yet gathering to itself a poignancy of sweetness, rendered richer by
the discipline of suffering.

"O memories that bless and burn!
O barren gain and bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross . . . to kiss the cross."

Only those who have heard Jane sing THE ROSARY can possibly realise
how she sang "I KISS EACH BEAD." The lingering retrospection in each
word; breathed out a love so womanly, so beautiful, so tender, that
her identity was forgotten--even by those in the audience who knew
her best--in the magic of her rendering of the song.

The accompaniment, which opens with a single chord, closes with a
single note.

Jane struck it softly, lingeringly; then rose, turned from the
piano, and was leaving the platform, when a sudden burst of wild
applause broke from the audience. Jane hesitated, paused, looked at
her aunt's guests as if almost surprised to find them there. Then
the slow smile dawned in her eyes and passed to her lips. She stood
in the centre of the platform for a moment, awkwardly, almost shyly;
then moved on as men's voices began to shout "Encore! 'core!" and
left the platform by the side staircase.

But there, behind the scenes, in the semi-darkness of screens and
curtains, a fresh surprise awaited Jane, more startling than the
enthusiastic tumult of her audience.