uttered the last word, and Octavia leaned upon her knee with an
affectionate glance, Treherne leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the
two changed faces, and looked as if bewildered when both smiled at him,
as they sat hand in hand while the girl told her story.

"Long ago a famous actress suddenly dropped dead at the close of a
splendidly played tragedy. She was carried home, and preparations were
made to bury her. The play had been gotten up with great care and
expense, and a fine actor was the hero. The public demanded a
repetition, and an inferior person was engaged to take the dead lady's
part. A day's delay had been necessary, but when the night came the
house was crowded. They waited both before and behind the curtain for
the debut of the new actress, with much curiosity. She stood waiting for
her cue, but as it was given, to the amazement of all, the great
tragedienne glided upon the stage. Pale as marble, and with a strange
fire in her eyes, strange pathos in her voice, strange power in her
acting, she went through her part, and at the close vanished as
mysteriously as she came. Great was the excitement that night, and
intense the astonishment and horror next day when it was whispered
abroad that the dead woman never had revived, but had lain in her coffin
before the eyes of watchers all the evening, when hundreds fancied they
were applauding her at the theater. The mystery never was cleared up,
and Paris was divided by two opinions: one that some person marvelously
like Madame Z. had personated her for the sake of a sensation; the other
that the ghost of the dead actress, unable to free itself from the old
duties so full of fascination to an ambitious and successful woman, had
played for the last time the part which had made her famous."

"Where did you find that, Tavie? It's very French, and not bad if you
invented it," said Sir Jasper.