His answer struck me as strangely unlike him. If he had cried, "The Chopin Society be damned!" I should have felt more at ease, less oppressed by a sensation of nameless dread. There was something distinctly uncanny in Tom's manner.
"It would be a good joke on 'em, wouldn't it, if I should accept their bid?" he remarked as he lighted his cigar. "Confound their impudence! That's what they deserve."
"But--but--Tom, would you try to--to play?" I gasped, in dismay.
Tom laughed in a way that shocked my overwrought nerves. It was a shrill, unnatural note of merriment, that struck me as diabolical. "Play?" he repeated, sardonically. "Why not? Do you imagine, madame, that the marvelous genius of Thomas Remsen, interpreter of Frederic François Chopin, is to be confined strictly to your musicals? That would be a gross injustice to the music-loving world, would it not? But come into the library with me, Winifred. I must resume my studies as a student of 'the master.'"
I followed Tom mechanically, fascinated by his gruesome mood. For the life of me I couldn't tell whether he was joking or in earnest, whether it was his mind or mine that had lost its poise.
CHAPTER V.
A POLISH FANTASIA.
Ah, sure, as Hindoo legends tell,
When music's tones the bosom swell
The scenes of former life return.
DR. LEYDEN.
I made a clean breast of the whole matter to Mrs. Jack Van Corlear the next morning. I had sent for her early in the day, saying that I was in trouble and needed advice, and she came to me at once. It was a great relief to me just to look into her eyes and hold her hand.
"It's about Tom!" she remarked, sagely. "Has he done it again?"