"Frank--forgive me--I--can't forgive myself, Miss Whitburn _made_ me come--I---- Oh, Frank, I'm so miserable, I'm not proud any more." Her head drooped and Frank Weston only saw a beautiful head of soft golden brown hair; then the greatness of his character triumphed over his pride, for suddenly he put his strong arms round her.
"Jeanie," he said; "Jeanie----" He only heard a sob, and his answer was a passionate kiss imprinted on her golden hair, for her face was hidden; then a minute of exquisite silence and then a loud knock which made them fly apart.
"Jeanie, _she_, Miss Whitburn, asked us--will you play that last duet we played together, do you remember it?"
"Remember it! Oh, Frank, I can't, I've no violin."
"Miss Whitburn is a very wonderful person. Come, she said a chair was ready for you. Oh, my love, my love!"
Jeanie fled to the side door, then she sank into a chair that was close by. The next moment Frank Weston appeared on the platform amidst a storm of welcome. He did not smile or bow, but at once took his violin, nodded to the accompanist who had come by a later train, and began to play. All those who had a soul for music seemed to be lifted to another sphere, and even those who had not, watched with breathless wonder the face of the great musician. He saw only, sitting before him, Jeanie Hamilton, and she never took her eyes from him, for her there was no one else in the room.
Right at the other end of the barn Lewis Waycott sat next to Maud, who was still trembling with excitement.
"Oh, Lewis, it's too, too wonderful. The camellia you brought was his. It's all Toney's doing. I think she is the most wonderful person I have ever known---- _You_ always appreciated her, you have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yes, I always did. How did she manage this?"
"I can't think how. He was so proud--I think Jeanie would soon have died--of a broken heart."
That concert was talked of for many a long day. Those who knew said that Frank Weston excelled himself, but something else wonderful happened. There was still ten minutes of the allotted time when he had finished his last piece. He put down his violin, walked down the steps and offered his arm to Jeanie Hamilton.
There was another storm of applause. Miss Hamilton, whom so many present knew was considered worthy to play with the genius--and how beautiful she looked! How was it no one had sooner recognised her beauty and her talent, and what a lovely dress! Jeanie was still in a dream. This was happening all long ago, when she and Frank had played together, of course it was for the last time--but she must play her best, she must not disgrace him in public, though it was the hardest thing she had ever done.