious past battling with and 
 baffling the commonness of poverty. The furni 
 ture was cheap and ordinary ; the floor was cov 
 ered with matting, not altogether spotless or in 
 good repair, but it was partly concealed by three 
 tiger - skin rugs ; the windows were hung with 
 soft yellow silken draperies, through which shone 
 a mellow autumnal light ; over a shabby, square 
 deal table was thrown a dark velvet cover, elabo 
 rately embroidered ; and on the chintz - covered
 
 100 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 couch was spread an afghan of Persian colors 
 blended as harmoniously as the leaves of one of 
 our Northern autumn forests in late October. The 
 spaces each side the shallow chimney had been 
 filled with pine shelves; and on one side stood 
 the works of the great composers in handsome 
 dark bindings, while on the other appeared vol 
 umes of the philosophers and poets mingled with 
 psychological works, old and new. Above the 
 mantel a dark blue cloth had been stretched to 
 the ceiling, and on it were arranged a number of 
 swords, rapiers, daggers, poniards, stilettos, to 
 gether with an Arabian cimeter, a Scotch clay 
 more, and a Mexican bowie-knife. A handsome 
 sword with damaskeened blade and jeweled han 
 dle drew an exclamation of interest from Mr. 
 McChesney, and he walked across the room to 
 consider it more closely. 
 
 Ferranti glanced up from the package of pa 
 pers he was examining, now and then pulling out 
 one in a woman s handwriting 
 
 " That sword," he said, " belonged to my fa 
 ther. He was a great traveler in his day, and 
 made quite a collection of weapons. I carry a few 
 about with me, more to remind me of him than 
 from any special interest in them." 
 
 " This workmanship is extremely fine," said 
 Mr. McChesney. 
 
 " Yes ; the sword was given to my father by
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 101 
 
 the Sultan of Turkey, to whom he rendered some 
 little service. It has more artistic than murderous 
 merit, I imagine, though." 
 
 " I wish that could be said of all our weapons 
 of warfare," Mr. McChesney quickly remarked. 
 " What an absurdity for human beings to kill each 
 other instead of learning to adjust their difficulties 
 by moral means ! We are a long way yet from civ 
 ilization, if we use the word in its right sense." 
 
 " I shall be glad," said Ferranti grimly, " when 
 the underlying spirit of Christian law really gets 
 to the surface. So far, in the questions that come 
 up for settlement between nations, we are theoret 
 ically altruists, but practically Zulus." 
 
 As Mr. McChesney sat down again Ferranti 
 laid his papers by his side and unlocked the other 
 casket. It proved to be merely an outer covering 
 for a blue velvet jewel-case enlaced with gold fili 
 gree. From this he took a folded paper which he 
 handed to Mr. McChesney. It was a marriage 
 certificate, attesting in due form the marriage of 
 Anita Bartolomeo to Giulio Ferranti at the Church 
 of Santa Maria in Via. 
 
 Mr. McChesney handed it back with the 
 words : " This is quite unnecessary, Signor Fer 
 ranti ; I am convinced of Kalinski s mistake to 
 give him the benefit of every possible doubt." 
 
 " But it is as well to make assurance doubly 
 sure," said the signer in return, smiling sadly and
 
 102 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 replacing the paper in the jewel case, from which 
 shone a sudden glitter cf diamonds as the lid was 
 raised and lowered. " These letters," continued 
 he, " were written by my mother," and he gave 
 Mr. McChesney those he had selected from the 
 package. " Please read passages indicated by pen 
 cil marks. My boy is tinder the care of a nurse, 
 and lives in a cottage near my mother s home. 
 She sees him nearly every day." 
 
 The first passage read by Mr. McChesney ran 
 as follows, in Italian : 
 
 " I saw little Luigi this morning. He grows 
 finely and bids fair to become the image of you 
 when you were a boy. Padre Girolomo declares 
 he will be a poet, he is so intoxicated with delight 
 at the roses now in full bloom. He will lie under 
 the big rose tree that fills the southeast corner of 
 the garden wall and look contentedly at the blue 
 sky for an hour, which is certainly a long time for 
 a boy of five to keep still." 
 
 Another passage was : " Luigi is so full of mis 
 chief. To-day he wound the kitten up in a sort 
 of harness made of the bright-colored worsteds he 
 had stolen from my work-basket ; and yesterday 
 he insisted upon helping old Paolo in the garden. 
 He dulled the best hoe against the stones, and 
 weeded up, as he said, a bed of the crisp young 
 lettuce Paolo is preparing for market." 
 
 Still another : " The boy has little recollection
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 103 
 
 of you, and none at all, I am happy to say, of his 
 unfortunate mother. Oh, my son, when I think 
 of your wrecked happiness, of all that you have 
 endured through that woman, I am tempted to 
 forget my religion and rebel at the injustice of 
 your position." 
 
 Other passages, which in spite of Mr. McChes- 
 ney s remonstrances he was compelled to read, 
 spoke of " Anita " as " no better," as " more quiet, 
 so the doctors tell me," as having made, " since I 
 wrote before, a violent and nearly successful at 
 tempt at suicide " ; or, " better, with one quite lucid 
 interval last week," and so on, with many details 
 of home life, and everywhere glimpses of the 
 sympathy and tenderness of a refined, educated 
 woman for her absent son. Here and there were 
 references to money sent which had been laid out 
 to good advantage for Anita s comfort or Luigi s 
 benefit, or to keep the cottage household in good 
 order. Mr. McChesney could not fail to be touched 
 by these letters, and by the spirit which prompted 
 the Italian to insist upon his reading them. 
 
 " I need not say that your confidence in me is 
 entirely appreciated," remarked Mr. McChesney, 
 Avhile Ferranti relocked the caskets. 
 
 " And I am very sorry that I can not juct now 
 tell you my reasons for remaining silent in regard 
 to my real name and position. It will only be a 
 few months, I believe, before I can write to you
 
 104: THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 all that I feel bound to conceal now ; and, while 
 all the shadows can not be lifted entirely from my 
 past, you will at least learn that I have not been, 
 and am not now, unworthy of your hospitality and 
 your friendship. I shall probably see you no more, 
 unless you come to bid me good-by, for I have de 
 cided to accept a good offer to travel in South 
 America. This spring dampness is having a bad 
 effect upon my lungs ; and as others are dependent 
 upon me I recognize the necessity of taking care of 
 my health." 
 
 " But you will take dinner with us once more ? " 
 Mr. McChesney asked, rashly forgetful of his wife s 
 last positive command when he left the house. 
 
 " Pardon me ; I think not. My preparations 
 will take some little time and well the past has 
 been called back so vividly that I do not feel equal 
 to saying a verbal good-by to your family. My 
 visits to your house have been sunny breaks in the 
 anxieties which beset me, but it is better now, I 
 think, to send my adieus through you." 
 
 A few warm words of regret from Mr. McChes 
 ney, and the two men parted ; one to resume as 
 usual his life of leisurely, inoffensive comfort, the 
 other to break away as quickly as possible from an 
 enthralling love which was gradually undermining 
 his reasoning powers and his sense of honor. Fer- 
 ranti knew only too well that after the noble dig 
 nity with which Flora had asserted her confidence
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 1Q5 
 
 in him, he could not see her again without falling 
 upon his knees before her and crying out his need 
 of the love that he sometimes wildly whispered to 
 himself belonged to him, was the birthright of 
 which he had been cruelly defrauded. The rever 
 ence of a child for the Madonna ; the appreciation 
 of an artist for an artist ; the love of a man for a 
 woman ; the sense of possession, of the power of a 
 strong masculine will over the gentler feminine 
 will ; the knowledge of the barriers that stood be 
 tween them all struggled in his mind, like op 
 posing waves tossing him hither and thither over 
 the ocean of thought, until worn out by his con 
 tending emotions he lost the power to sleep and 
 would lie all night in wide-eyed, helpless exhaus 
 tion. As the time came nearer for his departure 
 his strong will reasserted itself. He determined 
 to pack his books and other belongings and to sail 
 upon the appointed day. At first the remedy of 
 mechanical work gave him some relief from his 
 torturing misery ; but his frame was already too 
 weakened to endure any physical exertion. He 
 rapidly grew worse and succumbed to an attack of 
 typhoid fever. The fever lasted nearly two 
 months. During this time he was visited almost 
 daily by Mr. McChesney or Philip, and even by 
 Karl Klinder, who puffed his way up the narrow 
 stairs to shake his head ominously at the thin face 
 and burning eyes of the sick man. These were
 
 106 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 the only visitors allowed in the room, although 
 many of the inhabitants of Medalhurst offered 
 kindly help forgetting all their past suspicion in 
 present sympathy. 
 
 One day Philip took a bunch of flowers to the 
 sick man. 
 
 " Flora sent them my sister sent them to 
 you," he whispered, bending over the pillow. 
 
 Ferranti opened his eyes languidly, and mo 
 tioned that they should be put on the pillow near 
 him. All that afternoon he rested quietly, now 
 and then turning his head to inhale the dewy 
 freshness of the blossoms ; but hot thoughts were 
 rushing through his brain. That night he was in 
 a wild delirium. What maddening fancies gal 
 loped like iron-hoofed horses through his aching 
 head ! Now these pink roses became the soft 
 pink cheeks whose bloom he had so longed to 
 touch ; and these rich red roses did they not 
 hold the sweetness of the lips so far beyond his 
 reach? and the tall white lilies there was the 
 stately full white throat rising from shoulders of 
 snowy whiteness ; and the fragrance of the jas 
 mine stars that floated out to his nostrils was it 
 not the warm, sweet breath of his beloved ? His 
 beloved ! no other s, for cold as they might call 
 her he knew the hidden fire that smoldered be 
 neath her quiet pansy-hued eyes. Cold, did they 
 call her cold, his stately darling? He could warm
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 107 
 
 her with the fire of his caresses. He Avho could 
 check and control himself to win her by the force 
 of higher laws, he could show her, and he only, 
 the warm human love that should bind them 
 closer and closer in the passion of eternal love. 
 And then he dreamed of the cool ferns which she 
 had plucked from the mossy banks along a spark 
 ling brook. He would take her he would fly with 
 her away from these puny offsprings of a northern 
 clime, and amid the tropic glories of the south 
 he would whisper the glowing words that he had 
 choked down and buried in this icy atmosphere. 
 He gave wild shrieks of delight as he figured to 
 himself the hopeless task of tearing her from his 
 enclasping arms. There were demons in those 
 flowers, and he called on them by fantastic names 
 to fly to his assistance when he bore her her, his 
 love, his life, his soul, away, away, away ! 
 
