yes. "I've never
disappointed the public once before, never once; and if I could only get
over to-night, there's the long rest to-morrow and Monday."

"Come, come," said the doctor, soothingly, "you must not excite yourself
about a mere trifle. You know it is no uncommon thing, and the public
don't resent it; they would be most unreasonable if they did. Singers
are but mortal like themselves. No, no, you must put that out of your
mind altogether."

Lionel turned to Maurice.

"Maurice," he said, in that husky voice, and yet with a curious, subdued
eagerness, "telegraph to Lehmann at once--at once. Doyle is all right;
he has sung the part often enough. And will you send a note to Doyle; he
can go into my dressing-room and take any of my things he wants; Lingard
has the keys. And a telegram to mother, in case she should see something
in the newspapers; tell her there is nothing the matter--only a trifling
cold--"

"Really, Mr. Moore," said the doctor, interposing, "you must have a
little care; you must calm yourself. I am sure your friend will attend
to all these matters for you, but in the meantime you must exercise the
greatest self-control, or you may do your throat some serious injury.
Why should you be disturbed by so common an incident in professional
life? Your substitute will do well enough, and the public will greet you
with all the greater favor on your return."

"It never happened before," the young man said, in lower tones. "I never
had to give in before."

"Now tell me," Dr. Whitsen continued. "Dr. Ballardyce is your usual
medical attendant, is he not?"

"I know him very well; he is an old friend of mine, but I've never had
occasion to trouble him much," was the answer, given with some greater
care and reserve.

"I will call on him as I go by, and if possible we will come down
together in the afternoon," the doctor said; and then Maurice fetched
him writing materials from the other room, and he sat down at the little
table. Before he went, he gave some general directions; then the two
friends were left alone.

Lionel took up the pencil again, and turned to the block of paper.

"The L300, Maurice," his trembling fingers scrawled, showing how his
mind was still torturing itself with those obligations.

"Oh, that's all right," Maurice answered, lightly. "You give me Lord
Rockminster's address, and I'll take the check to him myself as soon as
the doctors have been here in the afternoon. Don't you wor