t the piano; the
instrument being opposite to the door, it was impossible, when she
seated herself on the music-stool, for any person entering the room to
see her face. Henry called out irritably, 'Come in.'

The door was not opened. The person on the other side of it asked a
strange question.

'Is Mr. Henry Westwick alone?'

Agnes instantly recognised the voice of the Countess. She hurried to a
second door, which communicated with one of the bedrooms. 'Don't let
her come near me!' she whispered nervously. 'Good night, Henry! good
night!'

If Henry could, by an effort of will, have transported the Countess to
the uttermost ends of the earth, he would have made the effort without
remorse. As it was, he only repeated, more irritably than ever, 'Come
in!'

She entered the room slowly with her everlasting manuscript in her
hand. Her step was unsteady; a dark flush appeared on her face, in
place of its customary pallor; her eyes were bloodshot and widely
dilated. In approaching Henry, she showed a strange incapability of
calculating her distances--she struck against the table near which he
happened to be sitting. When she spoke, her articulation was confused,
and her pronunciation of some of the longer words was hardly
intelligible. Most men would have suspected her of being under the
influence of some intoxicating liquor. Henry took a truer view--he
said, as he placed a chair for her, 'Countess, I am afraid you have
been working too hard: you look as if you wanted rest.'

She put her hand to her head. 'My invention has gone,' she said. 'I
can't write my fourth act. It's all a blank--all a blank!'

Henry advised her to wait till the next day. 'Go to bed,' he
suggested; and try to sleep.'

She waved her hand impatiently. 'I must finish the play,' she
answered. 'I only want a hint from you. You must know something about
plays. Your brother has got a theatre. You must often have heard him
talk about fourth and fifth acts--you must have seen rehearsals, and
all the rest of it.' She abruptly thrust the manuscript into Henry's
hand. 'I can't read it to you,' she said; 'I feel giddy when I look at
my own writing. Just run your eye over it, there's a good fellow--and
give me a hint.'

Henry glanced at the manuscript. He happened to look at the list of
the persons of the drama. As he read the list he started and turned
abruptly to the Countess, intending to ask her for some explanation.
The words were suspended on his li