he not come down, or speak, or stir? The
men employed to feed the monstrous machine with wind had all rushed away
together by the back-ladder through which they entered: hence the cause
of the shrieking groan and silence. He was there alone,--for he knew not
that she was there. Oh that he would give some sign!

"In a few minutes a sign was given, but not from him. The princess heard
the grinding of the immense door near the altar; it was opened;
steps entered hurriedly. She heard, next instant, her father's
voice,--impregnated with icy ire, low with smothered hatred, distinct
with the only purpose he ever entertained,--punishment. She flew, with
feet that gave no echo, up the stair on her side of the lobby. Rodomant
was sitting dead-still, with his face in his hands; they looked rigid;
the veins in his forehead, as it showed above his hands, were swollen
and stood out, but colorless as the keys that stretched beneath. His
calmness chilled her blood. She thought him dead, and all within her
that lived seemed to pass out of her in the will, nay, the power also,
to restore him. She grasped his arm. He was not dead, then, for he
sighed,--an awful sigh; it shook him like a light reed in the tempest,
he shuddered from head to foot; he leaned towards her, as if about to
faint, but never removed his close-locked hands from his eyes.... She
had only clasped his arm before; as hand met hand, or touch thrilled
touch, he shivered, his grasping fingers relaxed in their hold on each
other, but closed on hers.... She waited long,--she listened to his
breathing, intermittent with tearless sobs. At last he gasped violently,
a cold tear dropped on her hand, and he thrust it rudely from him.

"'God has taken my punishment into Hiss own hands: yet I defied not Him,
only something made by man, and man himself.' He spoke loudly, yet in
halting words, with gaps of silence between each phrase; then stared
wildly round him, and clapped both his hands upon his ears,--withdrew
them,--closed his ears with his fingers, then dropped his hands, and
cast on her a glance that implored--that demanded--the whole pity of her
heart. 'Have mercy!' were his words; 'I have lost my hearing, and it is
forever!'"

The discrimination of character exercised by Miss Sheppard is very
wonderful. Many as are the figures on her stage, they are never
repeated, and they are all as separate, as finely edged and bevelled,
as gems. The people grow under her pen,--whether