t, though the shilling gallery is hot, and close,
and dark, there is in all the room no better place for hearing the great
waves of sound rolled out by the orchestra from the Master's mighty
scores. And it was for this reason that Lettice Campion came up the
narrow stairs that afternoon at ten minutes to three, and found, as she
might have expected, that only a few seats against the wall remained
empty. Into the nearest of these she dropped, rather exhausted by her
climb and the haste that she had made; and then she noticed, as her eyes
became accustomed to the dim light, that some one beside her had half
turned round, and was looking earnestly into her face.

"Alan!"

The color sprang into Lettice's face: the roll of music that she carried
dropped from her lap as she held out her hand. Alan returned her
greeting, and then dived for her music, thus giving her a moment in
which to recover her self-possession. When he came up again, she was
still a little flushed, but she was smiling tranquilly.

"I am so glad to see you," she said simply.

"I don't know what impelled me to come this afternoon. I never thought
that I should have this happiness." Then in a lower tone, "You don't
mind my being here? You don't want me to go away?"

"No, no, why should I? It does not matter--here."

They had not seen each other at all for weeks, and had met only two or
three times, and then for a few minutes only, since Alan left Bute Lodge
in December. They corresponded freely and frankly, but Lettice had
decreed, in spite of some murmurs from Alan, that they should not meet.
Scandal had been busy with her name, and, until Alan obtained his
divorce, it seemed better to her to live a very retired life, seeing
almost nobody, and especially guarding herself against accusations of
any close association with Alan Walcott.

"I had just posted a letter to you before I came out," he said. They
were at the end of the last row of seats and could talk, before the
music began, without any fear of being overheard. "It is as I expected,
Lettice. There are great difficulties in our way."

She looked an interrogation.

"The length of time that has elapsed is an obstacle. We cannot find any
proof of worse things than drunkenness and brawling during the last year
or two. And of the events before that time, when I know that she was
untrue to me, we scarcely see how to obtain absolute proof. You must
forgive me for mentioning these things to you, but