g him to go home and get a good warm dinner for his family. She
passed on, and did not observe that, as soon as her back was turned, the
old wretch made straight for the nearest public-house.

But her heart was happy; and her courage rose. It was not for nothing,
then, that she had entertained the bold resolve of casting aside forever
the one great ambition of her life--with all its intoxicating successes,
and hopes, and struggles--for the homely and simple duties of an
ordinary woman's existence. It was not in vain that she had read and
dreamed of the far romantic land, and had ventured to think of herself
as the proud wife of Macleod of Dare. Those fierce deeds of valor and
vengeance that had terrified and thrilled her would now become part of
her own inheritance: why, she could tell her friends, when they came to
see her, of all the old legends and fairy stories that belonged to her
own home. And the part of Lady Bountiful--surely, if she must play some
part that was the one she would most dearly like to play. And the years
would go by; and she would grow silver-haired too; and when she lay on
her deathbed she would take her husband's hand and say, "Have I lived
the life you wished me to live?" Her cheerfulness grew apace; and the
walking, and the sunshine, and the fresh air brought a fine light and
color to her eyes and cheeks. There was a song singing through her head;
and it was all about the brave Glenogie who rode up the king's ha'.

But as she turned the corner of a street, her eye rested on a huge
colored placard--rested but for a moment, for she would not look on the
great, gaudy thing. Just at this time a noble lord had shown his
interest in the British drama by spending an enormous amount of money in
producing, at a theatre of his own building, a spectacular burlesque,
the gorgeousness of which surpassed anything that had ever been done in
that way. And the lady who appeared to be playing (in silence mostly)
the chief part in this hash of glaring color and roaring music and
clashing armor had gained a great celebrity by reason of her handsome
figure, and the splendor of her costume, and the magnificence of the
real diamonds that she wore. All London was talking of her; and the vast
theatre--even in November--was nightly crammed to overflowing. As
Gertrude White walked back to her home her heart was filled with
bitterness. She had caught sight of the ostentatious placard; and she
knew that the photograph of