 So imagination, uncontrolled by reason, dragged 
 Ferranti hither and thither, through scenes of 
 ecstasy and through scenes of torture ; through 
 dreams of the past and then on to dreams of the 
 future ; but ever and again his frenzied fancy 
 circled back to the flowers which he confounded 
 with his beloved. All attempt to remove the 
 flowers but redoubled his delirium. That night 
 four men could scarcely hold him. For days 
 thereafter he hovered between life and death. But 
 the vital force was not yet exhaused. Slowly he
 
 108 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 came back to life, slowly and surely he recovered 
 strength. It was, however, only a poor, weak 
 image of his former self that struggled one day 
 out into the warm sunlight and the mild April 
 air spiced with budding lilacs. And it was with 
 sad faces that Mr. McChesney and Philip, and a 
 few acquaintances whom Ferranti cared for, went 
 with him to the steamer, a week later, and watched 
 him sail away to fulfill the engagements he re 
 fused to break.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DUEIXG the year that followed Ferranti s de 
 parture, the McChesneys lived quietly, as usual, 
 holding themselves somewhat aloof from the imi 
 tative routine of city life that characterized Medal- 
 hurst, but keeping thoroughly in harmony with 
 the literary and musical atmosphere of the time. 
 Occasionally they would entertain some notable 
 guest, but for the most part they preferred to en 
 joy without restraint the luxurious freedom of an 
 almost ideal country life. It is, when one thinks 
 of it, a saving grace of humanity that the better 
 portion of it loves the quiet of the country. Even 
 if the stimulus of the city is needed by an artist or 
 a poet to develop his creative powers, or by a busi 
 ness man to arouse his capacity for work, still 
 there lurks in the background of his mind an ap 
 preciative fondness for what has been created inca 
 pable of sin ; a love for the sturdy, straightforward 
 trees, the cheerful, charitable grass, the brilliant 
 free-growing flowers in field and wood, the crystal 
 line purity of the wandering brook, and the thun 
 derous majesty of the flying torrent ; and by this
 
 110 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 love he proves himself worthy of Him in whose 
 image he was made ; so that whether he call him 
 self pantheist, theist, Christian, or agnostic, he is 
 by this token part and parcel of the good warring 
 eternally with the powers of evil. 
 
 One afternoon in the middle of May, when 
 June seemed to laughingly peep through interlac 
 ing young green elm. leaves and pink-flushed apple 
 boughs, Flora was seized with the restlessness that 
 pervades the atmosphere of awakening summer. 
 She could not adapt herself to her wonted occupa 
 tions, and, taking her garden hat wreathed around 
 with a spray of wild roses, she wandered through 
 the grounds. Though her cheeks were paler than 
 the year before she had not grown less lovely 
 through her sorrow, and in the soft blue dress she 
 wore she seemed a fitting expression of the deli 
 cate, misty beauty of the day. 
 
 Dreamily she noted the many signs of advanc 
 ing summer the clusters of dark-blue violets 
 shadowing the bright green of the fresh-grown 
 grass ; the yellow dandelions starring the pathway 
 at either side and shining under long rows of Nor 
 way pines, as yellow lamp-lights shine along a 
 country street on some o erclouded night; the 
 thousand furry catkins bursting to variegated beau 
 ty along the upward-pointing branches of the sea 
 side willows ; a bed of tulips and yellow daffodils 
 and overscented jonquils, flashing as they swayed to
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 and fro under the warm breeze like the jewels of an 
 Eastern queen. A robin sang gayly in the branch 
 es of a knotted oak where her nest was being built. 
 It was a day for love and happiness, and Flora as 
 she slowly rambled through the fields bitterly re 
 proached herself for her discontent. " Why can 
 I not be happy ? " she asked herself. " Am I so 
 weak and childish that I must have all I wish in 
 order to be cheerful ? Have I no work to do, no 
 mission to accomplish, no return to make for the 
 gift of life and the gift of eyes to see the beauty of 
 the world, that I must cry like a sickly child for a 
 treasure beyond my reach ? " She walked for sever 
 al hours, now and then sitting down to rest under 
 some leafy tree through whose overhanging branch 
 es she could see the peaceful sky that bent its sooth 
 ing gaze upon her as a mother glances downward 
 at a fretting child. But in spite of Flora s efforts 
 to hold herself in sympathy with the cheerful life 
 about her, she grew more and more unhappy. The 
 image of Ferranti was constantly before her eyes ; 
 now grave and melancholy as he would sit before 
 beginning to play, now radiant with the fire of 
 genius as he became absorbed in the glorious har 
 monies of the master composers he loved. 
 
 When she went slowly up the sweeping grav 
 eled walk that led to the house, she saw her father 
 sitting upon the broad piazza. He was comforta 
 bly reading the evening papers and smoking at the
 
 112 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 same time a long pipe. She went up to him and 
 put one arm over his shoulder with a gentle, ca 
 ressing motion. 
 
 " Papa, dear," said she, " I feel as if something 
 were about to happen. I can not shake off the 
 impression." 
 
 Her father looked a moment into her troubled 
 eyes, then rose, threw down his paper, and took 
 his pipe out of his mouth. 
 
 " Well," said he quizzically, " something is going 
 to happen. The dinner bell is going to ring in a 
 few minutes ; and after you have shaken the dust 
 from the hem of your garments and smoothed your 
 haloish locks, you are going to exchange your pre 
 sentiment for pie a game pie, too one of those 
 fascinating, but indigestible pies that will take you 
 back to old English romances and remind you of 
 Emerson. You know what he said on his Western 
 trip to a man who constantly refused pie : Why, 
 Mr. B ! What is pie for ? " 
 
 " I think I ought to know that story, for I was 
 the one who told it to you, or rather read it to you. 
 I don t care for second-hand jokes greatly myself." 
 
 " You consider this one pi-racy, eh ? " said Mr. 
 McChesney gravely. Flora shrugged her shoul 
 ders and ran up-stairs, while Mr. McChesney, satis 
 fied to have banished for the moment her troubled 
 look, shook his head thoughtfully as he put 
 away his pipe.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. H3 
 
 At dinner Flora seemed to have quite recovered 
 her cheerfulness. Afterward she went into the 
 music room. Mr. McChesney followed, took out his 
 viola, and began to tune it in a leisurely way while 
 he walked with slow and measured steps up and 
 down the room. As Flora sat down to the piano 
 she shivered two or three times with uncontrolla 
 ble nervousness. The soft, warm wind blew in at 
 the open window and with a sudden gust swayed 
 the silken fringe of the lamp-shades and ruffled 
 the light curls on her forehead. 
 
 " I think we shall have a storm to-night," said 
 her father, stopping by the front window to look 
 out into the sky, where the lingering tints of a 
 bright sunset were disappearing under mounting 
 piles of gloomy vapor. 
 
 Flora ran her fingers lightly over the keys. 
 Suddenly she stopped and spoke to her father, who 
 was occupied with a refractory string. 
 
 "Father, something has happened. Signer 
 Ferranti is coming." Saying thus, she arose and 
 walked hesitatingly to the middle of the room as 
 if uncertain whether to go or stay. 
 
 Mr. McChesney started and turned toward the 
 door. No one was there and no sound could be 
 heard. He listened for a few moments, then 
 snapped a string impatiently. A rapid footstep 
 was heard upon the gravel walk, the old-fashioned 
 bell sounded a sharp, quick peal, and in a mo- 
 8
 
 11-1 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ment Ferranti s voice was heard through the open 
 door. 
 
 He came in carrying his violin-case in his hand. 
 He was browner and stouter than he had ever 
 appeared before, and he seemed to radiate an at 
 mosphere of singular vivacity. His eyes sparkled. 
 He greeted Flora gently, whispering something 
 softly under his breath as he bent over her hand. 
 She did not hear the words, but she felt that in 
 them he had breathed a lingering caress, and that 
 in the firm clasp of his hand, he had expressed a 
 confidence and a hope. He had moreover about 
 him that unmistakable generous air which betokens 
 a man ready to embrace the whole world the 
 poor, wicked, world, that only gets its sins forgiven 
 now and then in toto by the man who sees a dream 
 of happiness take shape before him. 
 
 Owing to Flora s uncanny announcement ilr. 
 McChesney shook hands with Ferranti in a some 
 what puzzled fashion, and then asked with some 
 energy : " But but where did you come from so 
 unexpectedly ? You drop in upon us like a an 
 angel unawares/ 
 
 " It is very good of you to imply that I drop 
 from heaven, but it happens I come from a less 
 celestial region. I am straight from Valparaiso. I 
 reached Kew York this morning, and came out 
 here at once ; for I had a double purpose in com 
 ing." Here he hesitated. Flora made a slight
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. H5 
 
 movement to leave the room, but Signer Ferranti, 
 with a stately courtliness, took her by the hand 
 and led her to a chair by which, when she was 
 seated, he remained standing, one hand resting 
 lightly on the high carved back. 
 
 " However and whyever you came, you are cer 
 tainly welcome," Mr. McChesney said cordially, 
 seeing that his guest was still unready to speak. 
 " I only hope you have missed us half as much 
 this winter as we have missed you. I find to my 
 sorrow that I had learned to depend upon one pa 
 tient listener to my theories and speculations. I 
 hope your stay here will not be a short one." 
 
 " A very short one, I fear. A letter has been 
 following me from place to place for two months, 
 and it only overtook me at Valparaiso. I canceled 
 all engagements, and left for New York by the 
 first steamer ; for the letter informed me of the 
 death of my unfortunate wife. She died about 
 three months ago at the asylum where she was 
 confined. By a singular coincidence, I received 
 at the same time a letter from my mother, an 
 nouncing the death of her only brother about a 
 month ago at Eome. On account of his death it 
 is necessary for me to return to Italy at once. My 
 principal reason in coming out here to-day is "- 
 and again Ferranti hesitated " to well to ask 
 your permission to tell your daughter of my love 
 for her and to ask her to become my wife."
 
