Afloat | Page 7

great building, but even before entering it I discovered that it possessed
an organ of extraordinary power and that someone was performing on it
with a vengeance. Inside the noise was tremendous--a bigger noise
from an organ, it seemed to me, than I had ever heard before, even at
the Albert Hall and the Crystal Palace, but even more astonishing than
the uproar was the sight that met my eyes. The boys, nine or ten sturdy
little rustics with round sunburnt West Country faces, were playing the
roughest game ever witnessed in a church. Some were engaged in a sort
of flying fight, madly pursuing one another up and down the aisles and
over the pews, and whenever one overtook another he would seize hold
of him and they would struggle together until one was thrown and
received a vigorous pommelling. Those who were not fighting were
dancing to the music. It was great fun to them, and they were shouting
and laughing their loudest only not a sound of it all could be heard on
account of the thunderous roar of the organ which filled and seemed to
make the whole building tremble. The boys took no notice of me, and
seeing that there was a singularly fine west window, I went to it and
stood there some time with my back to the game which was going on at
the other end of the building, admiring the beautiful colours and trying
to make out the subjects depicted. In the centre part, lit by the
after-glow in the sky to a wonderful brilliance, was the figure of a saint,
a lovely young woman in a blue robe with an abundance of loose
golden-red hair and an aureole about her head. Her pale face wore a
sweet and placid expression, and her eyes of a pure forget-me-not blue
were looking straight into mine. As I stood there the music, or noise,
ceased and a very profound silence followed--not a giggle, not a
whisper from the outrageous young barbarians, and not a sound of the

organist or of anyone speaking to them. Presently I became conscious
of some person standing almost but not quite abreast of me, and turning
sharply I found a clergyman at my side. He was the vicar, the person
who had been letting himself go on the organ; a slight man with a
handsome, pale, ascetic face, clean-shaven, very dark-eyed, looking
more like an Italian monk or priest than an English clergyman. But
although rigidly ecclesiastic in his appearance and dress, there was
something curiously engaging in him, along with a subtle look which it
was not easy to fathom. There was a light in his dark eyes which
reminded me of a flame seen through a smoked glass or a thin black
veil, and a slight restless movement about the corners of his mouth as if
a smile was just on the point of breaking out. But it never quite came;
he kept his gravity even when he said things which would have gone
very well with a smile.
"I see," he spoke, and his penetrating musical voice had, too, like his
eyes and mouth, an expression of mystery in it, "that you are admiring
our beautiful west window, especially the figure in the centre. It is quite
new--everything is new here--the church itself was only built a few
years ago. This window is its chief glory: it was done by a good
artist--he has done some of the most admired windows of recent years;
and the centre figure is supposed to be a portrait of our generous
patroness. At all events she sat for it to him. You have probably heard
of Lady Y--?"
"What!" I exclaimed. "Lady Y--: that funny old woman!"
"No--middle-aged," he corrected, a little frigidly and perhaps a little
mockingly at the same time.
"Very well, middle-aged if you like; I don't know her personally. One
hears about her; but I did not know she had a place in these parts."
"She owns most of this parish and has done so much for us that we can
very well look leniently on a little weakness--her wish that the future
inhabitants of the place shall not remember her as a middle-aged
woman not remarkable for good looks--'funny,' as you just now said."

He was wonderfully candid, I thought. But what extraordinary benefits
had she bestowed on them, I asked, to enable them to regard, or to say,
that this picture of a very beautiful young female was her likeness!
"Why," he said, "the church would not have been built but for her. We
were astonished at the sum she offered to contribute towards the work,
and at once set about pulling the small old church down so as to rebuild
on the exact site."