Then the full, soft notes of the violin were carried to his ears, and with a smothered cry of exultation he raised his eyes and saw for the first time his own child in her gown of white with the instrument he loved at her throat, while her slender hand drew the bow with the true skill of the artist.
Before Miss Nevin could stop him, he had risen in his seat, saying excitedly: "It is mia bella Edith.

She has come again." Then realizing what he had done, he sat down, and, burying his face in his hands, sobbed openly.
Persons around him, startled by his sudden cry, glared at him angrily for creating a commotion during Eleanor's exquisite number, then again turned their attention to the soloist.
"I must see her.

I must see her," he muttered over and over again.

"She is my child; mine." "So you shall," whispered Miss Nevin soothingly, "but not until the concert is over.

If we tell her now, Guido, it will upset her so that she can't appear again this evening, and she has two more numbers." Unabashed by the emotion he had displayed, the virtuoso wiped his eyes, and sat waiting like one in a trance for his child to appear again.
Anne and Grace were alive with curiosity as to the outcome of Anne's suggestion.