THE WAY OF THE HEART

Anna Royanna was very tired, and she was sitting in an old easy chair
waiting for the manager to come to take her to the hotel. She leaned
back in a listless manner, with her inclined head leaning upon her
right hand. It was a small hand, and very white. Her dark hair partly
shrouded her face of singular beauty and sweetness. But lines of care
were plainly visible, and as she waited there this night those lines
deepened. She was much depressed, notwithstanding the reception she
had received from the crowded house. She had been told that she was
expected to sing at the matinee on the morrow, and this was not at all
to her liking. She had been planning something of a far different
nature. She had engagements for weeks ahead, and she had only come to
St. John when asked to do so that she might carry out an idea which had
long been in her mind. But now this must be abandoned for the present
if she consented to sing at the matinee, as she must leave the city
early the next morning.

While she was thinking over these things, the door softly opened, and
John Markham entered.

"Are you ready to go?" she enquired.

"You are very tired," was the reply, "and it is no wonder. But you
made a great hit to-night, and I have been almost swamped with requests
from visitors who wish to see you. Some were determined to enter,
especially women, and I had to be very firm, in fact almost rude."

"You were quite right, Mr. Markham," and the woman lifted her eyes to
his face. "I have no desire to see such people. I know them only too