ngravings of poetic and dramatic subjects. The over-mantel was green
and white, with busts of SHAKSPEARE, SHELLEY, JOAN OF ARC, and FLORENCE
NIGHTINGALE, upon its little shelves. There were bookcases and cabinets
here and there, containing favourite authors and relics of great
actresses, such as hair-pins used by HELEN FAUCIT, a shoestring
belonging to RACHEL, and a brooch which had been worn by Mrs. SIDDONS.
Had not these geniuses, watched, waited and suffered? Then what right
had she to be impatient? It must have been a sweet nature that could
philosophise thus in face of an entire cabinet of rejected plays, bound
in white morocco, emblematic of their purity, though destined, it might
be, to revolutionise the present frivolous stage as soon as the
production of _Before the Dawn_ should send both actors and managers to
their author's door ravenous for the right to give her other works to an
astonished and delighted public.

This day of triumph might be nearer than either friends or scoffers
anticipated. Mr. ELLISTON DRURY had taken a warm interest in her work;
had indorsed the advice she had received to try _Before the Dawn_ at a
_Matinee_; had consented to play the leading character; and, what was
more interesting still, had volunteered to coach her in the part of the
heroine, if she was willing to impersonate that poetic and
self-sacrificing creation. Miss DE GONCOURT was willing to place herself
in the hands of Mr. ELLISTON DRURY; Miss DE GONCOURT did place herself
in his hands; and oh the rapture of hearing her words read to the
assembled company of "Artistes" in the Green Room of the Parthenon
Theatre on the day when the parts were distributed! The delight of those
first rehearsals! She felt so much at home on the Stage, that she began
to dream of a pre-existence in which she had been a priestess of Art,
somewhat after the manner of her Roman girl who, crowned with a poisoned
diadem, was sacrificed in the Temple, but to live again with the gods in
a sublimated world of song. Mr. ELLISTON DRURY accompanied her to the
train after each rehearsal, and paid her so much homage, that she began
to associate him in her tender feminine mind with the Roman youth for
whose love she was martyred at the shrine; and, long before the eventful
morning came, Mr. ELLISTON DRURY (who had received a fortnight's notice
at the Parthenon, but still had the future all before him) had made up
his mind to hang up his hat, for good, in the ae