and see Charles. I'll tell him what has
happened and that he may be given away at any moment now.'

'But why should they hate Charles?'

'It isn't Charles, darling. It is you they hate. You are too young,
too beautiful. These women who have lied and intrigued all their lives
can't forgive your frankness.'

'They can't forgive my being friends with you.... Oh! don't talk to me
about it any more. I hate it all. So disgusting it is.'

'I want Charles to clear out. He can go to Paris and come back if this
blows over.'

'I want him to be here to-morrow night. I want everybody to
acknowledge that all this is his work. There's to be a supper
to-morrow night after the performance. I want him to be there.'

Verschoyle shrugged his shoulders. He knew that opposition only made
her more obstinate.

'Very well,' he said, and he returned to the stalls where he made
himself exceedingly agreeable to Lady Bracebridge and her daughter,
hoping to prevent any further outburst of jealousy. Lady Bracebridge
was mollified and said presently,--

'After all, these things are nobody's affair but their own. I do think
the scenery is perfectly delightful, though I can't say it is my idea
of Caliban. But Henry is delightful. He reminds me so much of General
Booth.'

Clara stood free of all this foolish world of scandal and jealousy.
She had the answer to it all in herself. Whatever Clara Day had done,
Ariel was free and unattainable. She could achieve utter forgetfulness
of self, she could be born again in this miraculous experience for
which she had striven. As Ariel she could lead these mortals a dance.

'So I charmed their ears,
That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd through
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them
I' the filthy-mantled pool....'

The pool of scandal: drowned in their own foul words.

She plied her art, and even in the confusion of the dress rehearsal was
the most delicate Ariel, so lithe, so lissom, that it seemed she must
vanish into the air like the floating feathered seeds of full
summer.... Abandoned to the sweet sea-breezes of the play she felt
that the hard crust upon the world must surely break to let this
spilling beauty pour into its heart. Surely, surely, she and Charles
could have no enemies.

They meant nothing but what Charles had proposed at his absurd
dinner--love: an airy magical love