ished, to be rewarded with the hand of Red Dick and the discovery
of her father, the governor of New Mexico, as a white-haired, but
objectionable vacquero, at the fall of the curtain.

Through this exciting performance Phoebe sat with a vague and increasing
sense of loneliness and distrust. She did not know that Hooker had added
to his ordinary inventive exaggeration the form of dramatic composition.
But she had early detected the singular fact that such shadowy outlines
of plot as the piece possessed were evidently based on his previous
narrative of his OWN experiences, and the saving of Susy Peyton--by
himself! There was the episode of their being lost on the plains, as
he had already related it to her, with the addition of a few years to
Susy's age and some vivid picturesqueness to himself as Red Dick. She
was not, of course, aware that the part of the giddy worldling was
Jim's own conception of the character of Clarence. But what, even to
her provincial taste, seemed the extravagance of the piece, she felt, in
some way, reflected upon the truthfulness of the story she had heard. It
seemed to be a parody on himself, and in the laughter which some of the
most thrilling points produced in certain of the audience, she heard
an echo of her own doubts. But even this she could have borne if Jim's
confidence had not been given to the general public; it was no longer
HERS alone, she shared it with them. And this strange, bold girl, who
acted with him,--the "Blanche Belville" of the bills,--how often he must
have told HER the story, and yet how badly she had learned it! It was
not her own idea of it, nor of HIM. In the last extravagant scene she
turned her weary and half-shamed eyes from the stage and looked around
the theatre. Among a group of loungers by the wall a face that
seemed familiar was turned towards her own with a look of kindly and
sympathetic recognition. It was the face of Clarence Brant. When the
curtain fell, and she and her father rose to go, he was at their side.
He seemed older and more superior looking than she had ever thought him
before, and there was a gentle yet sad wisdom in his eyes and voice that
comforted her even while it made her feel like crying.

"You are satisfied that no harm has come to our friend," he said
pleasantly. "Of course you recognized him?"

"Oh, yes; we met him to-day," said Phoebe. Her provincial pride impelled
her to keep up a show of security and indifference. "We are going t