nsciously or not, spoke to him also of reproach. The
curtain descended, and her hands fell to her side. It was the end, and
it was failure!

Matravers, making his way more hurriedly than usual from the house,
hoped to gain another glimpse of the man who had remained the solitary
tenant of the round of empty seats. But he was too late. The man and
the audience had melted away in a thin little stream. Matravers stood
on the kerbstone hesitating. He had not meant to go behind to-night.
He had a feeling that she must be regarding him at that moment as the
executioner of her ambitions. Besides, she was going on to a
reception; she would only be in a hurry. Nevertheless, he made his way
round to the stage door. He would at least have a glimpse of her. But
as he turned the corner, she was already stepping into her carriage.
He paused, and simultaneously with her disappearance he realized that
he was not the only one who had found his way to the narrow street to
see the last of Berenice. A man was standing upon the opposite
pavement a little way from the carriage, yet at such an angle that a
faint, yellow light shone upon what was visible of his pale face. He
had watched her come out, and was gazing now fixedly at the window of
her brougham. Matravers knew in a moment that this was the man whom he
had seen sitting alone in the amphitheatre; and almost without any
definite idea as to his purpose, he crossed the street towards him.
The man, hearing his footstep, looked up with a sudden start; then,
without a second's hesitation, he turned and hurried off. Matravers
still followed him. The man heard his footsteps, and turned round,
then, with a little moan, he started running, his shoulders bent, his
head forward. Matravers halted at once. The man plunged into the
shadows, and was lost amongst the stream of people pouring forth from
the doors of the Strand theatres.

At her door an hour later Berenice saw the outline of a figure now
become very familiar to her, and Matravers, who had been leaving a box
of roses, whose creamy pink-and-white blossoms, mingled together in a
neighbouring flower-shop, had pleased his fancy, heard his name called
softly across the pavement. He turned, and saw Berenice stepping from
her carriage. With an old-fashioned courtesy, which always sat well
upon him, he offered her his arm.

[Illustration: With an old-fashioned courtesy ... he offered her his
arm]

"I thought that you were to be late," he s