After weeks of rehearsals of the village children and a further influx of visitors (old friends of the twins), to take the part of the Duke and the other mortals, the great day dawned at last. It was glorious weather, as Fay felt sure it would be, for she assured me that she and Frank were always lucky where weather was concerned, and there were two performances--one in the afternoon, and another by moonlight assisted by Chinese lanterns. The places were all filled, and the audience was most enthusiastic; even Annabel (who with Arthur and myself had been banished from all the rehearsals) applauded heartily and beamed with approbation. The young local talent had been admirably trained, and the leading actors performed their parts with an ease that savoured more of the professional than of the amateur. (But this idea I locked up in my own breast: no expression of it would I have breathed to Annabel for worlds.) The village band, led by the organist on the drawing-room piano, which had been driven into the shrubbery for the purpose, conducted itself admirably, and discoursed music that was undeniably sweet. And the glamour of Shakspere and of Summer--the two greatest interpreters of beauty the world has ever known--was upon everything. But to me the climax of the whole affair--the crowning gem of the performance to which all the rest was but an adequate setting--was the fairy-dance introduced by Fay and Frank, as Titania and Puck. I shall not attempt to describe it, for how can mere words convey the indescribable and elusive charm of the perfection of grace and motion? It gave me the same sensations as I had experienced nearly a year ago when the twins danced the dance of the Needlework Guild, but greatly intensified, of course, by the beauty of their dress and the effectiveness of their surroundings. It was a sight to fill the onlookers with the joy of life, and to make the old feel young again. And as my blood throbbed in my veins at this vision of the incarnation of youth and joy and all the fulness of life, I understood why Wildacre had fallen in love with a dancer. CHAPTER XIII THE GARDEN OF DREAMS