to him, then?" she asked.

"It will be some time before he can attend to any letters. You have no
idea how weak he is. We want him to remain in perfect rest and quiet."

"This is Thursday," she said. "Supposing everything goes well, and I
called on Tuesday next, could I see him then?"

"By that time it would be easier to say," he answered, with diplomatic
ingenuity. "I should think it very likely."

"It will be a long time before he can come back to the theatre?" she
asked again.

"There is no doubt about that."

"But his voice will be all right when he gets well?"

"Dr. Whitsen seems to think so."

She stood undecided for a moment; then she said,

"Well, I won't write until you give me leave. I don't mind your seeing
the letter, when I do. In the meantime, will you tell Lionel how awfully
glad I am that he is going on well, and that we shall all be glad to
have him back at the theatre?"

"I will give him the message."

"Thanks--good-bye." And therewith Miss Burgoyne and her brother Jim
withdrew.

But if Maurice set his face against that young lady being allowed to see
Lionel in his present exhausted condition, it was quite otherwise with
his notions about Nina. He talked to the three doctors, and to Mrs.
Moore, and to Francie--to Francie most of all; and he maintained that,
so far from such a meeting causing any mental disturbance, the knowledge
that Nina was in London, was close by, would only be a source of joy and
placid congratulation and peace. They yielded at last, and the
experiment was to be tried on the Saturday morning about eleven. Nina
was told. She trembled a little, but was ready to do whatever was
required of her.

"Well, now," said Maurice to her, when she came up that morning (he
noticed that she was dressed with extreme neatness and grace, and also
that she seemed pale and careworn, though her beautiful dark eyes had
lost none of their soft lustre), "we mustn't startle him. We must lead
up to his seeing you. I wonder whether your playing those Neapolitan
airs may not have left some impression on his brain?--they might sound
familiar?"

At once Nina went to the piano and silently opened it.

"I will go and talk to him," he whispered. "Just you play a little, and
we'll see."

Mangan went into the next room and began to say a few casual words, in a
careless kind of way, but all the time keeping watchful and furtive
observation of his friend's face. And even as he spoke there came
a