The next moment she was bowing and withdrawing, aglow with
gratitude for an applause that came in volume as though for the finish
of a chariot-race, and Hugh saw as plainly as the experienced actor, if
not with as clear a recognition of Mrs. Gilmore's attiring skill, that
the tribute was at least as much to the singer as to the song.
The same perception came to Ramsey in the stateroom to which she had
returned and in which she stood alone, hearkening and trembling. She
noiselessly laughed for joy to be, however unworthily, the daughter of
Gideon Hayle, never doubting it was for his name, his blood, his
likeness, she stood thus approved. The conviction gave her better heart
for the task yet before her. She glided to the rear door, locked it, and
dropped to her knees.
"Oh, Lord 'a' mercy!" she murmured. "Oh, Basile, my brother! And oh,
mom-a, dear, brave mom-a!" She did not name her father, though his
figure was central in her imagination, broad, overtowering, intrepid,
imperious.
The applause persisted. Now it sank but at once it rose again, easy
overflow of a popular mind glad of all unrestraint and always ready--as
even she discerned--for the joy of exaggeration. She sprang up and moved
toward it, her eyes sparkling responsively. Yet her tremor was piteous
and in mute thought she said again, at high speed:
"My brother, oh, my brother! I'll be back in a minute.
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