nsist upon making the great Miss Bouverie their guest
for the period of her professional sojourn in the capital; and a
semi-Bohemian supper at the Government House was but a characteristic
_finale_ to her first great concert.

The _prima donna_ sat on the Governor's right, and at the proper point
his Excellency sang her praises in a charmingly informal speech, which
delighted and amused the press men, actors and actresses whom he had
collected for the occasion. Only the guest of honor looked a little
weary and condescending; she had a sufficient experience of such
entertainments in London, where the actors were all London actors, the
authors and journalists men whose names one knew. Mere peers were no
great treat either; in a word, Hilda Bouverie was not a little spoilt.
She had lost the girl's glad outlook on the world, which some women keep
until old age. There were stories about her which would have accounted
for a deeper deterioration. Yet she was the Governor's guest, and her
behavior not unworthy of the honor. On him at least she smiled, and her
real smile, less expansive than the platform counterfeit, had still its
genuine sweetness, its winning flashes; and, at its worst, it was more
sad than bitter.

To-night the woman was an exhausted artist--unnerved, unstrung, unfitted
for the world, yet only showing it in a languid appreciation which her
host and hostess were the first to understand. Indeed, it was the great
lady who carried her off, bowing with her platform bow, and smiling that
smile, before the banquet was at an end.

A charming suite of rooms had been placed at the disposal of the _prima
donna_; the boudoir was like a hot-house with the floral offerings of
the evening, already tastefully arranged by madame's own Swiss maid. But
the weary lady walked straight through to her bedroom, and sank with a
sigh into the arm-chair before the glass.

"Who brought this?" she asked, peevishly picking a twisted note from
amid the golden furniture of her toilet-table.

"I never saw it until this minute, madame!" the Swiss maid answered, in
dismay. "It was not there ten minutes ago, I am sure, madame!"

"Where have you been since?"

"Down to the servants' hall, for one minute, madame."

Miss Bouverie read the note, and was an animated being in three seconds.
She looked in the glass, the flush became her, and even as she looked
all horror died in her dark-blue eyes. Instead there came a glitter that
warned the