udrey, with a little catch of
her breath, returned the curtsy. Both women were richly dressed, both were
beautiful; it seemed a ceremonious meeting of two ladies of quality. The
gentlemen also bowed profoundly, pressing their hats against their hearts.
Mistress Stagg, to whom her protegee's aversion to company was no light
cross, twitched her Mirabell by the sleeve and, hanging upon his arm,
prevented his further advance. The action said: "Let the child alone;
maybe when the ice is once broken she'll see people, and not be so shy and
strange!"

"Mr. Lee," said Evelyn sweetly, "I have dropped my glove,--perhaps in the
summer-house on the terrace. If you will be so good? Mr. Grymes, will you
desire Mr. Stagg yonder to shortly visit me at my lodging? I wish to
bespeak a play, and would confer with him on the matter."

The gentlemen bowed and hasted upon their several errands, leaving Audrey
and Evelyn standing face to face in the sunny path. "You are well, I
hope," said the latter, in her low, clear voice, "and happy?"

"I am well, Mistress Evelyn," answered Audrey. "I think that I am not
unhappy."

The other gazed at her in silence; then, "We have all been blind," she
said. "'Tis not a year since May Day and the Jaquelins' merrymaking. It
seems much longer. You won the race,--do you remember?--and took the prize
from my hand. And neither of us thought of all that should follow--did
we?--or guessed at other days. I saw you last night at the theatre, and
you made my heart like to burst for pity and sorrow. You were only playing
at woe? You are not unhappy, not like that?"

Audrey shook her head. "No, not like that."

There was a pause, broken by Evelyn. "Mr. Haward is in town," she said, in
a low but unfaltering voice, "He was at the playhouse last night. I
watched him sitting in a box, in the shadow.... You also saw him?"

"Yes," said Audrey. "He had not been there for a long, long time. At first
he came night after night.... I wrote to him at last and told him how he
troubled me,--made me forget my lines,--and then he came no more."

There was in her tone a strange wistfulness. Evelyn drew her breath
sharply, glanced swiftly at the dark face and liquid eyes. Mr. Grymes yet
held the manager and his wife in conversation, but Mr. Lee, a small
jessamine-scented glove in hand, was hurrying toward them from the
summer-house.

"You think that you do not love Mr. Haward?" said Evelyn, in a low voice.

"I loved one that