 HC TPIE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 This second surprise proved almost too much 
 for Mr. McChesney. He recklessly dropped his 
 fiddle-bow and sat down upon the nearest chair. 
 He had considered that Signor Ferranti s interest 
 in the McChesney family was purely a musical 
 and literary interest in which Hugh McChesney 
 himself proved the pivot around which Ferranti s 
 thoughts revolved. Mr. McChesney did not pick 
 up his bow, but folded his arms resignedly. 
 
 Ferranti continued, his voice growing more 
 impassioned : " It was impossible for me to help 
 loving her. Since the first moment I saw her she 
 has been to me the realization of the ideal which 
 haunted me in my music and ever fluttered above 
 me on heavenly wings, mocking my loneliness and 
 proving at once my solace and my despair. I did 
 not think my aspirations would ever be gratified. 
 I dared not hope to enter the lists with others that 
 I might prove the depth and sincerity of my adora 
 tion. I tried neither by word nor look to betray 
 myself. I would not, if I could help it, hint of 
 my longing love while under this cloud of unhap- 
 piness that has smothered me held me in a vice 
 which has made it impossible sometimes to draw a 
 free long breath ; and though there might seem 
 a law of justice that would free me from the bur 
 den of a clanking chain about my neck, I dared 
 not insult the purity of a noble woman by asking 
 her to link her name with one who, however inno-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. H7 
 
 cent himself, must bear the stigma of divorce. 
 But I felt sometimes that the subtle mysterious 
 current that runs from heart to heart, and that 
 pulses through the harmonies of the music we have 
 played together, must indicate my love, my sorrow, 
 my repression. I am free now to say to her what I 
 wish. May I speak to her ? " And he drew a labored 
 breath. Mr. McChesney did not look up or speak. 
 
 "\Vith a tremor in his voice, Ferranti continued : 
 " My haste would seem unpardonable but, I have 
 waited so long. I must, as I said before, return at 
 once to Italy, and I can not remain here, I can 
 not stay in the same house with her without know 
 ing whether I may waken to a new life or sleep 
 again in the dullness of cold endurance." 
 
 There was a curious little downward droop of 
 bitterness in Mr. McChesney s smile as he an 
 swered : " But in America we get the daughter s 
 consent before we ask the father s. You will have 
 to consult my daughter. I shall not stand in the 
 way of her happiness if it is to be assured in this 
 way. You shall talk with her." lie looked kindly 
 at his daughter as he spoke, but his step was not 
 light, nor his movement brisk as he put aside the 
 silken hangings and passed into the hall. 
 
 Oh that golden moment when two are alone con 
 scious of their mutual love and conscious for the 
 first time that all obstacles to its expression are
 
 118 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 removed ! Ferranti s face grew pale with intense 
 emotion as he approached Flora. He saw that 
 her hazel eyes were suffused with unshed tears 
 when she put her hand in his with trembling con 
 fidence. He drew her closer and closer to him in 
 a silent embrace born of peace and of the perfect 
 love which purifies all passion and lifts men and 
 women to kinship with the angels. How well 
 this moment repaid the nervous tension, the weary 
 strain of endurance of the past slow-dragging year ! 
 A shower of liquid Italian words, dropping from 
 his lips, broke the stillness as gently as the down 
 ward flutter of a thousand ripe rose petals breaks 
 the quiet of the southern summer night. 
 
 Swiftly passed the moments of love and si 
 lence and happiness and murmuring words. The 
 hurrying shadows gradually filled the room, the 
 light faded from the evening sky ; a sudden wind 
 swished up from the west and clashed the tree-tops 
 together with that hissing energy which marks the 
 prelude to a thunder-storm ; the blinds slammed 
 to and fro, and soon the rain-drops, driven against 
 the window-panes, sounded a tinkling treble and 
 a droning base to the irregular ryhthmic accent of 
 the surging winds. Neither Fcrranti nor Flora, 
 occupied as they both were with their own thoughts 
 and with the low-toned broken words that half ex 
 pressed emotion, paid attention to the storm until 
 a vivid lightning flash lit up the room and simul-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. H9 
 
 taneously a crashing thunder-clap burst above 
 them, as if Jupiter Pluvius himself would so ex 
 press a disapproval of too much mortal happiness. 
 
 Flora rang for lights. When she sat down 
 again Ferranti smoothed back her golden hair and 
 asked her a whispered question. She turned her 
 face to his in amazement, as she said : " What ! 
 play the Rubinstein sonata ; now, and here ? How 
 can you ask it ? " 
 
 " Why not, my darling ? It is time your fears 
 were set at rest. We must be one in soul ; if there 
 is any lingering shadow of disturbance in your 
 mind, let us drive it away now." 
 
 Flora still looked at him wonderingly, but she 
 arose and placed the music on the piano. When 
 all was ready Ferranti came over to the piano and 
 stood by her as he had stood so many times before. 
 With the hesitation of true affection he had re 
 frained from kissing her lips, though he had 
 snatched a thousand kisses from her hands, her 
 hair, and her flushed cheeks. He bent now above 
 her, drew back her head, and calling her for the 
 first time by her name, said : 
 
 " Flora, carissima, are you afraid of me ? " 
 
 Mastered by the fiery splendor of those brilliant 
 forceful eyes, Flora felt all minor thoughts disap 
 pear as stubble before a fire. " No, not afraid," 
 she murmured. " I know that I love you. I 
 know too that you are the only one who can bend
 
 120 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 me to your will. But had you ten times the 
 power that I know you must possess, still I would 
 trust you. I am willing to lose my identity in 
 yours; lam no more myself I am you." And 
 the swift color swept in waves from her white neck 
 to her delicately veined forehead, though she did 
 not drop her clear blue-gray eyes. 
 
 The great wave of feeling that rose from Fer- 
 ranti s heart blurred his eyes and chilled his hands. 
 He remained very quiet however, looking long into 
 the sweet womanly face uplifted to his ; and his 
 voice was husky when he said : 
 
 " So do I reverently take your dear heart and 
 life and soul into my keeping." 
 
 Then, and for the first time, he pressed a kiss 
 upon her lips. And there came over him a mighty 
 quiver, like that which shook the strong trees by 
 the window, and he raised himself with an effort, 
 and seizing his violin bow looked downward at the 
 rose-red face of her whom he loved. " So small 
 you are, so dainty and so sweet," he whispered, 
 "and yet I tremble at your power." Then he 
 began the sonata, and invested with newer, richer 
 meaning the harmonies bore the lovers away 
 
 upon 
 
 The tides of music s golden sea 
 Setting toward eternity. 
 
 Faith and love illuminated Flora s face. "Would 
 the restless spirit of the past be conquered ?
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ix the mean time Mr. McChesney had gone to 
 hunt for his wife. After vainly searching through 
 every room, he found her in one corner of the 
 garden back of the house, where she was superin 
 tending the work of planting a young Chinese 
 magnolia. A fresh odor rose from the rich brown 
 earth, and the grass and flowers seemed to hold 
 themselves upright in anxious expectation of the 
 coming rain. Mr. McChesney sniffed the grate 
 ful moisture in the air. 
 
 " My dear," said he, " hadn t you better come 
 in ? It is going to rain." 
 
 "Yes, I know it; but the house is not far 
 away." 
 
 " I have something to tell you the gardener 
 can do that alone." 
 
 " Wait till this is done ; I want to see it done 
 properly. Why can t you tell me here ? " steady 
 ing the top of the bush as she spoke. 
 
 " It is too important." 
 
 " Well, it can t be important enough for me to 
 leave this. I bought it myself this afternoon ; and
 
 122 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 it is just the right time to set it out before a 
 storm." She proceeded to adjust with her own 
 fingers some delicate root-tendrils, and received 
 thereby a shower of dirt on her hands from the 
 spade of the unobserving gardener. 
 
 " There ! your ruffles are spoiled," said Mr. 
 McChesney. 
 
 " Well, my temper isn t, any way," said she, 
 calmly wiping her soiled hands on a dainty em 
 broidered handkerchief. 
 
 Mr. McChesney turned away and paced steadily 
 up and down the broad asphaltum walk, until the 
 stout little lady made a flushed but triumphant 
 appearance at his side. Then he took her possess 
 ively under one arm and walked her quickly into 
 the library. 
 
 " What is your important news ? " she asked, 
 taking up a palm-leaf fan and using it energeti 
 cally. 
 
 Mr. McChesney walked two or three times 
 around the room and then gazed reflectively out 
 of the Avindow. Mrs. McChesney, used to his 
 ways, waited until he had apparently studied to 
 his heart s content each separate tree on the lawn ; 
 then 
 
 " Hugh ! Hugh ! " she said ; " why don t you 
 say what you want to ? " 
 
 " Well, I hardly think my news will suit you, 
 my dear."
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 123 
 
 " It certainly will not suit me any better to 
 have you delay so long in telling it. It generally 
 takes you five hours to get out something that I 
 could say in five minutes." Mrs. McChesney s 
 patience was becoming exhausted. 
 
 " Well m mmph ! " the latter ejaculation 
 somewhat decisive "I saw Signor Ferranti this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Did you ? Where ? What is he doing hero, 
 so suddenly ? " 
 
 " I suppose he has a right to come here, hasn t 
 he ? You wouldn t keep him out of the place, 
 would you ? " Mr. McChesney shot out these sen 
 tences with considerable vigor as he began to real 
 ize his latent weakness. 
 
 " Perhaps he has and perhaps he hasn t. It s 
 just according to one s point of view." 
 
 " He is here in town, and you will probably see 
 him. I hope, for my sake, Josephine, that you 
 will receive him with some show of friendliness." 
 
 " When do you expect him ? " with ominous 
 quietness. 
 
 " Th-er-the fact is, he is here now." 
 
 " Here now ! And you have sent Flora to en 
 tertain him ! I never saw such a man ! Are you 
 crazy, Hugh McChesney ? " And she started for 
 ward as if to leave the room. 
 
