the voice belonged naturally to such a face. "Good people, let me
pass--I am Sarah Siddons."

The crowd divided instantaneously, and in moving set up a cheer that
must have rang through all the town. There was a minute's pause,
while she bowed and smiled--such a smile!--and then the sedan curtain
closed.

"Now's the time--only hold fast to me!" whispered John, as he sprang
forward, dragging me after him. In another second he had caught up
the pole dropped by the man who was hurt; and before I well knew what
we were about we both stood safe inside the entrance of the theatre.

Mrs. Siddons stepped out, and turned to pay her bearers--a most
simple action--but so elevated in the doing that even it, I thought,
could not bring her to the level of common humanity. The tall,
cloaked, and hooded figure, and the tones that issued thence, made
her, even in that narrow passage, under the one flaring
tallow-candle, a veritable Queen of tragedy--at least so she seemed
to us two.

The one man was paid--over-paid, apparently, from his thankfulness--
and she turned to John Halifax.

"I regret, young man, that you should have had so much trouble. Here
is some requital."

He took the money, selected from it one silver coin, and returned the
rest.