caravan now.'

But Rosalie's mother shook her head mournfully.

About half-way through the next play there came a long piece which Rosalie
had to recite alone, the piece which her father had been teaching her
during the last week. She was just half-way through it, when, suddenly, her
eyes fell on her mother, who was standing at the opposite side of the stage
in a tragical position. All the colour had gone from her face, and it
seemed to Rosalie that each moment her face was growing whiter and more
deathlike. She quite forgot the words she was saying, all remembrance of
them faded from her mind. She came to a sudden stop. Her father's
promptings were all in vain, she could hear nothing he said, she could see
nothing but her mother's sorrowful and ghastly face.

And then her mother fell, and some of the actors carried her from the room.
Rosalie rushed forward to follow her, and the noise in the theatre became
deafening. But she was stopped on the stairs by her father, who blamed her
most cruelly for breaking down in her part, and ordered her to return
immediately and finish, accompanying his command with most awful
threatenings if she refused to obey.

Poor little Rosalie went on with her recital, trembling in every limb. Her
mother's place was taken by another actor, and the play went on as before.
But Rosalie's heart was not there. It was filled with a terrible, sickening
dread. What had become of her mother? Who was with her? Were they taking
care of her? And then a horrible fear came over her lest her mother should
be dead--lest when she went into the caravan again she should only see her
mother's body stretched upon the bed--lest she should never, never hear her
mother speak to her again.