 " Wait, wait, a moment," said her husband with 
 outward bravery if with some inward trepidation :
 
 12i THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " Your objection to married men does not avail any 
 more his wife is dead." And Mr. McChesney, 
 conscious that his sympathies were with the lovers ? 
 bent a smiling, antagonistic gaze upon his wife. 
 
 " Oh, that is enough ! " said Mrs. McChesney, 
 sinking back in her chair and clicking her fan 
 sharply against a table by her side. 
 
 Mr. McChesney was agreeably surprised. He 
 had quite expected an hysterical outburst. But 
 Mrs. McChesney continued : " That means that 
 he will ask Flora to marry him a poor violinist, 
 a concert player, a " 
 
 " But an artist and a gentleman," interrupted 
 her husband. " Besides, she may refuse him." 
 
 " Refuse him ! I think, Hugh, you have more 
 penetration than the rest of your sex but I pity 
 the rest of them. Did you ever knovv a woman to 
 refuse the man she really cared for when she could 
 accept him, excepting in some three- volume Eng 
 lish novel. No," she continued, sighing, " she will 
 not refuse him ; I saw the possibilities a year ago. 
 Oh, Hugh ! what can be done ? " 
 
 " If she loves him, dear, there is nothing to be 
 done but for us to make the best of it," said Mr. 
 McChesney with commonplace philosophy. 
 
 " But you are glad to make the best of it and 
 I am not. Of course it is easy for you to philoso 
 phize. Oh I can not bear it, I can not ! My beau 
 tiful child ! she might grace a palace ! " Then
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 125 
 
 Mrs. McChesney put her head upon the corner of 
 the table and began to cry softly. 
 
 Her husband kissed the smooth brown hair 
 streaked with gray and put his arm about the 
 rounded waist, once as slender as her daughter s. 
 They had never entirely outgrown their lover-like 
 ways, these staid married people. It is true they 
 had their little tiffs and jarrings now and then ; 
 but the tiffs and jarrings were only motes in the 
 sunbeam of affection that lighted their journey 
 through life. He comforted her now, therefore, 
 with many consoling words, adding at last : 
 
 " I have never told you all I learned about 
 Signer Ferranti when I called upon him after Ka- 
 linski s dramatic outburst. I will tell you what I 
 suspect if you will listen." 
 
 After a lengthy conversation, during which 
 Mrs. McChesney grew more composed, Mr. Mc 
 Chesney suggested that they should go to the 
 music room. When they reached the doorway of 
 the library they heard the opening strains of the 
 Eubinstein sonata. 
 
 " What are they playing that thing for ? " Mr. 
 McChesney jerked out angrily. 
 
 " I think so, too," his wife said vaguely. " If 
 she has any more hallucinations she shall never 
 marry him never" dabbing her eyes viciously 
 with her husband s handkerchief. " I believe he 
 has bewitched us all, any way ; he deals in the
 
 120 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 black arts, I am sure ; a lineal descendant of 
 Machiavelli," she continued, bravely fishing an 
 Italian name from the chaotic deep of memory. 
 
 " Cagliostro, my dear, Cagliostro," said her hus 
 band. 
 
 " AY ell, it doesn t make much difference. 
 The old Italians I have read of were very much 
 alike. We never hear of the stupid men, and 
 the bright men were all consumed with melan 
 choly or cynicism or superstition." 
 
 Mr. McChesney opened his mouth to confute 
 this feminine logic, but the door-bell rang and 
 Karl Klinder stepped in. 
 
 " There fall some water-drops," said he. " I 
 wass going py and I stop until the rain is ofer; 
 should I ? " addressing Mrs. McChesney. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; of course," she answered. And 
 she directed the maid to carry away his dripping 
 hat and coat. 
 
 " Do I hear the violin of Signor Ferranti ? " he 
 asked with surprise. " Wo kommt er nun ? It is 
 he, nicht wahr ? " excitedly relapsing into German. 
 " Ach ! the esteemable man ! It rejoices me much 
 him to see once more again. He is love-worthy. 
 You will rejoice, too, him to see again ? " to Mrs. 
 McChesney. 
 
 " He has come a long distance," she answered, 
 begging the question, " from South America Val 
 paraiso, I believe."
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 127 
 
 " So ? " said Klinder. And he play dot Rubin 
 stein sonata once more, once more ahgen." 
 
 " Shall we go in? " said Mr. McChesney address 
 ing his wife. 
 
 "Xo; let us sit hero until they are through 
 playing." 
 
 She threw herself as she spoke on the huge 
 brass-nailed sofa that ran along one side of the 
 square front hall; Mr. McChesney followed her 
 example; while Klinder seated himself opposite, 
 his rotund figure contrasting with the severe dig 
 nity of the straight, high-backed chair he had cho 
 sen, and from which his pudgy feet could scarcely 
 reach the floor. 
 
 As the players began the third movement of 
 the sonata, the subdued excitement of the listeners 
 showed itself in different ways. Mrs. McChesney 
 twisted a handkerchief around her forefinger. Mr. 
 McChesney folded his arms with scornful resigna 
 tion, Karl Klinder took off his spectacles and sol 
 emnly blinked his eyes. 
 
 A first, a second, a third time the expected 
 phrase appeared. On swept the sonata in strong 
 purpose and fiery freedom. For once the climax 
 was reached without failure, and the closing 
 chords rang out unmarred. The Eubicon was 
 passed. Ferranti drew a long breath, heard in the 
 hall. 
 
 " Miss Flora is no longer witt the countenance
 
 128 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 worrited ; he is outgone," said Klindcr, beaming at 
 Mrs. McChesney. 
 
 " Bosh ! " Mr. McChesney ejaculated. " That 
 face was only the result of imagination or indiges 
 tion." 
 
 " Now, Hugh ; you are certainly mistaken. 
 Depend upon it, there was some association, con 
 nected with the sonata, that brought her face to his 
 mind when he played. A strong sympathy exists 
 between him and Flora. I saw it the first time 
 they played together." 
 
 " Yes, that is true ; and the whole thing could 
 be explained, if you choose, on the theory of hyp 
 notic influence ; but I can t think Flora has so 
 weak a will." 
 
 " No, that isn t it, Hugh. It is no more strange 
 that she should see the face visible to him than that 
 she should anticipate the manner in which he was 
 to render a coming musical thought ; no more 
 strange, indeed, than that I should sometimes catch 
 the very words from your lips before you speak. 
 It is no more strange to me than a thousand other 
 mysterious things to which we are so used that we 
 take no notice of them. "Why does the thought 
 of an absent friend flash suddenly upon the mind 
 a few moments before he unexpectedly arrives? 
 Look at remarkable dreams ! There was that 
 dream of mine last 
 
 Mr. McChesney rose hastily. " There, there,
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 129 
 
 my dear ; I admit that there is considerable truth 
 iu what you say, but excuse me from any dream 
 theories. It is easy enough to trace dreams back 
 to their developing cause. As this curious face- 
 appearance is a troublesome subject, let us keep it 
 in the background in future," and he looked at 
 Klinder, who nodded sympathetically. 
 
 " I am sure / should never dream of mention 
 ing it; but some day you will find I am right 
 about it." A perceptible note of conscious mar 
 tyrdom vibrated through Mrs. McChesney s words. 
 Mr. McChesney smiled indulgently, as the best of 
 men are wont to smile at the woman who unites 
 in herself intuitive logic, keen perception, and a 
 childish unreasonableness a combination which 
 renders the woman in whom it occurs at the same 
 time the most fascinating and certainly the most 
 exasperating of created beings.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE next day Signer Ferranti had an inter 
 view with Mr. and Mrs. McChesney. At his re 
 quest the two caskets which he had left with Mr. 
 McChesney to care for during his absence were 
 brought to him. He put them on the table 
 before him and left them unopened while he 
 spoke. lie began in a low and earnest voice, 
 and he addressed himself at first entirely to Mrs. 
 McChesney. 
 
 " I only wish I could take your daughter with 
 me to Italy while she is still ignorant of the fact 
 that I am anything more than a poor violinist, 
 depending upon my own exertions for a living. 
 She loves me for myself " his face brightened to 
 a smile of exceeding happiness " and there is no 
 thought in her mind of material good. Thank 
 God, I have it in my power to recompense her 
 noble affection ! But this is not what I wish to 
 say. I feel it necessary to set aside my own some 
 what romantic wishes and to give you a full expla 
 nation of my present circumstances; because I 
 must ask your consent to an immediate marriage."
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 " Impossible ! I could not consent to it ! " mur 
 mured Mrs. McChesney. Ferranti shot a keen 
 glance at her from under half-closed eyelids, and 
 continued : " In these caskets you will find full 
 evidence of my connection with the noble house 
 of Mantini. By the death of my uncle, Duke Fa- 
 brizio Ferranti, the family estates and title pass into 
 my hands. Your daughter, I am glad to assure 
 you, will be the Duchess of Mantini." A little 
 sarcastic smile curved the corners of his lips as he 
 noted the quick flush that burned in Mrs. McChes- 
 ney s face. "With her beauty and accomplish 
 ments she will grace the old palace at Eome as no 
 other woman has graced it since the day of the 
 beautiful Duchessa Constanza Maria, who was 
 known throughout all Italy for her noble charities 
 and her keen intelligence, as well as for her exqui 
 site beauty." 
 
