e in her tone that in itself spoke
strongly for the abilities she could display if occasion offered.

'This is rather an offhand way of treating the subject, madam,' cried
Mr. Peel. 'If you disparage our audiences, I beg you to observe that it
is much the same thing as telling me that my own successes are
worthless!'

'I intended nothing of the kind.'

'Perhaps not.' He thrust his hands into his pockets, and looked down at
his boots for an instant. 'So you are discontented with your part?'

'It's only natural that I should be.'

'I presume you think yourself equal to Juliet, or perhaps Lady Macbeth?'

'I could play either a good deal better than most women do.'

The manager laughed, by no means ill-humouredly.

'I'm sorry I can't bring you out in Shakespeare just at present, Miss
Vale; but--should you think it a condescension to play Laura Denton?'

This was Miss Walcott's part, now Grace Danver's. Clara looked at him
with mistrust; her breath did not come quite naturally.

'How long would it take you, do you think,' pursued the other, 'to get
the words?'

'An hour or two; I all but know them.'

The manager took a few paces this way and that.

'We go on to Bolton to-morrow morning. Could you undertake to be
perfect for the afternoon rehearsal?'

'Yes.'

'Then I'll try you. Here's a copy you can take. I make no terms, you
understand; it's an experiment. We'll have another talk to-morrow.
Good-night.'

She left the room. Near the door stood Grace Danver and another
actress, both of whom were bidden to wait upon the manager before
leaving. Clara passed under the fire of their eyes, but scarcely
observed them.

Rain drenched her between the theatre and her lodgings, for she did not
think of putting up an umbrella; she thought indeed of nothing; there
was fire and tumult in her brain. On the round table in her
sitting-room supper was made ready, but she did not heed it. Excitement
compelled her to walk incessantly round and round the scanty space of
floor. Already she had begun to rehearse the chief scenes of Laura
Denton; she spoke the words with all appropriate loudness and emphasis;
her gestures were those of the stage, as though an audience sat before
her; she seemed to have grown taller. There came a double knock at the
house-door, but it did not attract her attention; a knock at her own
room, and only when some one entered was she recalled to the present.
It was Grace again; her lodging was elsewh