But Cyrus did not return the smile. He obviously regarded the message
with a certain solemnity--and awe. Again he closed his eyes and again
turned up his face.
"It is still coming."
"What is still coming, Cyrus? The same message?"
"Yes, sir, the same message--that we are wanted there."
"Where?"
"I don't know. But it isn't anywheres near here. It's a good ways off.
And we are wanted very much;--oh, very much!"
Dr. Alton turned away. "Well, Cyrus, when you get your message in more
definite form I shall be glad to consider it."
As he entered the house, however, he stood in the doorway a moment,
looking back. Cyrus was still standing on the mounting block, with face
upturned. On the ground sat Zac, still waiting patiently for his hero
to return to earth.
When Cyrus followed his father into the house he found him warming
himself before the open fire. He approached and stood before him.
"Father, why isn't there a picture of my mother somewhere round the
house?"
Dr. Alton raised his eyebrows at the unexpected question. "Why do you
ask, Cyrus?"
"'Cause somebody was here to-day who wanted to know."
"Who?"
With a knowing shake of the head the diplomat answered, "Oh, I mustn't
tell you. I promised not to."
"Well, you must keep your promise."
"But why isn't there one?"
"It's a long story, Cyrus. Some day I will tell you, but not just now."
"But why not now? This is when I want to know. I may forget about it."
Dr. Alton was familiar with the gimlet quality of the youthful mind.
"Well--Cyrus--let us wait and see if you forget it. And if you----"
At that moment he happened to look more carefully at a letter in his
hand, delivered during his absence and which he had just taken from
the table. Cyrus waited for him to go on. He waited in vain. Dr. Alton
stepped hastily to the window for more light, and read the letter. It
was evidently of unusual interest, as he forgot to finish his sentence.
And when, at last, Cyrus asked him to continue he did not even hear his
son's voice.
The letter was written in a woman's hand, and in French.
At the supper table that evening father and son were sitting alone, as
usual. The son was talkative, but the father was silent; so silent that
Cyrus, at last discouraged by the complete indifference of a usually
sympathetic audience, became silent himself.
And the father had abundant material for thought. He was trying to
understand how the message in the letter had reached the boy. By what
mysterious agency had this yearning of a woman's heart stirred the
brain of the far away Cyrus? Could there be a harmony between these two
spirits so intimate as to render the written word superfluous? These
were questions he tried in vain to answer.
When the meal was finished and Joanna began to clear away the things,
Dr. Alton surprised her by asking if Cyrus had a good suit of clothes.
"A good suit of clothes! Of course he has!"
"I mean, a nice new suit, that is becoming to him."
"He has that pretty dark suit with the wide collar that he wears
Sundays."
"Yes,--yes--I know--but would that be good enough to wear in New York."
"In New York? Is Cyrus going to New York?" And there was a ring of
dismay in Joanna's voice.
"I think so."
"When?"
"To-morrow."
"What for?"
Dr. Alton hesitated. "I have some--sort of business there and--will
take him with me."
"Will he stay long?"
"Only a day or two."
"Heaven be praised! I began to be frightened."
The doctor laughed. "You needn't worry, Joanna. We shall come back
alive--and very soon."
The next day Cyrus and his father were in the wicked city. The
important business of the following morning was taking the boy to a
fashionable establishment and fitting him out in stylish raiment.
And when the deed was done Dr. Alton realized that Cyrus, in these
new, well fitting clothes, with his intelligent face and erect little
figure, was not a boy to be ashamed of.
"To-night," said Dr. Alton, "we go to the opera."
"Opera." And Cyrus repeated the new word. "Opera. What is that, father?"
"It's a theater, where they sing."
"Isn't the circus better?"
"Well, yes; sometimes it is better. But you come to the opera with me
to-night and to-morrow I will take you to the Hippodrome. That's fair,
isn't it?"
Cyrus agreed that it was.
To a boy of eight, who has never been to any theater, Grand Opera is a
strong beginning. When he and his father took their seats--seats not
too far from the stage--Cyrus, in wonder, looked about him and above
him, at the vast auditorium, the gorgeous architecture, the radiant
women and their flashing jewels. And so many of them! This was a new
world of which he had never heard. Wide open were his eyes; also his
mouth--and all his senses. He absorbed everything. The overture filled
him to the brim with a celestial joy. Such music he had not imagined.
Then, to his surprise, all the lights were lowered and the vast chamber
was in gloom. And when, the next moment, the great curtain began
slowly to ascend, disclosing the scene behind, then, indeed, came the
culmination of his joy and amazement.
What followed was bewildering--the music and the changing lights; the
peasants, the soldiers and the kings and queens. And everybody singing!
Then the ballet, with the fairies! The boy was enchanted.
But, among the many figures, there was one that stood out the clearest.
It was a woman. Her face, her voice, her singing and her story moved
him beyond any of the others. The words that were sung were strange
words and they told him nothing, but he guessed the story. This
lovely woman with a lovely voice had a diadem in her hair and was in
trouble--troubled by a hateful man in splendid clothes, with lavender
legs. But, however deep her trouble, she sang so well and in such
a heavenly voice that the whole audience applauded her, again and
again. It was clear, even to a child, that she was the queen of the
evening, the star of stars. And once, between two acts, when she came
out upon the stage, between the good lover and the wicked nobleman,
bowing to the audience in acknowledgment of flowers, Cyrus saw, and
saw so clearly there was no mistake, that she looked directly at him,
Cyrus, and at his father! And as she saw them, she bowed and smiled
more radiantly than ever! And so clear it was that he looked up and
whispered:
"Why, father, she was bowing to us!"