ed by a woman of forty-five, who looked about
thirty-eight, who, but for the fixed, immovable colour in her cheeks and
her somewhat too large and too numerous diamonds, might from her black
silk, rich dark furs, and her dignified bearing have passed for an
honest woman.

She watched the first act with a somewhat supercilious manner, but the
second act found her wiping her eyes--very cautiously; there was that
unvarying colour to think of. The third act found her well back in the
shadow of the box curtain, and the last act she watched with a face of
such fixed determination as to attract the wondering comment of several
of the actors.

When the curtain fell, one of them remarked, "I'd like to know what that
woman will do in the next few hours?"

This is what she did. Keeping back till the house was nearly empty, she
left the theatre alone. Then she engaged a carriage--of which there were
very, very few in that city of the mountains, where the people did most
of their going and coming on horseback--and had herself conveyed to her
home, ablaze with light and full of laughter; and bidding the driver
wait, she entered quietly and went swiftly to her own apartment, where a
man in slippers and dressing-gown sat in a big armchair, sleeping over
the evening paper.

She lost no time, but aroused him at once, shaking him by the shoulder,
and in cold, curt tones ordered him "to rise and dress for the street,
and to go with her."

[Illustration: _Clara Morris in the 1st Act of "Camille"_]

But he objected, asking: "Why the deuce he should go out that bitter
night? And was she a fool, or did she take him for one?"

Upon which she had so savagely ordered him "to get on his boots, his
coat, and overcoat" that the sleepiness had vanished from his sharp
eyes, and he had exclaimed, "What is it, Kate? what's happened to you?"

And she answered: "I've had a blow--no, don't reach for your gun. I
don't mean that--but, Jim, it hurts. (Here, let me tie that for you.)
I've had a blow straight at the heart, and a woman gave it--God bless
her! (Can't you brush your hair up over that thin place? Jim--why, Jim,
upon my soul, you're grey!) Oh, hurry! here, take your fur coat--you'll
need it. Come now--no, I won't tell till we're outside this house.
Come--on the quiet, now--come," and taking him by the arm she dragged
him down the hall and stairs, and so outside the front door.

There she stopped. The man shivered at the cold, but kept his g