was at the stage-door, and had sent
in my card to "Mademoiselle Fontenay." While I was waiting, I had time
to think. Was it possible that Jeanne had gone on the stage? Or were
there two singing-masters in existence named Bonnefoy? My doubts were
soon decided. The French woman-servant whom I remembered when I was
Monsieur Bonnefoy's pupil, made her appearance, and conducted me to her
young mistress's dressing-room. Dear good Jeanne, how glad she was to
see me!

I found her standing before the glass, having just completed her
preparations for appearing on the stage. Dressed in her picturesque
costume, she was so charming that I expressed my admiration heartily,
as became her old friend. "Do you really like me?" she said, with the
innocent familiarity which I recollected so well. "See how I look in
the glass--that is the great test." It was not easy to apply the test.
Instead of looking at her image in the glass, it was far more agreeable
to look at herself. We were interrupted--too soon interrupted--by the
call-boy. He knocked at the door, and announced that the overture had
begun.

"I have a thousand things to ask you," I told her. "What has made this
wonderful change in your life? How is it that I don't see your father--"

Her face instantly saddened; her hand trembled as she laid it on my arm
to silence me.

"Don't speak of him now," she said, "or you will unnerve me. Come to me
to-morrow when the stage will not be waiting; Annette will give you my
address." She opened the door to go out, and returned. "Will you
think me very unreasonable if I ask you not to make one of my audience
to-night? You have reminded me of the dear old days that can never come
again. If I feel that I am singing to _you_--" She left me to understand
the rest, and turned away again to the door. As I followed her out, to
say good-by, she drew from her bosom the little brooch which had been my
parting gift, and held it out to me. "On the stage, or off," she said,
"I always wear it. Good-night, Ernest."

I was prepared to hear sad news when we met the next morning.

My good old friend and master had died suddenly. To add to the
bitterness of that affliction, he had died in debt to a dear and
intimate friend. For his daughter's sake he had endeavored to add to his
little savings by speculating with borrowed money on the Stock Exchange.
He had failed, and the loan advanced had not been repaid, when a fit of
apoplexy struck him down. Offered th