He loved her so that he wondered that she did not feel him even right away on the platform. Had Meg looked at him as he was looking at her he knew she would be conscious of the fact. Perhaps if he looked long enough her eyes might be drawn towards him.
When her first song was finished and she had disappeared, the time dragged. So long were the minutes, that he began to wonder if she were going to sing again or if his chance of watching her was over. He could hardly bear the thought of this. How he was to endure the fact that she was at Friars Court, within a mile or two of the town in which he lived, without seeing her or speaking to her, he did not know. But as these thoughts coursed through his mind he heard a loud clapping and once more Meg stood before him. Her eyes were shining and a happy smile played about her lips.
Jem groaned. He had imagined that to see her happy and cared for, would satisfy him, but he had deceived himself. As he stood and looked at her, he felt he could not do without her—and he groaned, as he became aware that she could never be part of his life again. She did not want him. Had he had a suspicion that she was in difficulty or need he would have taken no time in making her aware of his presence, but that happy smile and those shining eyes were a death knell to his hopes: for he loved her too much to disturb her in any way, or to come between her and happiness. If Meg became aware of his proximity he knew her well enough to be sure that she would welcome him. But to make himself known to her would put her in an awkward position and perhaps disturb her peaceful existence. He was not going to be such a brute as to run a chance of doing this. So he listened hungrily to her singing and drank in every expression of her face.
Suddenly the song stopped and a loud clapping told him that others beside him knew how to appreciate her voice. His heart beat. Was this to be the last of it? Was he to hear her voice no more?
But even before there was time to answer the question she had broken out into "The Last Rose of Summer." Jem stood entranced.
Then it seemed to him that Meg looked straight into his eyes over the heads of the people. Surely she had recognised him and was singing directly to him and for him. It seemed like a call. Forgetful that he was trespassing, forgetful of all his surroundings and of the grand folk that sat in groups before the platform, he pushed through the undergrowth, breaking branches on his way, vaulted the fence and made for the platform.
Then he stopped still as if he had been struck. Was she—could she be running away from him? Could it be true that Meg did not wish to see him; did not want to remember her old life; preferred to drop her old friend? Was it possible that he was nothing to her now?
He stood rooted to the spot. Then he saw a man servant coming towards him. It was doubtless to inform him that he was trespassing.
He would not wait to be told that. He turned away, stumbling blindly towards the road.
* * * * * *