hat could she do but hide herself
forever from him and the whole world? She forgot the bursts of applause
that had followed the first effort of her voice, and sank everything
together in one sweep of bitter shame.

"My darling! my poor darling!"

It was Brown who had crept into her room, crest-fallen and drooping,
like a man stunned by some heavy blow. Caroline started up.

"Oh! my friend! You are sorry for me, yet I have disappointed you so; my
heart aches! my heart aches! but what can I do?"

"Never mind," answered the tender-hearted man. "It was the fright, stage
fright--a terrible thing; but it seldom comes twice. Why, that woman,
your mother I mean, broke down over and over again, but the parts were
so small, no one observed it enough to clap or hiss, while you sang like
an angel, up to the very minute you fainted. I never saw anything like
it."

Caroline sank back to her pillow, moaning. She was still in her
theatrical costume, and its glitter sickened her.

"Don't take on so," persisted the kind musician. "It was not a failure.
No one will consider it so. On the contrary, it can be made to tell,
and your next appearance will be an ovation."

Caroline started to her elbow again.

"My next appearance! and you say that! You! you! Oh! Mr. Brown, I did
not think you would turn against me!"

"Turn against you, my child?" Tears trembled in the man's voice, and the
words quivered on his lips as he added: "My poor darling. Do you not
know that old Brown would die for you?"

"Then keep me from the stage; snatch me from a life that I loathe. I
tell you, all this is against my nature. I have no genius to carry me
forward, no ambition, no hope. Oh! that is gone, quite."

"But it is an honorable profession," faltered Brown, in his distress.
"Think how many noble geniuses have found immortality on the stage."

"I know it, I know it well; but they were led that way, heart and soul,
while I have no wish for fame or anything that it could bring. What does
a woman want with immortality--above all, a poor young girl like me,
whose very heart trembles in her bosom, when a crowd of strange eyes are
turned upon her, as they were on me to-night?"

"But you will soon get over that."

"No. I never shall. This one night has broken up my life, and well nigh
killed me. Let what may come, I will starve rather than tread that stage
again."

"Hush! dear, hush! This passion will make you worse."

"But I mean it, Eliza, and I