Radio and television mirror (May-Oct 1940)

ness. Finding yourself. . . . Knowing that a garden can be a whole world, finding the happiness other people have always known." Kit's chin tilted defiantly. "Just the same," she said, "I want to be a singer." "Good!" Blasco shouted. "Then you must sing for us — now." She didn't, though — not right away. Somehow or other Blasco and Laure and Tom all gathered around Pierre at the piano, and for a while they did the singing, while Kit hovered in the background, nervous and bewildered. Finally the chorus — strangely inexpert for one that included Laure Vincents — swelled to a ribald conclusion and Blasco motioned Kit over. "What shall it be, young lady?" KIT put one hand on the piano to steady herself. She said formally, "I should like to sing the Flute Song from 'Dinora'." Blasco came over to sit beside me, and Kit began. Blasco shifted restlessly in his chair. "Ah, Camilla," he whispered, "why do amateurs always choose of all songs the most difficult?" Laure cast him a look of pitying amusement, then leaned forward, chin on hand. Near Kit, unnoticed by her, Tom stood. All his young, hurt love and adoration were in his face. Kit finished. There was silence. The color was gone from her face. She knew the verdict, before a word had been spoken. I wanted to take her into my arms and soothe away her unhappiness — but I knew this had to be. "You have a very nice voice," Blasco said at last. "Of course, that song is very difficult — even for a truly great singer — " He stopped, hating his task. "You mean I haven't any voice." "A very sweet voice, my child — a drawing room voice, but that is all." Kit proved then that she was a thoroughbred. She smiled, and thanked him, and played the hostess until he and Laure and Pierre had left, with Tom seeing them to their car. But then she broke down. "Camilla — you're cruel!" she sobbed. "You knew — you must have known! But you deliberately humiliated me in front of those — those — those celebrities! I hate them — all they could talk about was tomatoes — wolfing down food like a lot of animals! And you knew they'd laugh at me!" "Yes, Kit, I knew. But if I had told you, you'd never have believed me." "Kit!" Tom was standing in the doorway, holding out his arms. "Kit! Come back to me!" "I won't have you pitying me!" she flashed at him. "Pitying you?" A slow compassionate smile parted his lips. "Honey, if you only knew how much I admired you, standing up there and taking it on the chin." I left them holding each other, tight, and went upstairs. Now that it was over I was very tired. I would have to see about passage back to Italy, I thought vaguely. I pushed open the door of my room. Madge was there, waiting for me. "Mother — I want to talk to you — " She took a step forward, her hands held out. "Mother! You're crying! Has Kit been saying unpleasant things to you?" "No . . . She's just hurt, poor child. And I am tired." "I was listening, just inside the kitchen door. I heard everything that happened. And I know — I realized that with all your experience, you must have known this would happen." "Yes," I said again, "I knew. And I knew this was the only possible way to convince Kit — by hurting her." "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me misunderstand?" I smiled. "I knew you too well, my dear. You wouldn't have let me hurt her. You aren't as . . . ruthless as I." Madge stood poised, leaning forward a little, as if she would like to come to me but did not dare. When she spoke her words were halting, as if they must fight their way out. "Thank you — Mother. Forgive me for — the things I said — for misjudging you. I knew — I know now — you would have liked to have Kit with you in Italy." yES, there was a temptation to make Kit the daughter I threw away. But I couldn't let her ruin her life." I sat down in the gay chintz armchair, and I added words I had never before spoken aloud: "I am an old woman, Madge." "Nonsense!" 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