erce struggle. It was, in fact, a tranquil consciousness of beauty
which gave audacity to Sara's words, and put the ordinary question of
pride out of the question. Was it not rather a case of the goddess
putting on humanity, of the queen condescending to a subject. _La reine
s'amuse_ was the unuttered, constant motto on her heart of hearts. The
blood of Asiatic princes ran in her veins, and a sovereign contempt for
manners, as opposed to passions and self-will, ruled her fierce spirit.
But what should she do? A moment's reflection had shown her that Brigit
could have no difficulty in proving that she was not the mysterious lady
who visited Orange's lodgings. Having weighed all the disadvantages,
Sara now directed her attention to the advantages she could snatch out
of the dilemma. At last she hit on a bold plan. She rang a bell and a
housemaid answered the summons.

"Is Mrs. Parflete in her bedroom?" asked Lady Sara; "and where is her
bedroom?"

"Her bedroom is next to yours, my lady. She is in there now."

"Thank you."

Sara walked along the corridor till she reached an oak door on which was
a card bearing the name she sought. She tapped, and heard Brigit herself
reply--

"Come in."

The young actress was lying, in a black silk dressing-gown, on the sofa.
Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and she had evidently been fast
asleep, for her cheeks were less pale than usual, her eyes were bright,
and the happiness of some pleasant dream still lingered in their
expression.

"Lady Sara--how good of you to come!" she exclaimed; "I have been trying
to rest. I want to play well this evening."

"You will play beautifully, of course," said Sara, submitting, even in
her jealousy, to the charm and grace of her unconscious rival. "I have
come on a difficult errand," she added, abruptly; "you may not
understand, but I hope--I believe--you will."

She became so pale as she uttered these words that Brigit leant forward
with a gesture of reassurance. In spite of her fragility she was, from
the habit of self-control, a stronger spirit.

"You may be sure that I shall understand," she said.

"Forgive me, then, but some enemy has circulated a report that you went
to Mr. Orange's rooms in Vigo Street last Wednesday."

A deep flush swept over Brigit's face.

"I was not there," she said.

"I know," said Sara. "I know you were not there. They made a mistake. It
was I they saw--not you--it was I."

Brigit dropped her eyes