Her next song was encored, and she came off flushed with art and
gratified pride. "I have no fears now," said she, to her Achates, firmly.
"I have my barometer; a young lady in the stalls. Oh, such a beautiful
creature, with black hair and eyes! She applauds me fearlessly. Her
glorious eyes speak to mine, and inspire me. She is _happy,_ she is. I
drink sunbeams at her. I shall act and sing 'Le Parlate d'Amor' for
_her_--and you will see."





Between the acts, who should come in but Ned Severne, and glided into the
vacant stall by Zoe's side.

She quivered at his coming near her; he saw it, and felt a thrill of
pleasure himself.

"How is 'S. T.'?" said she, kindly.

"'S. T.'?" said he, forgetting.

"Why, your sick friend, to be sure."

"Oh, not half so bad as he thought. I was a fool to lose an hour of you
for _him._ He was hipped; had lost all his money at _rouge et noir._ So I
lent him fifty pounds, and that did him more good than the doctor. You
forgive me?"