This was an ordeal which I greatly dreaded; for, from what I had seen of Mrs. Lansing, I knew she would criticise my performance closely; and fearing inability to acquit myself at all creditably, I trembled violently as I descended to the parlor, which was nearly full of visitors.
“Miss Lee, ladies,” said Mrs. Lansing, at the same time motioning towards the music-stool as the seat I was expected to occupy.
There was a film before my eyes as I took my post and nervously turned over the leaves of a music-book; which, by the way, was wrong side up, though I didn’t know it then! I have heard much of stage fright, and sure am I. that never did poor mortal suffer more from an attack of that nature than did I during the few moments that I sat there, trying to recall something familiar, something which I knew I could play. At last, when the patience of the company seemed nearly exhausted, I dashed off at random, playing parts of two or three different tunes, changing the key as many times, using the load pedal when I should have used the soft, and at last ending with the most horrid discord to which my ears ever listened. The audience were, undoubtedly, thunderstruck, for they spoke not for the space of a minute; and, with a feeling of desperation, I was about to make a second effort, hoping thereby to retrieve my character, when Mrs. Lansing said, in a cold, sarcastic voice, “That will do, Miss Lee; we are perfectly satisfied.” Then, turning to a haughty-looking young lady who sat by the window, she continued: “Come, Miss Porter; you certainly can’t refuse to favor us, now.”
With a very consequential air, for which I could not blame her, Miss Porter took my place, and, without any apparent effort, killed my poor performance outright; for she executed admirably some of the most difficult music. When she had finished, the ladies rose to go, Mrs. Lansing following them to the door, and whispering (I know she did) something about “her being humbugged again.”
When she returned to the room, I stole a glance at her face, which was very red, and indicative of anything but good will towards me. I felt the hot tears rising, but when, with a bang, she closed the piano, and turning towards me, demanded “how long I had taken music lessons,” I forced them back, and answered promptly, “five quarters.”
“Only five quarters!” she repeated, in evident amazement. “Why, Lina has taken three years, and she wouldn’t consider herself competent to teach, even were she poor, and obliged to do so.”
The latter part of this speech I did not fancy; for even if a person is poor, and obliged to work, they do not often like to be taunted with it; at least, I didn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I was at the mercy of Mrs. Lansing, who proceeded to say, that “she had often been deceived by Northern teachers, who thought to palm themselves off for better scholars than they really were; and now she had almost come to the conclusion that they were not so well educated as the majority of Southern girls.”
“I, at least, never intended to deceive you,” said I; “I told you in my letter that I was not an accomplished musician, and still you consented to employ me.”
Here I broke down entirely, and wept passionately, telling her, in broken sentences, that “however mortifying it would be, I was willing to go back, if she wished it.”
At this point, little Jessie, who all the time had been present, came to my side, and winding her arms around my neck, said, “You sha’n’t go home. We like you, Hal and me, and you sha’n’t go—shall she, Hal?”