he ballet ranks to take the place of the lady--a hard,
high-voiced soubrette, who was to have played _Marie_, had not a sore
throat mercifully prevented her. But at my first "Thank you--I'd rather
go--yonder--," pointing to the distant convent, his eyes widened,
suddenly a sort of tremor came to his lips. He was at my side in an
instant, telling me to indicate my convent as on the opposite side, so
that my own attitude would be more picturesque to the audience. Between
the acts he said to me: "Have you any opinion of _Marie_, Miss er--er?"

"My name's 'just Clara,'" I kindly interjected.

"Well," he smiled, "'just Clara,' have you formed any idea of this
_Marie's_ character?"

"Why," I answered, "to me she seems a perfect walking gratitude; in real
life she would be rather dog-like, I'm afraid; but in the play she is
just beautiful."

He looked solemnly at me, and then he said: "And _you_ are just
beautiful, too, for you are a little thinking actress. Now if you have
the power of expressing what you think, do you know I am very honestly
interested, 'just Clara,' in your share of to-night's work."

The play went well as a whole, and as _Marie_ is one of the most tenderly
pathetic creations conceivable, I sat and wept as I told her story; but
imagine my amazement when, as Mr. Barrett bent over my hand, a great hot
tear fell from his cheek upon it.

"Oh, my girl," he said, when the play was over, "don't let anything on
God's footstool dishearten you. Work! work! you have such power, such
delicacy of expression with it--you _are Marie_, the little stupidly
religious, dog-like 'Marie the resigned,' that you have renamed for me
'Marie the grateful.'"

When I was leading woman he wished to do that play for a single night. Of
course _Marco_ belonged to me, but the big, handsome, cold-voiced second
woman could well talk through _Marco_, while she would (artistically
speaking) damn _Marie_. Mr. Barrett was very hungry-eyed, there was
positive famine in them, as he mournfully said: "I would give a great
deal to hear you tell _Marie's_ story again--to see you and your little
bundle and bandaged foot. Such a clever touch that--that bandaged foot,
no other _Marie_ dares do that; but you have turned your back on the
'grateful one'; you can't afford to do her again."

"Mr. Barrett," I asked, "do you wish me to play _Marie_ now?"

"Do I wish it?" he echoed, "I wish it with all my heart, but I have no
right to ask a sacrifice f