n be very happy with him," went on the little actress.
"Her sunny temper, her joyous face will brighten any home."

She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. There was so much
simplicity in her movements that she seemed wholly alone. Then she found
a seat by a table, and turned over some books, devoting a thought to
them.

"With no longings for what I may not have," she breathed in
conclusion--and it was almost a sigh--"my existence hidden from all save
two in the wide world, and making my joy out of the joy of that innocent
girl who will soon be his wife."

Hurstwood was sorry when a character, known as Peach Blossom,
interrupted her. He stirred irritably, for he wished her to go on. He
was charmed by the pale face, the lissome figure, draped in pearl grey,
with a coiled string of pearls at the throat. Carrie had the air of
one who was weary and in need of protection, and, under the fascinating
make-believe of the moment, he rose in feeling until he was ready in
spirit to go to her and ease her out of her misery by adding to his own
delight.

In a moment Carrie was alone again, and was saying, with animation:

"I must return to the city, no matter what dangers may lurk here. I must
go, secretly if I can; openly, if I must."

There was a sound of horses' hoofs outside, and then Ray's voice saying:
"No, I shall not ride again. Put him up."

He entered, and then began a scene which had as much to do with the
creation of the tragedy of affection in Hurstwood as anything in his
peculiar and involved career. For Carrie had resolved to make something
of this scene, and, now that the cue had come, it began to take a
feeling hold upon her. Both Hurstwood and Drouet noted the rising
sentiment as she proceeded.

"I thought you had gone with Pearl," she said to her lover.

"I did go part of the way, but I left the Party a mile down the road."

"You and Pearl had no disagreement?"

"No--yes; that is, we always have. Our social barometers always stand at
'cloudy' and 'overcast.'"

"And whose fault is that?" she said, easily.

"Not mine," he answered, pettishly. "I know I do all I can--I say all I
can--but she----"

This was rather awkwardly put by Patton, but Carrie redeemed it with a
grace which was inspiring.

"But she is your wife," she said, fixing her whole attention upon the
stilled actor, and softening the quality of her voice until it was again
low and musical. "Ray, my friend, courtship is the