genuous conviction of an admiring child.

Thus she really appeared to Edith at this moment; the small delicate figure, and wistful little face so eagerly lifted, all contributing to this impression.

'I accept your homage as readily as you tender it, sweet little Nell,' said Edith; and I will not insult you by calling your words flattery, since we are told that "flattery's the food of fools."

'You do me simple justice in accepting my words as honestly meant, Miss Eliot,' Nell said. There was just a suspicion of offended dignity in her tone, and in the sudden raising of her chin.

Miss Eliot saw and noted the movement, and the look which accompanied it. 'The child is even more quaint and piquante than I had given her credit for already,' was her mental comment. Aloud she said,

'And so you will trust me, little Nell, and tell me some of your secrets ?'

'I would love to tell you all about my life, if you will let me, and don't mind listening to a stupid sorry story. I have told no one, not even my dear mother, all that has been happening to me since I went upon the stage. There are things one cannot talk about. And my mother does not understand our ways at the theatre, and does not approve of my being there at all. That has brought about the latest-and perhaps the greatest— trouble of any I have known. For now a rich old gentleman is wanting to marry me; and he has been talking to my mother about it. He came to our place last night, before I-before I returned from-from -the theatre' (Miss Eliot took a cue here from Nell's evident and painful embarrassment); and he talked to such purpose that poor dear mum was quite convinced

there was only one way possible for me to do my duty, and to make her and every one concerned perfectly happy.'

'And that was by leaving the stage at once, and consenting to marry the rich old gentleman ?' asked Miss Eliot, with a dubious. smile.

'That was exactly-almost word for word-what dear mum said,' cried Nell hastily. But how could you have known her wishes, Miss Eliot; you, who have never even seen her ?'

'I think I know something of the parts usually played by mothers, on and off the stage too, child,' answered the actress, smiling still. Then, in a graver tone, she added, 'So that accounts for the tears, the trouble, and the sleepless night, little Nell ?'

Nell bowed her head in silence.

'The position is uncomfortable, perhaps even trying. But most difficulties are surmountable. Personally, I rather enjoy the knowledge that I shall have to encounter certain obstacles before achieving a task I desire to accomplish. "Battle's magnificently stern array" has its attractions even for us "weaker vessels;" but our arms, and our method of fighting for the desired end, are subtler far than military tactics, powder, and sword.

Is the old gentleman in question very rich, and is he also very objectionable?'

On the contrary,' answered Nell frankly. He is delightful; and if only he had not taken this unhappy notion into his head I should still think of him as quite the nicest the nicest old man, that is-whom I have ever known.'

'And before you went home, after the theatre last night, you had been talking to another nice man, and not an old one. Isn't that so, Nell?'

'Did you see us, Miss Eliot?

Is

'Then it was so ?' continued the actress quietly. She had improvised a little part on the spur of the moment; and as she played it successfully it became more and more interesting to her. It was only a surmise of mine,' she said; 'but as it was correct I shall look to you for further enlightenment. Is the young man in question your lover, Nell? Have you engaged yourself, child as you are? this youth nearer and dearer to you than your work and the fair prospect of a great, or certainly an independent, career? Have you seriously thought of marrying, of binding yourself with fetters which must cripple you sooner or later? Are you ready to link your talent, your future, your fate with that of some poor (I am sure he is poor), some poor young-'

'I was not only ready, but happy in the thought of such a possibility a day-a week ago,' cried Nell hastily. Then her tone and her expression changed, and, in a broken voice, she added, 'Those dreams are over now, and I must teach myself to forget them. This I shall do; for henceforth my only ambition, love, life, and interest, all shall be centred in achieving some success in the profession I admire above any other, and of which you are the queen, Miss Eliot !'

when a woman misses her chance of fulfilling those duties which should be most congenial. Then, surely, it behoves her to assert her independence.'

'You shall judge for me,' said Nell. I will tell you all that hás happened between Jack and myself. Then I shall feel that I can safely abide by your decision. And if I have your approval to support me, I am sure I can hold my own against Sir Hercules and my poor dear mum too. She will be dreadfully angry and disappointed and miserable, I am afraid, but

'She will get over that, my child,' interrupted Edith, smiling. She felt inclined to add, All that sort of thing is invariably written. in the part for parents and guardians; but, fearing to hurt Nell, she refrained from the comment.

