He
had struck the piano, and the strings answered with a faint, aeolian
confusion. Then, as they regarded one another silently, a rustle, a
flurry, sounded on the stairs. A woman stumbled into the loft, sobbing,
crying something inarticulate, as she ran blindly toward them, with
white face and wild eyes. She halted abruptly, swayed as though to fall,
and turned, rather by instinct than by vision, to the other women.
"Bertha!" protested Gilly, with a helpless stare. "My dear!"
"I couldn't stay!" she cried. "The amah told me. Why did you ever let me
come back? Oh, do something--help me!"
The face and the voice came to Rudolph like another trouble across a
dream. He knew them, with a pang. This trembling, miserable heap, flung
into the arms of the dark-eyed girl, was Mrs. Forrester.
"Go on," said the girl, calmly. She had drawn the woman down beside her
on the rattan couch, and clasping her like a child, nodded toward the
piano. "Go on, as if the doctor hadn't--hadn't stopped."
Heywood was first to obey.
"Come, Chantel, chantez! Here's your song." He took the stool in
leap-frog fashion, and struck a droll simultaneous discord.
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