a pretence, and society, which is made up of pretence, will
bitterly resent the mockery."

At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel
the bitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast
descended upon her. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapt in her
own mounting thoughts. She hardly heard anything more, save her
own rumbling blood.

"Come, girls," said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, "let us look after
our things. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished
thief enters."

"Cue," said the prompter, close to her side, but she did not
hear. Already she was moving forward with a steady grace, born
of inspiration. She dawned upon the audience, handsome and
proud, shifting, with the necessity of the situation, to a cold,
white, helpless object, as the social pack moved away from her
scornfully.

Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. The
radiating waves of feeling and sincerity were already breaking
against the farthest walls of the chamber. The magic of passion,
which will yet dissolve the world, was here at work.

There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of feeling,
heretofore wandering.

"Ray! Ray! Why do you not come back to her?" was the cry of
Pearl.