l trilled; "gaping" was pronounced with
an anaconda-look, as though she were about to swallow the theatre,
audience and all; and, as she spoke the line, "When, over fighting
Fields they beat their wings," she raised her arms and shoulders in
imitation of some barn-yard fowl vainly essaying flight and swept across
the room, the picture of grace in ungracefulness.

"'Tis monstrous!" exclaimed Hart, bitterly, as he realized the travesty.
"You cannot act and never could. I was a fool to engage you."

Nell was back by the vase, toying with the flowers. "London applauds my
acting," she suggested, indifferently.

"London applauds the face and figure; not the art," replied Hart.

"London is wise; for the art is in the face and figure, Master Jack. You
told me so yourself," she added, sharply, pointing her finger at her
adversary in quick condemnation. She turned away triumphant.

"I was a fool like the rest," replied Hart, visibly irritated that he
could not get the better of the argument.

"Come, don't be angry," said Nell. Her manner had changed; for her heart
had made her fearful lest her tongue had been unkind. "Mayhap Almahyde
is the last part Nell will ever play." She looked thoughtfully into the
bunch of roses. Did she see a prophecy there?

He approached the table where she stood. "Your head is turned by the
flowers," he said, bitterly. "An honest motive, no doubt, prompted the
royal gift."

Nell turned sharply upon him. Her lips trembled, but one word only came
to them--"Jack!"

Hart's eyes fell under the rebuke; for he knew that only anger prompted
what he had said. He would have struck another for the same words.

"Pardon, Nell," he said, softly. "My heart rebukes my tongue. I love
you!"

Nell stepped back to the mirror, contemplating herself, bedecked as she
was with the flowers. In an instant she forgot all, and replied
playfully to Hart's confession of love: "Of course, you do. How could
you help it? So do others."

"I love you better than the rest," he added, vehemently, "better than my
life." He tried to put his arms about her.

Nell, however, was by him like a flash.

"Not so fast, dear sir," she said, coyly; and she tiptoed across the
room and ensconced herself high in the throne-chair.

Hart followed and knelt below her, adoring.

"Admit that I can act--a little--just a little--dear Hart, or tell me no
more of love." She spoke with the half-amused, half-indifferent air of a
beautiful princ