tions were thus
gloriously embodied was the greatest pleasure of his life. All his doubt
and bitterness was lost in a flood of gratitude to Helen and to the
kindly audience.

As soon as he could decently escape he hurried again to Helen. The stage
this time was crowded with people. The star was hid, as of old, in a mob
of her admirers, but they were of finer quality than ever before. The
grateful acknowledgment of these good people was an inspiration. Every
one smiled, and yet in the eyes of many of the women tears sparkled.

Helen, catching sight of her lover, lifted her hand and called to him,
and though he shrank from entering the throng he obeyed. Those who
recognized him fell back with a sort of awe of his good-fortune. Helen
reached her hand, saying, huskily, "I am tired--take me away."

He took her arm and turned to the people still crowding to speak to her.
"Friends, Miss Merival is very weary. I beg you to excuse her. It has
been a very hard week for her."

And with an air of mastery, as significant as it was unconscious he led
her to her room.

Safely inside the door she turned, and with a finger to her lips, a
roguish light in her eyes, she said: "I want to tell you something. I
can't wait any longer. _Enid's Choice_ ran to the capacity of the house
last week."

For a moment he did not realize the full significance of this. "What!
_Enid's Choice_? Why, how can that be? I thought--"

"We had twelve hundred and eighty dollars at the Saturday matinee and
eleven hundred at night. Of course part of this was due to the knowledge
that it was the last day of the piece, but there is no doubt of its
success."

A choking came to his throat, his eyes grew dim. "I can't believe it.
Such success is impossible to me."

"It is true, and that is the reason I was able to burn _Alessandra_."

"And that is the reason Hugh and Westervelt were so cordial, and I
thought it was all on account of the advance sale of _The Morning_!"

"And this is only the beginning. I intend to play all your plays in a
repertoire, and you're to write me others as I need them. And
finally--and this I hate to acknowledge--you are no longer in my debt."

"That I know is not true," he said. "Everything I am to-night I owe to
you."

"The resplendent author has made the wondrous woman very proud and yet
very humble to-night," she ended, softly, with eyelashes drooping.

"She has reared a giant that seeks to devour her." He caught her to his