Flaxman, but she was gazing intently into the
burning coals, with a slight flush on her face, caused, I knew, by Mr.
Winthrop's words. A few moments after I glanced at my guardian. His eyes
were closed, the lines of his face looked hard and stern. I wondered if
it never softened even in sleep, or did it always wear that look that
some way brought to my mind the old Vikings of the frozen north.
Mrs. Flaxman presently arose saying it was time for us to dress for the
concert. Mr. Winthrop looked up to say he had secured us an escort, and
would not accompany us.
"I thought you particularly admired Beethoven's Ninth Symphony," I
exclaimed, with surprise.
"I do not think that crowd of amateurs will do much; although Bovyer
gives them great praise. I would as soon hear that Larkum baby crowing as
to hear such a masterpiece mangled."
"Some passages will be well rendered, surely."
"What matter, if one is all the time dreading a discord? I shall expect,
however, a full account of the performance from you."
"I have already heard this symphony rendered by the court musicians in
Belgium. I had no heart to practice my lessons for weeks after."
"And why not?"
"It seemed useless for me to waste time or money over an art so far
beyond my powers to master."
His face softened, while he arose from his chair and came a few steps
nearer to me.
"Only one or two human beings, so far as we know, have had musical
powers equal to Beethoven. Most men are satisfied if they can perform
harmoniously his creations.
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