 A fluttering sigh escaped from Mrs. McChes- 
 ney s lips. She remained silent however, though 
 her heavy breathing and burning cheeks showed 
 the effect of his words, and she listened attentively 
 while he continued : 
 
 " There are some other things I ought to tell 
 you, so that all my past life in its most important 
 particulars may be quite clear to you. I quarreled 
 with my uncle, who lived at Eome, on account of 
 my marriage with the Anita whose picture you 
 have seen. She was young and beautiful, with
 
 132 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 that devilish kind of beauty that bewitches a boy s 
 senses while it drowns his reason. She became 
 to all appearances passionately attached to me. 
 Impulsively, as I then thought, she constantly 
 compromised herself by throwing herself in my 
 way under peculiar circumstances. Finally, I 
 married her, secretly and under an assumed name. 
 I was twenty and she but seventeen. I thought 
 her, if low-born, at least a model of purity and 
 womanly devotion. I confessed the marriage to 
 my family that in case of my death she might be 
 protected ; and I intended then, at all risks, to ac 
 knowledge her publicly as soon as my position and 
 means would allow. My uncle cast me off entire 
 ly. My mother, though bitterly grieved at my 
 marriage, helped me in every way possible, but as 
 she too was dependent on my uncle, I could accept 
 but little from her. In less than a year Anita be 
 came moody and unhappy. She implied that I had 
 deceived her, and that she should cease to love me 
 entirely if I could not give her the rank and position 
 to which she considered herself entitled. I need 
 not weary you with my struggles and trials. I 
 went to Paris, and by means of my musical talent 
 I soon began to earn a fair income, enough to 
 live in comfort if not luxury. But such a life 
 was too quiet for Anita. At the end of the sec 
 ond year of our marriage she ran away with a rich 
 Russian count ; she left a heartless letter for me,
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 133 
 
 and she also left behind her a baby boy, ten months 
 old. The child I sent to my mother. I did not 
 follow Anita I had learned to know her too well ; 
 but I kept track of her movements. Deserted by 
 the count, she became associated with a French 
 duke, as low in character as he was high in line 
 age. She used to drive in the Bois de Boulogne, 
 handsome as an empress and apparently happy, 
 until one day she took small-pox and was carried 
 to the hospital. There I visited her and begged 
 her to return to an honest life ; and I offered then 
 to send her back to her old home and to see that 
 she received as large an income as I could afford 
 to send her. She laughed scornfully at my sug 
 gestions, and, possessed with the spirit of evil which 
 had grown steadily beyond her control, when she 
 came out of the hospital she plunged into the low 
 est depths of Parisian life. She was at length ar 
 rested in a violent fit of insanity and taken to the 
 police station. From that place I rescued her and 
 sent her to an asylum, where she was cared for un 
 til her death. While, if under any circumstances 
 a divorce would be justifiable, it would be so in 
 mine, I never thought it right to procure one, on 
 account of my family name. I paid no attention 
 to women after this unhappy marriage, and have 
 cared for none until I saw your daughter." 
 
 Ferranti, when he had finished speaking, 
 raised the lid of the larger casket. " Here," said
 
 134 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 he, " are the jewels that belonged to my mother. 
 She insisted upon my keeping them with me in 
 case of any sudden misfortune that might leave 
 me destitute in a strange land. They will belong 
 to your daughter. I leave them in your hands 
 now, and I hope that she will wear them on her 
 wedding day." 
 
 Mrs. McChesney would have been more than 
 woman had she not experienced a sudden sensa 
 tion of pleasure at the royal glitter of the jewels 
 as Ferranti placed the case in her hands, and less 
 than woman had not her heart been touched by 
 this quiet recital of his troubles. 
 
 "With quick perception he took advantage of 
 her train of thought. He bent the full power of 
 his glowing eyes appealingly upon her, and said : 
 
 " I must go to Italy in one week. You will 
 not compel me to go alone? To leave your 
 daughter? It is hard to ask you to part with 
 her, but you will not subject me to the misery 
 of an unnecessary separation ? You have been 
 happy yourself ; do not deny me the happiness I 
 need." He placed the casket in her hands as he 
 spoke. 
 
 Mrs. McChesney hesitated, but only for a mo 
 ment. " You have indeed been unhappy," she 
 said gently, " but my daughter s happiness is first 
 in my eyes. If she consents to go Avith you I 
 but her voice broke ; she could say no more. A
 
 THE DOMIXANT SEVENTH. 135 
 
 teardrop fell in among the diamonds, a jewel of 
 purer luster than any iu the casket for it came 
 from a mother s heart. 
 
 Ferranti laid one hand upon hers. " She is 
 my life," he said wistfully. " The matter is in 
 your hands," he continued ; " and I do not ask 
 for impossibilities." 
 
 And Mrs. McChesney, as she passed out of the 
 room holding the casket, quietly murmured, "It 
 shall be as Flora wishes." 
 
 " To you, Mr. McChesney," said Ferranti, " I 
 can only say, that you have been my friend under 
 all circumstances, and you know all that I would 
 say. You have heard the rest of the story that 
 I could not honorably finish before. The busi 
 ness matters I wish to arrange consist mainly in 
 seeing that your daughter s fortune, whatever it 
 may be, shall be settled entirely upon herself and 
 her own children. Luigi, if he lives, will inherit 
 my title and the old Mantini palace ; but a part 
 of the property is in my own power, and my 
 uncle s private fortune is left to me unreservedly 
 by a codicil added to his will after he heard of 
 Anita s death. This property I would like to 
 settle in part upon your daughter, if I can do so 
 according to American laws, before she becomes 
 my wife."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WHILE preparations for the wedding were 
 going on the good citizens of Medalhurst were 
 agitated to no small degree. Each envious spin 
 ster and unmarried belle whispered to herself 
 that " Flora McChesney had an inkling of the 
 truth all the time " ; the elderly matron who had 
 sternly put Ferranti in his place as a disguised 
 Jesuit shook her head as she confided to her hus 
 band her conviction that Mrs. McChesney was " a 
 deep woman trust her to procure an eligible 
 parti for her daughter"; while the business men, 
 hearing of the marriage settlements, struggled 
 resolutely to disbelieve that any Italian violinist 
 could be at the same time wealthy, moral, honor 
 able, and sane. " McChesney had better look out," 
 " There may be some trickery in spite of appear 
 ances," " I should like to be pretty sure of those 
 documents myself," were some of the sentences 
 that passed between these worthy patriarchs. On 
 the whole, the substratum of unadulterated self- 
 conceit that underlies all other qualities of the 
 human mind at Medalhurst as elsewhere in the
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 137 
 
 world was severely broken up by the cataclysmic 
 news of Flora McChesney s coming marriage. 
 Mothers, husbands, and daughters felt to the utter 
 most their own capacity to shine as mothers-in- 
 law, fathers-in-law, and wives to any number, of 
 bona-fide Italian dukes if they had only had the 
 chance. Ah, these good people ; how many of 
 them put on the steel armor of suspicion at the 
 approach of one stricken with poverty ! How 
 many of them fail to see, through their helmet of 
 distrust, nobility of soul and purity of heart when 
 hidden beneath a melancholy face and a shabby 
 coat ! And how suitably are they punished if at 
 tacking a " Feathertop " of their own creation they 
 find him (unlike Hawthorne s illusive scarecrow) 
 showing behind his poor habiliments the bones 
 and sinews of a man, who routs them in fair fight 
 upon their chosen field. 
 
 Fortunately the aggrieved sense of being 
 cheated soon passed away, obliterated by a mild 
 feeling of self-gratulation ; for were not the people 
 of Medalhurst, one and all, part and parcel of a 
 wide-spreading halo soon to surround Strathcarron 
 a halo which would soon be perceived by the 
 whole civilized republican world ? 
 
 Philip was the only one of whom people had 
 the opportunity of asking questions, and during 
 his calls and leisurely walks he gave the simple 
 facts unreservedly. One evening, while he was
 
 138 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 going down the main business street of the town, 
 he felt his arm grasped from behind, and at the 
 same time he smelled a strong odor of liquor from a 
 hot breath against his cheek. Turning around 
 sharply, he saw Kalinski wearing a rusty-brown 
 coat and red neck-tie, and a shabby hat cocked 
 toward one eye. Kalinski, who was in a state of 
 maudlin belligerency, steadied himself with an 
 effort. " Is it true," said he, " that your sister is 
 going to marry that devilish fool Ferranti ? " 
 
 " It is true that my sister is going to marry 
 Duke Giulio Ferranti of Mantini," answered 
 Philip, gravely. 
 
 " Duke Sillio Fiddlesticks," said Kalinski, with 
 an oath, " how he has humbugged you all, and 
 he has destroyed my happiness too, d n him ! " 
 And his face grew still redder, as anger for a 
 moment dominated the effect of whisky. 
 
 There had been little intercourse between 
 Philip and Kalinski during the past year ; yet the 
 friendship had not entirely ceased, for Philip was 
 warm-hearted, and found it hard to cherish anger 
 toward one whom he pitied even more than he 
 condemned. It would seem, indeed, that men are 
 justly declared to be stronger in their friendships 
 than women, so often do the latter use the stings 
 of gossip and the cold shoulder to push an un 
 fortunate sister still further to destruction, while 
 the former, as a rule, cling tenaciously to ties of
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 139 
 
 boyhood or associations of manhood, and hold out, 
 until the last moment, a friendly hand to the 
 erring brother whom they can not turn from a 
 downward path. Yet one result of this is not 
 altogether satisfactory; for the evil-disposed get 
 more help than they deserve, while the humble, 
 deserving, ambitious good are left to struggle 
 upward alone. That positive work for good is 
 always better than negative no one can deny, 
 although a practical application of this theory 
 often seems momentarily cruel to those who look 
 only at temporary results instead of at the great 
 general progress of humanity. Philip was no ex 
 ception to the best of his sex. He had gone often 
 to see Kalinski, and had remonstrated with him 
 again and again on his growing fondness for 
 liquor. But all to no avail. Sternly surveying 
 now the seedy figure before him, though a pang 
 of pity shot through his heart, he harshly asked : 
 " Aren t you man enough yet to give up that 
 stale idea of wrecked happiness? Don t you 
 know yet that a woman in love with one man 
 can not love another it is foreign to her na 
 ture? My sister never had any special feeling 
 for you beyond a friendly interest never will 
 have, and never could have. You are not her 
 ideal of a man ; and at present you do not even 
 deserve my friendship. I forbid you to mention 
 her name in any possible connection with your-
 
 140 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 self. If you were in your senses you would see 
 the nonsense of always harping on the string of 
 unrequited affection. What absurdity ! To waste 
 your time and brains in brooding over the fact 
 that a woman can not and will not love you ! 
 There is no such thing as genuine love unless it is 
 mutual. If your fancied love can not resolve 
 itself into honest, friendly admiration, you may be 
 pretty sure you are only suffering from wounded 
 vanity or, worse yet, from a base, brutal passion of 
 which you ought to be ashamed." 
 
