felt as if she were struggling against this attempt of the
audience to take possession of her, were fighting to preserve intact her
independence, her individuality. But it became almost the business of a
nightmare, this strange and unequal struggle in the artistic darkness
devised by Crayford. And the audience seemed to be gaining in strength,
like an adversary braced up by conflict.

Conflict! The word had appeared like a criminal in Charmian's mind. She
strove vehemently to banish it. There was, there could be no conflict in
such a matter as was now in hand. But, oh! this portentous silence!

It came to an end at last. The curtain fell, and applause broke forth.
It resembled the applause after the first act. And once more there were
three calls for the singers. Then the clapping died away and
conversation broke out, spreading over the crowd. Many people got up
from their seats and went out or moved about talking with acquaintances.

"I can see Mr. Van Brinen," said Charmian.

"Can you? Where is he?"

Claude got up slowly, picked up the roses and the cablegram from the
chair beside Charmian, put them behind him, and took the chair, bringing
it forward quite to the front of the box. As he did so Charmian made a
sound like a word half-uttered and checked.

"Where is he?" Claude repeated.

Many people in the stalls were looking at him, were pointing him out. He
seemed to ignore the attention fixed upon him.

"There!" said Charmian, in a low voice.

She pointed with her fan, then leaned back.

Claude looked and saw Van Brinen not far off. He was standing up in the
stalls, facing the boxes, bending a little and talking to two smartly
dressed women. His pale face looked sad. Presently he stood up straight
and seemed to look across the intervening heads into Claude's eyes.

"He must see me!" Claude thought. "He does see me!"

Van Brinen stood thus for quite a minute. Then he made his way to one of
the exits and disappeared.

"He is coming round to the box, I'm sure," said Charmian cheerfully. "He
evidently saw us."

"Yes."

But Van Brinen did not come. Nor did Jacob Crayford. Several others
came, however, and there were comments, congratulations. The same things
were repeated by several mouths with strangely similar intonations. And
Charmian made appropriate answers. And all the time she kept on saying
to herself: "This is my hour of triumph, as Madame Sennier's was at
Covent Garden. Only this is America an