"Yes, yes. They were school-mates. She is beautiful, and you shall meet
her after the concert."

The "Opera House" was crowded, the front rows seating the leading men of
the community and their richly clad wives and daughters. In the back
rows, seated on benches and around the side walls were, the roughly
dressed miners and the usual flotsam of a mining town. The singer was
not of the hurdy-gurdy type so common in those days, but a "lady,"
young, lovely and accomplished. Her ballads were greeted with the
greatest enthusiasm, and soon the stage began to be showered with gold.
The miners brought her back again and again, calling the names of songs
they wished to hear. Hundreds of dollars of gold were tossed up to her,
whilst she smilingly complied with all their requests.

"One more," they shouted, "only one more, and her slippers shall be
filled with gold dust." She slipped out of her little sandals and stood,
blushing modestly, hiding her silken feet under her long, wide skirts.

"You are very kind to a lonely stranger," she called, to an instantly
silenced audience, "and I will sing for you a song which has but lately
come from London. 'Tis from a new opera called the Bohemian Girl,
composed by Master Balfe," and folding her little hands before her, she
sang sweetly, "Then You'll Remember Me."

"When other lips and other hearts their tales of love shall tell
Of days that have as happy been, and you'll remember - you'll remember
me."

"Dick, why do you cover your eyes? You are surely not asleep?"