 "He bien! you talk well," growled Kalinski, 
 sullenly. " Mais moi ? I burn ! I will have re 
 venge upon him," growing excited and slapping 
 his breast tragically. 
 
 " Burn ? no wonder, considering the vile stuff 
 you have been drinking," said Philip. 
 
 Kalinski straightened himself, assumed an air 
 of virtuous dignity, and said in a thick voice : 
 " Philip McChesney, we have been friends but 
 now we are enemies hie enemies I say. Any 
 man who says I have been drinking insults me. 
 I am a soldier, a man of ho-honor, Philip McChes 
 ney. Don t you dare say I ve been drinking. But 
 if I had what then ? The old philosophers drank, 
 old patriarchs drank, apostles drank; Timothy 
 said, a little wine for the stomach s sake. Now 
 I say, a little wine for the heart s sake. But I 
 never was a drinking man, Philip McChesney.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 My heart is breaking, and you hie you accuse 
 me of drinking ? " He blinked his red-lidded eyes 
 and attempted to look reproachfully at Philip. 
 Then he added, explosively : " No man shall insult 
 me, d n it ! A man s feelings are his own prop 
 erty, I say." 
 
 " I only wish they were in your case," muttered 
 Philip sotto voce and between his closed teeth. 
 His expression, however, changed as he continued 
 to look Kalinski steadily in the face, and he said 
 very gently : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, will you allow me to walk 
 home with you ? " 
 
 Kalinski, not to be outdone in politeness made 
 an erratic, dogged bow, and put his hand on Phil 
 ip s arm. 
 
 " Philip, I always said you were my friend. 
 We are hie more than friends. We are broth 
 ers. Nous sommes bons camarades, Philip mon 
 brave, n est-ce pas? The world goes against me, 
 Philip," dropping into a sentimental whine. 
 " Good by, proud world, I m going home. I go 
 with you ; I get rid of the world ; I go home but 
 un verre de vin one but one " As he fumbled 
 unsteadily in his pocket with one hand, with the 
 other he tried to pull Philip toward the neighbor 
 ing wine shops and beer palaces resplendent in gilt 
 signs, huge plate-glass windows, and other tokens 
 of prosperity.
 
 142 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 Philip shook his head. " We will go to your 
 rooms, Kalinski," he answered. Kalinski did not 
 resist the persuasive touch. " All right, Philip 
 Good by, proud world hie let s go home." And 
 he patronizingly waved his hand to the bar-rooms 
 as arm in arm with Philip he strode toward his 
 apology for a home. 
 
 Philip, however, with all his philosophy, found 
 it not overpleasant to listen all the way to inco 
 herent angry mutterings about " lost star," " dew- 
 drop," " chartreuse," " maraschino," to which Ka 
 linski in turn compared Flora, varying his poetic 
 fragments with occasional curses of Ferranti ; and 
 it was with considerable relief that the much-en 
 during philosopher deposited at last the much- 
 imbibing sciolist vigorously in a large arm-chair. 
 He then stood a few moments in the doorway, and 
 regarded the semi-brutalized man with a glance of 
 mingled pity and disgust. Kalinski, putting on 
 the feeble air of bravado that every tipsy man likes 
 to display, began to whistle. "You had better 
 take a cold shower-bath at once, and see if you 
 can t get a little common sense with it," were 
 Philip s parting words as he shut the door. He 
 went home sick at heart, but forebore to speak of 
 his meeting with Kalinski.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE sun shone bright and clear on the morn 
 ing of the wedding day. The ceremony was to 
 take place, according to English fashion, at twelve 
 o clock. About ten o clock Ferranti came to the 
 house to see Philip in regard to some detail for 
 gotten by both, for the best man, an attache of 
 the Italian legation at Washington, could not 
 arrive in time to perform the usual duties of his 
 position. Ferranti stood talking with Philip at 
 the further end of the hall just back of the stair 
 case, when Flora came down the stairs hastily. 
 He heard the swish of her dress and caught her 
 in his arms, giving a low musical laugh, the first 
 laugh she had ever heard from his lips. He 
 brushed his hand caressingly over the loose morn 
 ing gown of delicate pinkish gray trimmed with 
 lace, and crumpled the soft silk in his hand. 
 
 " I like better to see you in this than in your 
 stiff white wedding dress and diamonds," he said. 
 " You are now like a rose a damask rose-bud like 
 the dainty roses that I love and that I will show 
 you in the garden, when we shall sit together and
 
 144: THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 breathe the perfume of the orange blossoms and 
 see the golden globes hanging in the midst of 
 glossy greenness, and watch from the high terrace 
 the silver gray of olive grove and the white square 
 ness of the gleaming villas melting into the Tyrian 
 purple of the twilight sky ; and you, my queen, 
 my beauty, my love, will shake your golden hair 
 about me, bend your hazel eyes to mine, while I 
 kneel at your feet in the odorous darkness. Ah ! 
 my happiness is too great! I can not breathe 
 when I think of it ! " And his dark eyes shone 
 and his face grew pale and luminous with feeling. 
 
 Flora put her soft warm hands over his cold 
 fingers and smoothed back the hair from his fore 
 head. She was now calmer than he, for in the 
 love of a good woman there always exists some 
 thing of the mother-feeling toward the man she 
 loves. " I hope we shall be very happy, Giulio," 
 said she, slowly speaking his name for the first 
 time, and turning away while he held her hands 
 in a lingering clasp. 
 
 " Hello, Ferranti ! Don t go yet a moment," 
 called Philip. " I nearly forgot to say the express 
 man brought a box for you this morning, and left 
 it here. It is directed here, so I suppose it is a 
 wedding present." Ferranti went back to the 
 lower hall. The box stood on a large square 
 mahogany table ; it was about two feet square with 
 an " Adams Express Company " label pasted on
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 145 
 
 one side and " This side up with care," on the top 
 in letters of black paint. 
 
 "Flowers, perhaps, or china," said Flora, 
 whose curiosity had led her to follow Ferranti. 
 
 " But who would send me anything of the kind 
 now, with this direction," Ferranti said in a low 
 tone, looking at the neatly written address : 
 
 For Signer Gitilio Ferranti, 
 
 " Strathcarron," 
 Medalhurst, 
 New Jersey. 
 
 " Open it, please," said Flora with emphasis, 
 putting her hand on his arm while the soft folds 
 of her dress swept against him. 
 
 " Carrissima, how can I, when you are so near 
 me ? " he whispered, bending back his head to look 
 in her eyes. " The perfume of your hair intoxi 
 cates me. All my senses are steeped in a dream 
 of delight; I have no command over material 
 things. I have no room for curiosity ; nor for 
 any thought save you, my little darling, my " 
 
 Flora smilingly put her hand over his mouth. 
 He seized it and kissed it with a sudden intensity 
 of passion that brought the swift color to her 
 cheeks and caused her to step back half timidly. 
 Ferranti gave again a low, musical laugh that 
 laugh, born of excess of happiness, which is so 
 rarely heard from human beings, and yet which 
 10
 
 146 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 should be as natural to us all as the singing of the 
 birds or the bubbling of the mountain streams. He 
 then drew from his pocket a small silver dagger 
 of curious workmanship, one which he always 
 carried about with him, pulled it from its sheath 
 and began to pry up the lid of the box. 
 
 During this time Philip had been leaning 
 against the jamb of the large door that opened 
 from the back hall upon a large piazza. The door 
 was open, and through it he could see the inde 
 finable brooding sweetness of the young spring 
 landscape budding into life. The snowy pear 
 trees stood arrayed in bridal beauty and the flush 
 ing apple trees dropped their dainty petals on the 
 soft green sward beneath ; mingled with their 
 fragrance came the mignonette-like odor from 
 the grape vine clinging to a long old-fashioned 
 arbor. He had been drinking in the morning 
 loveliness and drawing long breaths of the deli 
 cious morning air, and now he had turned his 
 head to watch his sister s face with a dreamy in- 
 tentness, perhaps thinking of the day when a maid 
 en s face he knew should blush for him and he too 
 should tremble at approaching happiness. 
 
 When Ferranti inserted his dagger under the 
 box-lid and a first faint crack of the wood was 
 heard, Philip started. As though obeying an un 
 controllable impulse, he sprang forward. " Hold ! 
 Stop ! " he cried, and in an instant he tore the
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 147 
 
 box from Ferranti s hands and hurled it with all 
 his force through the open doorway. It cleared 
 the steps of the broad piazza and struck the paved 
 walk just under a large elm tree. There was a 
 sudden explosion, a flash of fire. The fragments 
 of the box, the branches of the tree, a portion of 
 the grape arbor covering the walk, pieces of iron 
 and steel, hustled confusedly through the air. 
 The panes of glass in the back windows were shiv 
 ered to fragments ; vases and bric-a-brac splintered 
 on the hard-wood floor of the music room; the 
 statue of Wagner, jarred from its position, fell for 
 ward with a loud discordant clang. 
 
 Philip, who nearly lost his balance in throwing 
 the box, was flung heavily backward through the 
 open door and measured his full length upon the 
 floor, where he lay senseless, his head cut open 
 above one temple and his face covered with blood. 
 Ferranti had seized Flora by the arm at the sound 
 of the explosion, and, with a lightning glance at 
 the possibilities of danger, had swung her out of 
 the way of a tall silver lamp that wavered on 
 its pedestal and fell directly where she was stand 
 ing. Both he and Flora escaped unhurt. An 
 examination of Philip s wound showed a piece of 
 iron imbedded in his head, how deeply could not 
 be told until the arrival of physicians. 
 
 A bed was hastily arranged in the music room, 
 and on it the young, manly figure was laid by his
 
 148 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 trembling father and Ferranti. Mrs. McChcsncy, 
 hastily summoned, beyond the first startled cry 
 said nothing ; pale and stern she did everything 
 possible for the comfort of the unconscious one so 
 heedless of her efforts. Her fingers trembled, but 
 her face was calm. She even paused a moment 
 to smooth the hair of the bitterly sobbing Flora, 
 who knelt by the side of her brother and mur 
 mured reproaches upon herself and words of pite 
 ous entreaty to Philip. The servants gathered 
 sadly in the hall and on the piazza. Philip s 
 manliness and generosity and gentleness had so 
 endeared him to them all that there were none 
 who would not gladly have saved him from danger 
 at the expense of suffering to themselves. "With 
 tearful eyes they looked now and then at the sor 
 rowing group, while with light footfalls they 
 cleared away the debris of the explosion. The 
 bright sun flashed in merrily at the windows and 
 lighted the room with its coldly cheerful rays, and 
 the warm spring breeze, scented with the blossom 
 odors, ruffled the hair of the apparently dying 
 man, who, save for an occasional gurgling groan, 
 gave no indication of life. 
 
