possessed with the idea that the play will suit her better than any she
has had yet. Don't you think her looking very tired? I have come to know
her much better these last few weeks, and it seems absurd; but I get
anxious about her. Of course, she is an enormous success, but I fancy the
theatrical part of it has not been quite so great as it was at first.'

'So I hear, too,' said Kendal; 'the theatre is quite as full, but the
temper of the audience a good deal flatter.'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Stuart; 'and then there is that curious little sister of
hers, whom you haven't seen, and who counts for a good deal. I believe
that in reality she is very fond of Isabel, and very proud of her, but
she's very jealous of her too, and she takes her revenge upon her sister
for her beauty and her celebrity by collecting the hostile things people
say about her acting, and pricking them into her every now and then, like
so many pins. At first Isabel was so sure of herself and the public that
she took no notice--it seemed to her only what every actress must expect.
But now it is different. She is not so strong as she was when she came
over, nor so happy, I think, and the criticisms tell more. She is
heartily sick of the _White Lady_, and is bent upon a change, and I
believe she thinks this play of Edward's is just what she wants to enable
her to strengthen her hold upon the public.'

'There never was a greater delusion,' said Kendal; 'it's the last part in
the world she ought to attempt. Properly speaking, unless she puts it in,
there's no posing in it, none of that graceful attitudinising she does so
well. It's a long tragic part--a tremendous strain, and would take all
the powers of the most accomplished art to give it variety and charm.'

'Oh, I know,' sighed Mrs. Stuart, 'I know. But what is to be done?'