areness of existing,
with only the cognizance of the present time-point on the flowingness
of his consciousness.

The tuning of instruments began just then, and the rasping sound tore
at him, dragging him back to a consciousness of externals. Then, as
his eyes rested again on the stalls, he drew right back instinctively
into the shadow of his box. For he had caught sight of Lady Thiselton.

She was in the fourth row from the orchestra and by her side he
recognised Mrs. Blackstone. They could only have just entered, for he
was sure those two seats had been empty but the moment before. He felt
tolerably certain Helen had not yet seen him, and he intended to
take care she should not see him. Yet he had an intuition that she
knew all.

In his altered position in the box he was fairly safe from recognition
by her, even whilst he could watch her closely, noting the quick,
eager glances she cast about her from time to time as if she thought
it possible he might be seated amid the audience. Eventually, however,
she lapsed into a sort of listless immobility.

And even though he shrank from her, her advent brought back to him a
yearning wistfulness; it awakened and half-appeased a sense akin to
home-sickness. In that moment he would have liked to fly to her--how
much had she stood for in his life! She symbolized for him all that of
humanness which is comprised in the word "comradeship;" she
represented the truth, attachment and loyalty in human relations even
as Margaret represented the perfume, the sweetness, and the
perfection.

The rise of the curtain forced him to take his eyes off her. The
background of the scene on the stage was apparently the pillared
exterior of a palace, yet the foreground was a carpeted space in which
a many-coloured medley of yataghaned men with baggy breeches and
beautiful slave-girls in Oriental costumes kept re-forming in
ever-shifting kaleidoscopic grouping. And then the audience suddenly
were aware that the medley had divided into two harmonious
sub-medleys, whilst, in the chasm left towards the front, Cleo stood
majestically and addressed a verbose harangue to the Basha, her
relation to whom was known from the title of the play. In full view
and hearing of so heterogeneous a crowd did the Basha in return
reproach her with coldness and indifference to him, which she
vehemently denied, playing the _femme incomprise_ and by her perfect
self-assurance cloaking an intrigue, which Morgan knew sh