h, Mr. Vanstone not only gave Magdalen
permission to assist the forlorn dramatic company, but accepted an
invitation to witness the performance for Norah and himself. Mrs.
Vanstone declined accompanying them on account of her health; and Miss
Garth only engaged to make one among the audience conditionally on not
being wanted at home. The "parts" of "Lucy" and "Falkland" (which the
distressed family carried about with them everywhere, like incidental
maladies) were handed to their representatives on the spot. Frank's
faint remonstrances were rejected without a hearing; the days and hours
of rehearsal were carefully noted down on the covers of the parts;
and the Marrables took their leave, with a perfect explosion of
thanks--father, mother, and daughter sowing their expressions of
gratitude broadcast, from the drawing-room door to the garden-gates.

As soon as the carriage had driven away, Magdalen presented herself to
the general observation under an entirely new aspect.

"If any more visitors call to-day," she said, with the profoundest
gravity of look and manner, "I am not at home. This is a far more
serious matter than any of you suppose. Go somewhere by yourself, Frank,
and read over your part, and don't let your attention wander if you can
possibly help it. I shall not be accessible before the evening. If
you will come here--with papa's permission--after tea, my views on the
subject of Falkland will be at your disposal. Thomas! whatever else
the gardener does, he is not to make any floricultural noises under my
window. For the rest of the afternoon I shall be immersed in study--and
the quieter the house is, the more obliged I shall feel to everybody."

Before Miss Garth's battery of reproof could open fire, before the first
outburst of Mr. Vanstone's hearty laughter could escape his lips, she
bowed to them with imperturbable gravity; ascended the house-steps, for
the first time in her life, at a walk instead of a run, and retired then
and there to the bedroom regions. Frank's helpless astonishment at her
disappearance added a new element of absurdity to the scene. He stood
first on one leg and then on the other; rolling and unrolling his part,
and looking piteously in the faces of the friends about him. "I know
I can't do it," he said. "May I come in after tea, and hear Magdalen's
views? Thank you--I'll look in about eight. Don't tell my father about
this acting, please; I should never hear the last of it." Those w