had really committed this crime, of which he might have been
quite unconsciously guilty, Miss Pettrell was wholly innocent of it;
and, indeed, the effect she made might very well have been imagined by
herself, and only have borne this teasing resemblance by pure accident.
Godolphin was justly punished if he were culpable, and he suffered an
eclipse in any case which could not have been greater from Miss
Havisham. There were recalls for the chief actors at every fall of the
curtain, and at the end of the third act, in which Godolphin had really
been magnificent, there began to be cries of "Author! Author!" and a
messenger appeared in the box where the Maxwells sat and begged the
author, in Godolphin's name, to come behind at once. The next thing that
Louise knew the actor was leading her husband on the stage and they
were both bowing to the house, which shouted at them and had them back
once and twice and still shouted, but now with a certain confusion of
voices in its demand, which continued till the author came on a fourth
time, led by the actor as before, and himself leading the heroine of his
piece. Then the storm of applause left no doubt that the will of the
house had been rightly interpreted.

Louise sat still, with the tears blurring the sight before her. They
were not only proud and happy tears, but they were tears of humble
gratitude that it was Miss Pettrell, and not Mrs. Harley, whom her
husband was leading on to share his triumph. She did not think her own
desert was great; but she could not tax herself with any wrong that she
had not at least tried to repair; she felt that what she had escaped she
could not have suffered, and that Heaven was merciful to her weakness,
if not just to her merit. Perhaps this was why she was so humble and so
grateful.

There arose in her a vague fear as to what Godolphin might do in the
case of a Salome who was certainly no more subordinated to his Haxard
than Miss Havisham's, or what new demands he might not make upon the
author; but Maxwell came back to her with a message from the actor,
which he wished conveyed with his congratulations upon the success of
the piece. This was to tell her of his engagement to Miss Pettrell,
which had suddenly taken place that day, and which he thought there
could be no moment so fit to impart to her as that of their common
triumph.

Louise herself went behind at the end of the piece, and made herself
acceptable to both the artists in her co