"They are impatient to hear you again," he said smiling, "and so am I. I never expected anything like this."
"I'm glad," said Meg, her eyes shining.
She was hardly aware of the clapping that heralded her approach, so delighted was she at the reception Sheila herself gave her; it excited her so, that for the first moment her voice trembled as she began her song, but before many bars were sung, she forgot Sheila and her audience and was conscious of nothing save the music which she was making and which delighted her soul.
A murmur of applause broke on her ear as the last notes trembled on the air.
Sheila had prepared a song for an encore, and Meg was nothing loath to sing it. But even then those listening were not satisfied, and the girl without thought and forgetful for the moment of Sheila, broke out into "The Last Rose of Summer."
It was a song that she had not sung since her tramping days. After the first moment of surprise that the singer should have chosen an unaccompanied song the audience sat spellbound; for the extreme pathos and sympathy displayed in the voice touched them to an unusual degree.
Meg threw out her notes with all the force and feeling of which she was capable, quite unconscious of the fact of Sheila sitting idle at the piano with a slight frown of annoyance puckering her forehead.
As for the audience they scarcely missed the accompanist after the first moment or two, their attention being entirely riveted on the lovely girl standing before them singing her heart out.
They were entranced.
Then suddenly they became aware of a look of intense and sudden fear crossing the face of the singer, as her voice faltered.