He said the words jokingly, but Robert was very angry, and Theodora felt that his permission for the Sunday singing wavered in the balance. But the danger passed in his criticisms of the offender, whom he stigmatized as "the most uxorious and foolish of husbands."
Except to Theodora, he did not name the subject of her singing on the coming Sabbath, and as neither Mrs. Campbell nor her daughters spoke of it, Theodora followed the example set her and kept silence. When Sunday arrived, she went quietly out of the house while the rest were dressing, and at the last moment Robert joined his family, saying: "I will go to church with you this morning, mother." He gave no reason for his conduct, nor did Mrs. Campbell ask for one. She concluded that Theodora was sick, or that more likely she had had a dispute with her husband about the service, and in consequence had refused to attend it.
As it happened Mrs. Campbell had only heard Theodora sing from a distance, or behind closed doors, and Isabel was very near in the same ignorance of her voice and its ability. Christina was more likely to recognize the singer, for she had frequently heard her, but she did not, or at least only in a vague and uncertain manner. She wished Theodora had been present, that she might learn her deficiencies, and she wondered that two people should have voices so similar; but she reflected, that her own voice was so like Isabel's that her mother frequently mistook them. But Robert knew, and his heart melted to the passionate stress and longing of her cry: "O that I had wings like a dove," and thrilled to the joy and triumph of the rest hoped for.
The whole church was moved as if it had been one spirit and one heart. The place seemed to be on fire with feeling, and as the marvellous voice died away in peace and rest a strange but mighty influence swept over the usually cold and stolid congregation. Some wept silently, some bowed their heads, and a few stood and looked upward, while the soft, rolling notes of the organ died away in the benediction. Very quietly and speechlessly the congregation dispersed. All went home with the song in their hearts, but not until they sat down in their homes did they begin to talk together of the psalm and the singer. Even Mrs. Campbell was touched and pleased, and she took a great delight in praising the singer, as they sat at lunch.
"That was singing," she said, "and the finest singing I ever heard. Many people pretend to sing who know nothing about it and have no voice to sing with—but, thank God, for once in my life, I have heard singing."
"It sounded very like Dora's voice," said Christina.
"You are mistaken," replied Isabel, "besides, the voice we heard this morning is a finely trained voice—I mean, as voices are trained for oratorio and public singing. It was a soprano, and soprano voices are very much alike."
No one cared to dispute Isabel's explanation and the conversation drifted to the sermon from the same psalm. "It was a good sermon," said Mrs. Campbell, "but people will forget it in the song."
"The song was the sermon to-day," said Isabel.
"The sermon was water, the song was wine," said Robert.