III

Hilda said: “So there you are, David. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Don’t let’s stay in thisroom, it’s so frightfully cold.”

David did not answer for a minute. He was standing¹ looking at a chair, a low chair with fadedsatin upholstery. He said abruptly²:

“That’s her chair .?.?. the chair she always sat in .?.?. just the same—it’s just the same. Onlyfaded, of course.”

A little frown creased³ Hilda’s forehead. She said:

“I see. Do let’s come out of here, David. It’s frightfully cold.”

David took no notice. Looking round, he said:

“She sat in here mostly. I remember sitting on that stool there while she read to me. Jack⁴ theGiant Killer⁵—that was it—Jack the Giant Killer. I must have been six years old then.”

Hilda put a firm hand through his arm.

“Come back to the drawing room, dear. There’s no heating in this room.”

He turned obediently, but she felt a little shiver go through him.

“Just the same,” he murmured. “Just the same. As though time had stood still.”

Hilda looked worried. She said in a cheerful determined⁶ voice:

“I wonder where the others are? It must be nearly teatime.”

David disengaged his arm and opened another door.

“There used to be a piano in here .?.?. Oh, yes, here it is! I wonder if it’s in tune⁷.”

He sat down and opened the lid, running his hands lightly over the keys.

“Yes, it’s evidently kept tuned⁸.”

He began to play. His touch was good, the melody flowed out from under his fingers.

Hilda asked: “What is that? I seem to know it, and I can’t quite remember.”

He said: “I haven’t played it for years. She used to play it. One of Mendelssohn’s SongsWithout Words.”

The sweet, over-sweet, melody filled the room. Hilda said:

“Play some Mozart, do.”

David shook his head. He began another Mendelssohn.

Then suddenly he brought his hands down upon the keys in a harsh discord⁹. He got up. Hewas trembling all over. Hilda went to him.

She said: “David—David.”

He said: “It’s nothing—it’s nothing. .?.?.”

 

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