he had won two incontestable triumphs in her first
scene. By a dexterous piece of mimicry, she had made a living reality
of one of the most insipid characters in the English drama; and she
had roused to enthusiasm an audience of two hundred exiles from the
blessings of ventilation, all simmering together in their own animal
heat. Under the circumstances, where is the actress by profession who
could have done much more?

But the event of the evening was still to come. Magdalen's disguised
re-appearance at the end of the act, in the character of "Lucy"--with
false hair and false eyebrows, with a bright-red complexion and patches
on her cheeks, with the gayest colors flaunting in her dress, and the
shrillest vivacity of voice and manner--fairly staggered the audience.
They looked down at their programmes, in which the representative
of Lucy figured under an assumed name; looked up again at the stage;
penetrated the disguise; and vented their astonishment in another round
of applause, louder and heartier even than the last. Norah herself
could not deny this time that the tribute of approbation had been well
deserved. There, forcing its way steadily through all the faults of
inexperience--there, plainly visible to the dullest of the spectators,
was the rare faculty of dramatic impersonation, expressing itself in
every look and action of this girl of eighteen, who now stood on a stage
for the first time in her life. Failing in many minor requisites of the
double task which she had undertaken, she succeeded in the one important
necessity of keeping the main distinctions of the two characters
thoroughly apart. Everybody felt that the difficulty lay here--everybody
saw the difficulty conquered--everybody echoed the manager's enthusiasm
at rehearsal, which had hailed her as a born actress.

When the drop-scene descended for the first time, Magdalen had
concentrated in herself the whole interest and attraction of the play.
The audience politely applauded Miss Marrable, as became the guests
assembled in her father's house: and good-humoredly encouraged the
remainder of the company, to help them through a task for which they
were all, more or less, palpably unfit. But, as the play proceeded,
nothing roused them to any genuine expression of interest when Magdalen
was absent from the scene. There was no disguising it: Miss Marrable and
her bosom friends had been all hopelessly cast in the shade by the
new recruit whom they had summon