The girl's colourless cheeks, Innocent of artificial application, looked the more pallid because her dark hair was drawn too far off her face, though its rich profusion tastefully arranged would have given it a certain beauty. But the expression of that face might have appealed to any tender heart, it was so wistful, and told of fear and anxiety as to the result of this first essay to win the favour of an audience.
"Where have they picked up this guy of a girl?" drawled a young dandy, as he surveyed her through his glass.
"From the gipsy camp, probably. There is one in the neighbourhood," replied a companion. "Anything for a new sensation, and we shall have one of a sort."
As Geraldine looked at the girl she was filled with a great womanly pity, but this changed in part to admiration when she sang, for the voice was wonderful.
Ill-trained she was, if the teaching she had had could be called training, but capable of much, and the singer was herself carried away by the music. She forgot herself, her dowdy garment, the rich silk and lace of that other singer, who had drawn her skirts aside as she passed, as if these would be contaminated by touching the paltry yellow stuff. Yet the wearer of the rich robe had sung out of tune and with a worn voice, and had been applauded for the glitter that surrounded her, although, even in her palmy days, she had never owned a voice like that which rang through the lips of that dowdy débutante in yellow.
The girl forgot all her self-consciousness, and even her audience. Her pale cheeks flushed, her dark eyes shone, and she compelled the applause of her hearers by the intuitive musical inspiration which accompanied her effort, and which was manifest despite its faults.
"Poor little beggar!" exclaimed the dandy who had called her a guy of a girl. "She's got a voice, and no mistake, but she wants everything else. I should think she'll hardly come on a second time. If she appears, I shall disappear."
Geraldine guessed the girl's story, and verified her convictions by after-inquiry. She found that she had been carefully brought up by a good mother, who had seen better days, but was widowed and poor. The girl herself was modest and retiring, but her speech and manners were refined, and her love of music and taste for it were undoubted. No fear that if a chance were given her she would fail to take advantage of it.
Having, however, passed the charmed circle, and found a certain amount of favour awaiting her, the girl was a little unwilling to withdraw from it.
Geraldine counted the cost, and decided to help this girl to become a mistress of the art she herself loved. It would entail somewhat severe self-denial, but it should be done. And it was.