caught sight of a lady who made me forget carpets and pictures. I only saw her in the mirror, for she was standing by the fireplace in the front room. The door was open between. It wasn’t that she was especially pretty, but in her white morning-dress, with the lace about her throat and her hair drawn back from her face, I thought she was the delicatest, softest, finest thing of man or woman kind I ever saw.

“Look there, Susy! look there!” I whispered.

“It is a Mrs. Lloyd from New York. She is here on a visit. That is her husband”; and then she went down into her own gloomy thoughts again.

The husband was a grave, middle-aged man. He had had his paper up before his face, so that I had not seen him before.

“You will go for the tickets, then, Edward?” she said.

“If you make a point of it, yes,” in an annoyed tone. “But I don’t know why you make a point of it. The musical part of the performance is beneath contempt, I understand, and the real attraction is the exhibition of these mountebanks of trapezists, which will be simply disgusting to you. You would not encourage such people at home: why would you do it here?”

“They are not necessarily wicked.” I noticed there was a curious unsteadiness in her voice, as though she was hurt and agitated. I thought perhaps she knew I was there.

“There is very little hope of any redeeming qualities in men who make a trade of twisting their bodies like apes,” he said. “Contortionists and ballet-dancers and clowns and harlequins—” he rattled all the names over with a good deal of uncalled-for sharpness, I thought, calling them “dissolute and degraded, the very offal of humanity.” I could not understand his heat until he added, “I never could comprehend your interest and sympathy for that especial class, Ellinor.”

“No, you could not, Edward,” she said quietly. “But I have it. I have never seen an exhibition of the kind. But I want to see this to-night, if you will gratify me. I have no reason,” she added when he looked at her curiously. “The desire is unaccountable to myself.”

The straightforward look of her blue eyes as she met his seemed strangely familiar and friendly to me.

At that moment Susy stood up to go. Her cheeks were burning and her eyes sparkling. “Dissolute and degraded!” she said again and again when we were outside. But I took no notice.

As we reached the house she stopped me when I turned off to go to rehearsal. “You’ll get seats for grandmother and me, Mr. Balacchi?” she said.

“You’re going, then, Susy?”

“Yes, I’m going.”

Now the house in which we performed was a queer structure. A stock company, thinking there was a field for a theatre in the town, had taken a four-storey building, gutted the interior, and fitted it up with tiers of seats and scenery. The stock company was starved out, however, and left the town, and the theatre was used as a gymnasium, a concert-room or a church by turns. Its peculiarity was, that it was both exceedingly lofty and narrow, which suited our purpose exactly.

It was packed that night from dome to pit. George and I had rehearsed our new act both morning and afternoon, South watching us without intermission. South was terribly nervous and anxious, half disposed, at the last minute, to forbid it, although it had been announced on the bills for a week. But a feat which is successful in an empty house, with but one spectator, when your nerves are quiet and blood cool, is a different thing before an excited, terrified, noisy audience, your whole body at fever heat. However,