larity for a moment, but presently joined in it. Whilst they were both
laughing a hansom appeared, and Conolly, recovering himself, hailed the
driver.

"We shall get on together, I see," said Marmaduke, jumping into the cab.
"Hallo! The Bijou Theatre, Soho, and drive as fast as you can afford to
for half a sovereign."

"Right you are, sir," replied the driver, whipping his horse.

The rattling of the cab silenced Conolly; but his companion persisted
for some time in describing the burlesque to which they were going, and
particularly the attractions of Mademoiselle Lalage Virtue, who enacted
a principal character therein, and with whom he seemed to be in love.
When they alighted at the theatre Marmaduke payed the cabman, and
Conolly took advantage of this to enter the theatre and purchase two
stall tickets, an arrangement which Lind, suddenly recollecting his new
friend's position, disapproved of, but found it useless to protest
against. He forgot it on hearing the voice of Lalage Virtue, who was at
that moment singing within; and he went to his stall with his eyes
turned to the stage, treading on toes and stumbling as children commonly
do when they walk in one direction and look in another. An attendant,
who seemed to know him, proffered a glass for hire. He took it, and
leveled it at Mademoiselle Lalage, who was singing some trivial couplets
much better than they deserved. Catching sight of him presently, she
greeted him with a flash of her dark eye that made him writhe as though
his heart had received a fillip from a ponderable missile. She did not
spare these roguish glances. They darted everywhere; and Conolly,
looking about him to note their effect, saw rows of callow young faces
with parted lips and an expression which seemed to have been caught and
fixed at the climax of a blissful chuckle. There were few women in the
stalls, and the silly young faces were relieved only by stupid old ones.

The couplets ended amidst great applause. Marmaduke placed his glass on
his knees, and, clapping his hands vigorously, turned to his companion
with a triumphant smile, mutely inviting him to clamor for a repetition
of the air. But Conolly sat motionless, with his arms folded, his cheek
flushed, and his brow lowered.

"You dont seem used to this sort of thing," said Lind, somewhat
disgusted.

"It was well sung," replied Conolly "--better than most of these
blackguards know."

"Then why dont you clap?"

"Because she is