 There was an hour of anxious waiting before 
 the famous specialists upon whose word they de 
 pended could arrive. In the mean time local phy 
 sicians held a consultation, and gave but little 
 hope of Philip s recovery. As gently as possible
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 149 
 
 the terrible probability of speedy death was broken 
 to the family. The mother, brave even now, 
 smiled with divine compassion at her son who, 
 under the influence of restoratives, opened his 
 brown eyes, with an appealing glance at the gentle 
 face bent above his own. " Mother ! " He strug 
 gled feebly to express himself, but the internal 
 bleeding choked his utterance, so that the broken 
 words that followed were scarcely caught. " Dar 
 ling mother this is harder for you than for me. 
 I am not afraid. It is but a little sooner a 
 few years may be. Now, listen," and he beck- 
 ened them all nearer, motioning with his hand to 
 Ferranti. "I can not recover I know my 
 throat my head but the wedding. It must be 
 here ; I must see it. You do not know. Send 
 for clergyman and your wedding dress the 
 diamonds " 
 
 " My God ! it can not be ! " burst in a groan 
 from the lips of Ferranti. " To take your sister, 
 when through me you have lost your life ! Oh, the 
 horror the wretchedness of it ! I can not ; it is 
 too much ! " And his face grew stony and gray 
 as he slowly clinched his hands. 
 
 Philip turned his eyes from his mother s to 
 his father s face. " Beg him, for my sake 
 mother ! father ! " he said, with a spasm of energy 
 which brought a gush of blood from his lips 
 and caused him to relapse into unconsciousness.
 
 150 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 The father tenderly wiped the pale face and spoke 
 a few low words to the physician who stood near 
 noting Philip s pulse. The mother clasped her 
 hands and stretched both arms slowly outward. 
 It was her first movement of uncontrollable an 
 guish. Ferranti left the room and began to pace 
 up and down the long walk in front of the house. 
 Slowly, minute by minute, the time went by until 
 the arrival of the two physicians who had been 
 telegraphed for. Gravely and sympathetically 
 they made the examination on which the trem 
 bling hopes of the family hung quivering. All 
 waited with beating hearts. No hope ? 
 
 Oh ! who that has heard that gloomy sentence 
 can fail to remember how it weighs upon the soul, 
 binds it with leaden gyves, relentlessly smothers 
 each springing thought of joy, and, like a vam 
 pire, sucks the life-blood from the heart till that 
 pulsing center of delight beats faintly in the dull 
 despair of so-called resignation ! " Xo hope ! " 
 Bitter words to the girl clinging to the lover who 
 has betrayed her, yet compelled to turn from his 
 stony calmness to end her sorrows in the kinder 
 outstretched arms of dark night-waters ; bitter 
 words to the woman watching her once-loved 
 husband slowly stepping downward to fill a drunk 
 ard s grave ; bitter words to the man who sees the 
 hard-earned savings of many toilsome years swept 
 away in one fell swoop at the beck of some re-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 spected, mocking swindler ; bitter, far more bitter 
 still, to the mother who sees her first-born son 
 struck low at her feet, made to lay down his life- 
 task scarce begun, and to yield his lusty vigor to 
 the grim silence of eternity ! These are the bitter 
 words that make a cynic of the maiden, a scoffer 
 of the man, and God forgive us ! atheists of us 
 all in some despondent hour. Yet whoever list 
 ens long and earnestly to the deep-toned bell of 
 sorrow will hear at length a sweetness in its dying 
 tone, and will learn the key-note of the universe. 
 " Out of the strong cometh sweetness ; out of the 
 sweetness, wisdom."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 No hope ! No operation could save his life. 
 Nothing could be done save to administer opiates to 
 soothe his final struggles. Even the physicians 
 grave, quiet men so long familiar with every phase 
 of suffering showed their emotion by tearful eyes 
 and unsteady voices as they walked away from the 
 handsome, noble face and vigorous youthful frame 
 so soon to be dismantled of its beauty. But one 
 small consolation could they give his faculties 
 were gradually becoming deadened, and although 
 he might linger for several hours in apparent agony, 
 he would in reality become unconscious of his pain. 
 
 By the use of restoratives Philip again re 
 covered consciousness. His first moaning words 
 were : " The marriage must take place ; it is all 
 you can do for me ; let me see them safely mar 
 ried. There is danger danger, I say ! Don t 
 you know it? Hurry, I tell you! I will not die 
 until you are married ! " And he tried to raise 
 himself from the pillows and to put out his hand 
 to Flora. " And I want to see you in your wed 
 ding dress, too " with a pitiful smile. The older
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 153 
 
 of the two physicians, a genial, portly man, who 
 had been a family friend of the McChesneys for 
 many years, stepped forward and gently laid 
 Philip back upon the pillows. " Everything shall 
 be done as you wish, my child," said he, in sooth 
 ing tones. "Do not waste your strength by any 
 excitement. Trust it all to me." 
 
 Philip looked his gratitude as the physician 
 said to Mr. McChesney : " There can be no reason 
 why the ceremony should not take place now. It 
 is, as Philip says, all that can be done for him. 
 Let him see that his sister s future happiness will 
 be assured. He, no doubt, feels that scruples will 
 arise in both her mind and Signor Ferranti s 
 which may end in their separation. Philip is the 
 one to be considered, and let us all put aside 
 every other feeling but his comfort. He very 
 probably wishes that no more suffering than is 
 necessary should result from this The physician 
 spoke very calmly, but the evident difficulty of 
 repressing his anger, as he sought for a word to 
 characterize the dastardly crime that had been 
 committed, caused his voice to suddenly break. 
 He went up to Flora, whispered to her and led 
 her to the foot of the stairs, where he gave her to 
 kind old Margaret, with instructions to see that 
 the half -fainting girl was dressed as quickly as 
 possible in her wedding garments. 
 
 What a mockery seemed the array of finery
 
 TIIE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 to Flora when entering the large sunny room she 
 took in at one glance the still open trunks ; the 
 traveling dressing-case, with the tops of the bottles 
 and backs of the brushes of tortoise-shell inlaid 
 with gold ; the silver and cut-glass toilet-sets ; the 
 white morocco writing-case, with gold monograms ; 
 and the glittering coronet shining out from its 
 case of white satin and silver! Upon the bed 
 beside the wedding dress, the bridal fan, one of 
 Ferranti s gifts, was lying fully opened. It was 
 of point lace and delicately carved ivory, the outer 
 sticks incrusted with a lily-of-the- valley design in 
 diamonds and small pearls; the lace opened in 
 the center over three medallions surrounded with 
 diamond sparks, the central medallion showing 
 the Mantini coat-of-arms painted in water colors, 
 above it a coronet in small diamonds ; the other 
 two medallions repeating the same design of 
 Cupids upholding an exquisitely painted wreath 
 of flowers, within which was Flora s monogram in 
 tiny pearls. With a gesture of impatience, almost 
 of contempt, Flora took up the fan, folded it, and 
 then flung it back carelessly upon the bed. As it 
 fell it struck one of the supports of the brass 
 bedstead, and the dainty sticks of the almost 
 priceless treasure snapped like glass. Old Mar 
 garet, instinctively following her habit of neatness, 
 mechanically picked up a piece of ivory from the 
 floor and put the fan together.
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 155 
 
 " All, dearie ! ah, dearie ! " she sighed, turning 
 away to twist up Flora s disarranged hair. 
 
 Dressed finally in the wedding gown of soft 
 satin and lace, and decked out with the diamond, 
 opals, and pearls that formed the beautiful parure 
 worn in turn by so many duchesses of Mantini, 
 Flora sank in a melancholy heap upon the floor. 
 " My strength has gone," she said ; " I can not 
 walk." 
 
 " Now, now, my bonny," said Margaret, 
 picking her up and thrusting into her nerveless 
 hands the bridal bouquet of pale orchids which 
 harmonized with the faint flashes of color from 
 her jewels, " they re waitin now below ; the young 
 master maun have his gaze of the bride to cheer 
 the wee bit moments of his life. Oh waes me it 
 is, for the day he lies in the dust ! " she moaned, 
 while a tear trickled down her cheek and dropped 
 on the white satin gown. " But there, there ! I 
 am an old fool. That s no way for us to be drap- 
 pin tears noo, and wailin an sighin when tis 
 time for work an the hardest kin o work to 
 smile when the heart is breakin ." 
 
 " Oh, but it is so cruel, so cruel ! If it were not 
 for me, this could not have happened." And 
 Flora threw herself into the woman s arms. 
 
 " There, now ; hush, hush," said Margaret, " tis 
 well I know nae ither mon can tak the place o 
 that bonnie laddie, sae strang and sae leal. But
 
 15G THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ye canna help yoursel lassie; you maun do as 
 ye re bid and lift yoursel aboon your dool. Ye 
 maun put yoursel awa , an think to gladden his 
 een with yer braw gown an your jewels, and mak 
 him happy to see yer fast to yer ain gude man." 
 
 - Flora dashed her tears from her eyes, lifted 
 her head from the broad shoulder of the woman, 
 and, shutting her upper teeth over her under lip 
 to still the nervous quiverings of the sensitive 
 mouth, she went slowly down stairs and stood at 
 the foot of Philip s couch. 
 
 " My good my lovely darling ! " whispered he, 
 with a tender smile, " it is all right now. I can 
 die in peace." 
 
 The clergyman had now arrived. After ad- 
 minstering the Holy Communion to the dying 
 man, he turned to join the living in the bonds 
 that are more binding to the unhappy than the 
 cerements of the grave. Ferranti s face was cold 
 and stern and Flora s full of undefmable fear. 
 
