And now came "Annie Laurie."
Slowly caressing her violin with her face, even as a mother would her babe, Mona played.
And every whispered heartache, every pulse of undying love that that old, old song contains, came forth to reach and thrill the hearts of that audience as naught else could.
When it was ended and Mona bowed low, what a storm came!
Men rose and cheered and women, too, while they brushed the tears away.
Again and again did that wave of stamping and voiced applause arise, till the very roof quivered, and still once again.
And Mona, the poor child, whose will, stronger than love, had carried her through that awful ordeal without a break, now out of sight, lay sobbing in the arms of Jess.
She had won her fame without a flaw, and then, womanlike, had collapsed.