ent, if you please, Miss Farnum," he said softly. "Believe me, I
regret to trouble you, but something very important has arisen. Mr.
Gordon wants to speak to you here."

Martha turned toward him in surprise. "Mr. Gordon?" she repeated. "How
absurd! I can't see any one now."

"He's very insistent, Miss Farnum."

"Then tell him, after the play," replied Martha. "He must know the
curtain is just about to rise on the first act."

"He knows that," responded Weldon, sincerely sorry at the awkward
predicament in which he saw things were becoming involved. "I know that,
but please, for my sake, see him, if only for a few moments."

"That's a strange request," pondered Martha. "But if you really want it,
Mr. Weldon, of course I will comply. You have done so much for me that
indeed I ought to."

"I will send him here at once," said Weldon, quickly, and disappeared
through the boxes.

"Gordon?" said Martha, wonderingly to herself. Then to her maid:
"Lizzie, go and watch for my entrance."

CHAPTER XIII

BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE

Gordon stopped short before Martha, involuntarily impressed at the
pleasing picture she made, clad in her simple but effective first-act
dress, as she half kneeled on the ottoman in the center of the
green-room, repeating to herself the lines from her part, which she held
in her hand and at which she occasionally glanced to refresh her memory.

"You are indeed beautiful to-night," he half whispered, approaching her
closer. Martha turned toward him coldly.

"Did you force yourself upon me this way just to utter such a
commonplace remark as that?" she asked.

"Force myself?" repeated Gordon, half indignantly.

"Yes. You know that I am nervous and excited over this performance
to-night. In a few moments I will have to face an unsympathetic
audience, ready to laugh if I score a failure, reluctant to concede
success. At such a time, how can you imagine I want to talk to any one?
All my strength and energy are needed for this conflict to-night, and it
was unkind of you to insist upon coming here at this moment."

Gordon drew a chair near the ottoman and motioned for her to be seated.
Martha reluctantly sat beside him, her thoughts far away, her ears
listening intently for the curtain music to indicate the beginning of
the first act.

"If you had refused to see me just now," said Gordon, quietly but
incisively, "the curtain would never have risen to-night. In fact, I am
not sure now tha