Haldane was waiting for us when we came in. "Our men have had a busy afternoon. All the shares they offered were bought up, and there is no sign of any weakness yet," he said.
We formed a somewhat silent company during the earlier portion of the evening. Haldane sat busy, pencil in hand, and finally passed a page of his notebook across to us. "I don't quite know who is backing Lane, but his purse is a tolerably long one," he said. "You see, we must produce shares, or the difference between their value at that time and the price we sold at, to this extent on settling day, Ormesby."
"Of which nobody would apparently sell us one," I answered ruefully.
Haldane nodded. "You mean, of course, to-day. A good many people may be willing to do so before this hour to-morrow—if not it will be time then to consider seriously. Meanwhile, the best we can do is to seek innocent relaxation, and I see that Miss Redmond is singing at the opera house."
I was hardly in the mood to enjoy a concert, though I was curious to hear Redmond's daughter; but inaction had grown almost insufferable and when we took our places in the crowded building I felt glad that I had come. The sight of the close-packed multitude and the hum of many voices helped to hold in check my nervous restlessness. Nevertheless, though a lover of music, I scarcely heard a word of the first three songs, and only became intent when a clapping of hands rolled round the building as a dark-haired girl stood forward in the glare of the footlights. It was evidently she who had drawn the perspiring crowd together, and that alone was an eloquent testimonial, considering the temperature.
Ailin Redmond was very plainly dressed, and she smiled her acknowledgments with a simplicity that evidently pleased the audience, while perhaps in compliment to them she wore as sole adornment a few green maple leaves. Then I settled myself to listen, and continued almost spell-bound to the end of the song, wondering where the girl I had seen herding cattle barefooted not very long ago had acquired such power. She was not, from a technical view, perhaps, a finished singer; but Western audiences can feel, if, for the most part, they cannot criticise; and I think she drove the full meaning of the old Irish ballad home to the hearts of all of them. A wailing undertone rang through it, and the effect of the whole was best expressed as uncanny. It was no doubt the strangeness of her themes, and the contrast she presented to her stereotyped rivals, which had led to the girl's success.
In any case the applause was vociferous, and continued until the singer returned and stood still, with hands lightly clasped, looking, not at the expectant audience, but directly at us. There was a curious expression in her eyes, which were fixed steadily on myself and Haldane beside me. Then I gained understanding as she commenced to sing, for there was no mistaking the fact that she meant the song for us. It was a clever resetting of such an old-world ballad as I think no Anglo-Saxon could have written; its burden was a mourning over ancient wrongs and hunger for revenge; but the slender, dark-haired girl held the power to infuse her spirit into me. My lips and hands closed tight as I saw, what I think she wished me to, Helen Boone dying in a sod hovel, and the wagon that bore the dead man rolling through murky blackness across the prairie.
Then I shook all misgivings from me, feeling that though every acre and bushel of grain must go, and we failed, they would be well spent in an attempt to pull down the man who had brought about such things. That others might suffer with him counted little then. They had clutched at their dividends—dividends wrung by him out of the agony of poor men; and their ignorance, which was scarcely possible, did not free them from responsibility.
There was dead stillness for several seconds between the accompanist's final chord and the tumultuous applause which the slightly puzzled audience accorded, while, when it died away, I saw that Boone's forehead was beaded and his lips slightly quivering. Even Haldane appeared less than usually at ease.
"Miss Redmond is a young lady of uncommon and even uncomfortable gifts," he said. "Women, as you will discover some day, Ormesby, are responsible for most of the mischief that goes on, as well as a large amount of good. For instance, it was the encouragement of one of them which helped to start me on this campaign, and now, when slightly doubtful respecting the wisdom of the step, another must sing eerie songs to me with a purpose. I think we will walk round and call on her."