e was hard. Charmian scarcely recognized it.

"Then you'll have to go behind the scenes."

"Yes."

"Will you--"

"I'll wait till the curtain goes up, and then slip out."

Again there was a silence. Charmian broke it at length by saying:

"I think Monsieur Gillier might have come to see us to-night. It would
have been natural if he had visited our box."

"Perhaps he will come presently."

A bell sounded. The third act was about to begin.

Soon after the curtains had once more parted, disclosing a marvellous
desert scene which drew loud applause from the audience, Claude got up
softly from his seat.

"I'll slip away now," he whispered.

She felt for his hand in the dimness, found it, squeezed it. She longed
to get up, to put her lips to his, to breath some word--she knew not the
word it would be--of encouragement, of affection. Tears rushed into her
eyes as she felt the touch of his flesh. As the door shut behind him she
moved quite to the back of the box and put her handkerchief to her
eyes. She had great difficulty just then in not letting the tears run
over her face. For several minutes she scarcely heard the music or knew
what was happening upon the stage. There was a tumult of feeling within
her which she did not at all fully understand, perhaps because even now
she was fighting, fighting blindly, desperately, but with courage.

There came a tap at the door. Charmian did not hear it. In a moment it
was softly repeated. This time she did hear it. And she hastily pressed
her handkerchief first against one eye, then against the other, got up
and opened the door.

"May I come in for a little while?" came a calm whisper from Susan
Fleet, who stood without in a very plain black gown with long white
gloves over her hands and arms.

"Oh, Susan--yes! I am all alone."

"That is why I came."

"How did you know?"

"My friend, Mr. Melton, happened to be in the corridor with Mr. Ramer
and they saw your husband pass. Mr. Ramer spoke to him and he said he
was going behind the scenes. So I thought I would come for a minute."

She stepped gently in and closed the door quietly.

"Where were you sitting?" she whispered.

"Here, at the back. Sit by me--oh, wait! Let me move Alston's flowers."

She took them up. As she did so she remembered Madre's cablegram, and
looked for it. But it was no longer there. She searched quickly on the
floor.

"What is it?" said Susan.

"Only a cablegram from Madre that was with