rth, and, knowing something of the feelings which made the
stage so repulsive to her, would have died to save her from the pain of
that night's experience.

Olympia was impatient, nervous, angry. What did the man think? Was she
to throw away the chances of a great success and a brilliant fortune,
because a romantic girl did not know her own mind? Was she to disgrace
herself before all London?

Brown had no answer. The whole thing was unreasonable--he knew that well
enough; but his heart ached for the poor girl. So he had done his best,
and failed miserably.

"Go back and cheer the foolish thing up," said Olympia. "You can do it.
She loves you better than any one in the world. Now, if you want to
oblige me, give her courage, soothe her. I never saw such a creature!
With the genius and voice of an angel, she has no ambition; but it will
come. Before the drinking song is over, she will forget herself. Go,
Brown, and give her courage."

Brown went back to the dressing-room, feeling like an executioner.

Caroline met him eagerly; but when she saw his face, her heart turned to
stone.

"I see! I see!" she said. "I am doomed! But, remember, I was forced into
this. Of my own choice, I would have died first; but she is my mother,
and, in my ignorance, I promised her. Tell _him_ this, if you should
ever see him. I never shall. After what he said of parts like this, I
should perish with shame. Ha! what's that?"

"They are calling you," faltered Brown.

She caught a sharp breath and sprang away from him, like a deer when the
hounds are in full cry.

CHAPTER IX.

THE FIRST PERFORMANCE.

The opera-house was full from floor to dome. A cheerful multitude
crowded the body of the house with smiling faces, and filled it with gay
colors, till it shone out gorgeously, like a thickly-planted
flower-garden. The boxes filled, more slowly; but, after half an hour of
soft, silken rustle and answering smiles, they, too, were crowded with
distinguished men and beautiful women of the British aristocracy, and
the whole arena was lighted up with the splendor of their garments and
the flaming brightness of their jewels. Then came a movement, and a low
murmur of discontent, which the grandest efforts of the orchestra could
not silence. The hour had arrived, but the curtain was still down. Was
there to be a disappointment, after all?

In the midst of this growing confusion a party entered one of the most
prominent boxes that drew