that we carried out our new resolution.

I think that from the moment I took my seat I was conscious in some
mysterious way of the coming of great things. There was a thrill of
excitement in the air, a sort of stifled electricity which one realizes
often amongst a highly cultured audience awaiting the production of a
great work. But apart from this sensation of which I was fully
conscious, I felt a curious sense of nervousness stealing in upon me for
which I could in no way account. I knew what it meant only when, amidst
a storm of cheers, Feurgeres entered. Then indeed I knew.

I kept silent, for which I was thankful, but the programme in my hand
was crumpled into a little ball, and the figures upon the stage moved as
though in a mist before my eyes. Isobel noticed nothing, for her whole
breathless attention was riveted upon the play. I came to myself with
the rich sweet voice of the man, so tender, so infinitely pathetic,
ringing with a curious familiarity in my ears. From that moment I
followed the movement of the play.

The curtain went down upon the first act amidst a silence so intense
that it seemed as though people might be listening still for the echoes
of that sad, sweet voice which had been playing so effectively upon
their heartstrings. Then came the storm of applause, which lasted for
several minutes. I turned towards Isobel. She was sitting very still,
and she did not join in the enthusiasm which seemed to find its way
straight from the hearts of the men and women who sat about us. But her
eyes were wet with tears, her lips a little parted. She gazed at the man
whom incessant calls had brought at last a little wearily before the
curtain, as one might look at a god. And their eyes met. He did not
start or betray himself in any way--perhaps his training befriended him
there, but as he left the stage he staggered, and I saw his hand go to
clutch the curtain for support. I knew then that, before the night was
over, Isobel's history would no longer be a secret to us.

She turned to me with a little smile of apology. There was a new look in
her face too. She spoke gravely.

"Was I very stupid? I am sorry, but I could not help it. I have never
seen anything like this before. It is wonderful!"

We talked quietly of the play, and I was astonished at the keenness of
her perceptions, the unerring ease with which she had realized and
appreciated the self-abnegation which was the great underlying _motif_
of the w