 They stood at one end of the room, opposite 
 the broad French window. The servants clustered 
 near the doors ; the physicians gathered in a knot 
 at the head of the couch. 
 
 " Raise me in your arms, mother," whispered 
 Philip with labored breath. And leaning on that 
 breast which had pillowed his baby head the 
 breast whereon he had sobbed out his youthful 
 grief, the mother-breast which is alike the refuge
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 157 
 
 of the child and the purest memory of the man 
 Philip watched his sister s wedding. 
 
 The solemn closing words of the marriage serv 
 ice died away. Flora left her husband s side and 
 kissed her brother on cheeks, forehead, and lips. 
 " It was for you, Philip. I did this for you. I 
 can not be happy, now, without you. You know 
 that, don t you, darling? Oh, why, why, can I 
 not lie there instead of you ! " 
 
 " Hush you may not understand the will of 
 God. Time will show you that a few years are 
 but taken off. a life that might have in it much 
 sin and sorrow. Don t think of my death. Flora 
 mother, let all the pleasant memories of the past 
 cover the bitterness of our parting. You, Flora, 
 have a duty to your husband now ; and mother 
 knows her own. She will bear up, as she always 
 has." Philip spoke with difficulty, but the broken 
 words were understood by those whose strained 
 attention was centered on the bluish, paling lips. 
 " You must go to Italy, and have mother go. 
 Take mother my blessed, patient mother; she 
 will miss me my mother will miss me," he mur- 
 inured. " The place will be too sad for her just 
 yet." A wave of recollection seemed to sweep 
 over him, and he lifted himself suddenly, crying 
 out with renewed strength : " It is too hard ! I 
 will not die ! I can not must not die ! Life is 
 so fair, the world is so beautiful ! And I am young
 
 158 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 and strong ! Is there no hope for me ? no hope ? 
 I will not die ! I am strong ! Let me fight with 
 death ! God ! God ! It is too hard ! " And 
 he sank back panting on the pillows. 
 
 It was the final struggle of the unresigned 
 flesh, of the body clinging to the spirit ; the mo 
 mentary cry wrung from the soul at loss of its 
 earthly tenement the cry that haunts forever those 
 who hear it with its peal of ineffectual anguish. 
 
 " Forgive forgive this unmanliness," he 
 said, as the choking sobs of his sister struck his 
 ear. " Play to me music will help me to be more 
 calm." 
 
 " Philip," said Mr. McChesney, bending over 
 him, " you said you knew the reason of this acci 
 dent. If you do know, tell us. Give us, for heav 
 en s sake, any clew you have to such villainy ! 
 Speak, my son, while you have strength." 
 
 Philip closed his eyes, and an expression of 
 pain crossed his face. "Vengeance, vengeance, 
 always vengeance," he muttered. " It is not for 
 us to avenge ourselves, poor frail mortals steeped 
 in sin ! The man is already punished. He has 
 overreached himself. His suffering and remorse 
 begin with his knowledge of my death." 
 
 " Kalinski ! " exclaimed Ferranti, stepping 
 forward and clinching Mr. McChesney s arm with 
 an iron grip. 
 
 " Stop ! " said Philip. " The man is mine, to
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 159 
 
 punish or save, if I can. He shall have the 
 chance for atonement ; and you," he said to Fer- 
 ranti, " yon I charge to help him carry it out. If 
 remorse does not kill him, give him my dying 
 command to live my life as I would wish to live 
 it- and my forgiveness shall rest upon him, so 
 good may be born of evil. My charge, my dying 
 charge " His voice failed as he looked appealingly 
 to Ferranti, and drops gathered on his forehead. 
 Unable to speak, he rested his anxious eyes upon 
 his mother. A violent paroxysm shook his frame. 
 His mother, every sense strained to the utmost to 
 anticipate his wish, motioned to Ferranti to get his 
 violin. Philip smiled faintly in his mother s face 
 as she wiped the cold dampness from his white 
 forehead, and he nodded when he heard the faint 
 tuning of the loved instrument. A passing gleam 
 of humor lit up the brown eyes. " Ferranti, a dis 
 cord the dominant seventh no rest until it 
 meets the sweet harmony of a woman s nature 
 together peace the close These were the last 
 coherent words. 
 
 Ferranti began a minor strain of indescribable 
 sweetness. He bent his eyes upon Philip s face, 
 as though he would read each passing thought. 
 Master and violin were one. Never before had 
 the violin seemed so completely the voice of a 
 human soul struggling, aspiring, hoping, dream 
 ing through the mazes of its earthly way. Mem-
 
 1GO THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 ories of childhood, the brightness of the boy s un 
 mixed delight, the glowing freedom of those hours 
 when quick blood courses in the veins and nature 
 is one vast storehouse of treasures unrevealed ; 
 vague yearnings toward the spiritual good that 
 seems to flutter away from the soul s weak grasp, 
 burning resolutions to trample on all wrongs and 
 wake to fiery action the passive-moving world, 
 first rosy dreams of the ideal woman who flutters 
 vaguely through the youth s dim thought to take 
 firm outline in keener vision of the man ; then 
 the pathos of disappointment, submission to the 
 inevitable, conquering sweetness of the spirit whis 
 pering content to the body tired of pain ; rising 
 and falling in magic cadences these emotions swept 
 through the music s flowing tide as, borne away 
 upon the ocean, sweep a thousand shipwrecked 
 treasures to the shore. Now, like a shower of rain 
 drops touched with sunlight, rippled out a fare- 
 TV ell greeting to the sky, the trees, the mountains ; 
 and now, woven together by pathetic chords, rolled 
 out in one shining web of melody a mingling of 
 strains from the great composers strains associ 
 ated in Philip s mind with the loves and friend 
 ships of his life. At the mother s favorite hymn, 
 which soared upward in clear, pure, and tremulous 
 notes from the violin, Philip looked at her with 
 one last gaze of unutterable affection. His labored 
 breathing had nearly ceased. The illumination
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 which irradiates the face of the dying at the final 
 moment of dissolution, as if the soul smiled at 
 parting from its earthly casing, overspread his face. 
 Ferranti, with all the richness and fullness of tone 
 at his command, broke into the andante from the 
 Fifth Symphony which Philip had often played 
 and which he had declared to be the most perfect 
 musical expression of mingled sublimity and peace. 
 Softer and softer grew each earnest note. 
 
 Then the last vibrations melted away in the 
 low tones of the clergyman, who began to repeat 
 the prayer for the dying. One fluttering sigh, and 
 all was over. Ferranti dropped upon his knees. 
 But the mother still held her son clasped closely 
 to her breast. No sobs disturbed the stillness 
 which followed -, no word was spoken until a yel 
 low butterfly, lured by the perfume of the flowers 
 gathered for the wedding, waveringly sailed 
 through the open window and over Philip s 
 couch. " It is the emblem of immortality," said 
 the clergyman. " Thanks be to God who giveth 
 us the victory, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. 
 Amen." 
 
 The stars looked down throughout one warm 
 spring night upon a motionless figure stretched 
 upon a new-made grave. When the first bird 
 notes began to herald the early dawn the man 
 arose, his clothes damp with night dews, his eyes 
 11
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 bloodshot and wild with anguish. He cast a long, 
 lingering glance over the fresh beauty of the 
 peaceful scene. There was a quick flash a dull 
 report, and the figure again lay stretched upon 
 the narrow grave, this time to rise no more. 
 
 So Emil Kalinski, according to his own ideas 
 of justice, offered atonement for the life he had 
 needlessly sacrificed. His hot and jealous rage 
 had spent itself against the unanswerable fact of 
 Philip s death as the simoon of the desert spends 
 itself against the immovable Sphinx. 
 
 POSTLUDE. 
 
 The shadows of grief slowly passed away from 
 Mr. and Mrs. McChesney. After returning from 
 Italy, whither they had gone to accompany Flora 
 to her new home, they settled by degrees to their 
 usual duties and to renewed interest in their 
 other children. Only now and then did they 
 awake with a start to find that the memory of 
 Philip was gradually being obscured by the cloud 
 ing mists of e very-day avocations. There is no 
 keener pang to a sensitive heart than to recognize 
 its own unfaithfulness to the sorrow it Avedded 
 with such ardor in the first moments of passionate 
 despair. To such hearts it is long before the 
 truth comes home that the greater faithfulness to 
 the inner spirit of grief lies in an unselfish putting 
 away of all that saddens the living. It is not for-
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 163 
 
 getting, this putting away of grief into the holy, 
 still recesses of memory, away from the noise and 
 dust of day ; rather is it the enshrinement of the 
 dead in the precious amber of crystalized emo 
 tion. 
 
 Singularly, the weight of sorrow seemed to rest 
 heaviest upon Flora. Even in her beautiful Italian 
 home, adored by her husband and surrounded 
 by the admiration of that aristocratic circle to 
 which her husband s rank gave her entrance, she 
 yet for several years bore about her the ethereal 
 atmosphere that characterizes one to whom spir 
 itual things are nearer than material. But she, 
 too, is passing now to recognition of the fact that 
 the needs of the living are greater than those of 
 the dead. And the early passionate love for her 
 husband, so jarred by the tragedy of her wedding 
 day, is ripening to the fullness of its late fruition. 
 She still accompanies him in the best old and new 
 compositions for piano and violin, and on some 
 rare evenings when the grand salons of the Man- 
 tini palace are thrown open to the dilettanti of 
 Rome, artists and connoisseurs eagerly seize the 
 opportunity to hear some great sonata rendered as 
 it only can be rendered through the culture, in 
 tellect and sympathy of two such amateurs as the 
 Duke of Mantini and his wife. 
 
 But the Duchess of Mantini will never play 
 again the Eubinstein sonata, for she has learned
 
 164: 
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. 
 
 that it was the one best liked by the hapless Anita 
 and the most effective concert piece given by her 
 husband when, as Signor Ferranti, he appeared in 
 the concert halls of Paris. 
 
 :__* * ,_ 
 
 &k=z=S==*=#=e=*= 
 
 THE EXD.
 
 Date Due 
 
 PR.NTEDIN U.S.*. CAT. NO. 24 161
 
 000 544 692 /