Chapter XV: Repulsed

JEM had been listening to Meg with rapt attention as she sang her songs. He could hardly believe that the girl standing so quietly on the platform dressed in that green shimmering dress, and surrounded by all the rank and fashion of the neighbourhood, was the same with whom he had sat out the storm and to whom he had spoken of marriage on the heath two years ago.

He remembered her soft laugh as he had mentioned the subject that day, and how quickly she had stifled it on seeing it hurt him. But if she laughed then, when he had all to give her and she had nothing, what would she do now?

It was during the intervals that these bitter thoughts crowded across his mind. While the girl was actually singing he could think of nothing but her and her song.

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.

* * * * * *

Sheila stood and looked at the empty chairs and laughed bitterly. The day that was to celebrate her triumph had closed in disappointment. Meg had behaved shockingly. She had had no business to sing "The Last Rose of Summer" without consulting her; and as for her final denouement! She had acted like a common schoolgirl.

Sheila had not been near her since she had disgraced herself by springing off the platform, so she had no idea as to the cause of her extraordinary action. But whatever it was it only proved that it was quite impossible to inculcate proper behaviour into a girl who had spent her life among hedges and ditches. Well, Meg had had her chance and had not profited by it. She had thoroughly disappointed the one who had given it to her, and it seemed to Sheila that now there was nothing more to be done.

"Of course everyone will laugh at my failure," she thought bitterly. "It's most provoking. However, it will be an excuse for sending Meg away. I am quite tired of her companionship. She will have to look out for herself and get her living the best way she can."

Meg did not come down to dinner, and Sheila took no pains to find out the cause. No doubt she was ashamed of herself, she thought, and dreaded meeting her after such unwarrantable behaviour.