sked, in a low, clear voice. "Is it
Marguerite?"

She looked at him in a little fright at herself. She did not know why
she had exclaimed--she scarcely knew how; but when she met his
unembarrassed eyes, she began to think that possibly it might be
Marguerite. Indeed, a second later, she was quite sure it had been
Marguerite.

"Yes--I think so," she faltered. "Poor Marguerite! If she could only
have saved him?"

"How?" he asked.

"I don't--at least I scarcely know; but I think the author ought to have
made her save him, someway. If--if she could have suffered something, or
sacrificed something--"

"Would she have done it if she could?" commented Denis, languidly. He
had quite recovered himself by this time.

"I would have done it if I had been Marguerite," Theo half whispered.

In his surprise he forgot his self-possession. He turned upon her
suddenly, and meeting her sweet, world-ignorant eyes, felt the faint,
pained shock once more, and strangely enough his first thought was a
disconnected one of Priscilla Gower.

"You?" he said, the next moment. "Yes, I believe you would, Theodora."

He was sure she would, after that swift glance of his, and--Well, what a
happy man he would be for whom this tender young Marguerite would suffer
or be sacrificed. The idea had really never occurred to him before that
Theodora North was nearly a woman; but it occurred to him now with all
the greater force, because he had been so oblivious to the fact before.

He sat by her side until the curtain fell; but his silent mood seemed to
have come upon him again. He was very much interested in Marguerite
after this, Theo thought; but it is very much to be doubted whether he
could have given a clear account of what was passing before his eyes
upon the stage. He did not even go into the house with them when they
returned; but as he stood upon the door-step, touching his hat in a
final adieu, he was keenly alive to a consciousness of Theodora North at
the head of the stair-case, with billows of glistening rose-pink satin
lying on the rich carpet about her feet, as she half turned toward him
to bid him good-night.

Bright as the future was, it left a sense of discomfort, he could not
explain why. He dismissed the carriage, and walked down the street,
feeling fairly depressed in spirits.

He had, perhaps, never given the girl a thought before, unless when
chance had thrown them together, and even then his thoughts had been
common admi