Having resolved to tell all her little story, Nell, without further preamble or hesitation, commenced her tale. She told of her first meeting with Jack, of her subsequent interview with Ophelia, of his having ingratiated himself with Mrs. Hall by some allusion to the family of her late revered husband; and so on and on.

The visit to Silverbeach, Rosamond's apparent coquetry, Jack's subsequent indifference, the scene at Ophelia's deathbed, and the final interview on the Embankment last night. All this, with such details as are already known to the reader, Nell now told her new friend, who listened with rapt interest to the simple and pathetic recital.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN IMPATIENT SUITOR.

having finished her pitiful little story, looked anxiously into her companion's gentle face,- the greatest difficulty will be your constantly meeting Mr. Clifford, and this is of course unavoidable while you are acting in the same theatre. Your only escape from the ordeal would be your absence from town.'

'But how and where could I go?' asked Nell, wistfully. I am tied here, of course, as long as Mrs. Powell is satisfied with me?'

'Even that is not quite of course,' said Miss Eliot, though I applaud your uncompromising view of the situation. It is not unlikely that I myself can lend you a helping hand out of the first part of your dilemma; and as for Sir Hercules, whose name I see trembling on your lips-as difficulty number two -you need be under no misapprehension from that quarter. According to your own showing, he is a chivalrous gentleman, and, as such, he will forbear from urging his suit, once he has ascertained that it is not acceptable.'

Miss Eliot spoke with conviction. Such was her impression. But even a clever and accomplished woman may lack practical experience of the world and the ways of the men and women in it.

The actress diagnosed Jack Clifford intuitively and correctly. He was but an example of a certain class of young men, with whom all theatrical people are more or less acquainted.

The influence he had exercised over unsophisticated little Nell was easily accounted for by his unusual beauty, and a certain gentleness of bearing which, in a strong man, is peculiarly fascinating.

All this was clear as the light of day to Miss Eliot's penetrating gaze. But she quite misjudged the force of Sir Hercules' sudden passion; nor had she taken Mrs.

Hall's power over her daughter into due consideration.

'I have presumed on your kindness, your very great kindness, Miss Eliot,' said Nell, rising in sudden dismay as the striking of a sonorous hall-clock warned her of the passage of time.

'You look quite weary and wan, my poor little friend,' said Edith compassionately. 'I shall not allow you to go until you have had a cup of tea to refresh you. It is I who have been keeping you such an unconscionable time by all my pertinacious inquiries. You will forgive me, I know; but here is some one who will not be so lenient when he sees what looked the merriest, rosiest of baby faces last night, paled and saddened by trouble and tears.'

Nell, suddenly aware that a stranger stood within the frame of the open window, started back in alarm. Her first impulse was to hide her face and run away, but Miss Eliot's hand stayed her.

'You must remain and have tea with us now,' said the actress; 'and you must let me introduce my brother Hubert to you.

'I have been worrying and wearying this poor child with my insatiable appetite for psychological information.'

'Penetralia mentis with arbitrary variations in fact?' said Hubert, smiling at his sister; but when his eyes fell on Nell's poor sad little face, he looked quite anxious.

Edith, who was observant by nature, and always watched her brother's face with especial interest, instantly perceived the change in it.

'We have been talking over our lives on and off the stage,' she explained, looking grave. Miss Trevor is a child compared to me; but we have some common experience of trouble, and we have come to the conclusion that earn

'Hearts?' suggested Hubert. He was laughing in his turn now.

'It is surely better for women not to plead guilty to the possession of hearts at all,' observed Nell, looking very demure.

'It is always politic for a woman to act on the defensive,' answered Hubert oracularly.

This quaint little girl with the wistful eyes and the melancholy voice interested him. Last night he had looked upon her as a likely actress of light comedy. To-day she appeared to him the personification of the poet's vision, that 'Let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,

. . . smiling at grief.'

If Hubert had at the same moment remembered the dictum of another master,

'For pity melts the mind to love,' he might, perchance, have checked the feeling of intense compassion with which Nell's sweet sad little face now filled him.

As it was, he looked and wondered; looked and laughed to see the bright smile back on her pretty lips, the laughter in her soft brown eyes, which he had thought so fascinating the night before.

Nell, having recovered from her momentary embarrassment, looked at Mr. Eliot with interest. He was Edith's brother; that fact alone gave him an instant claim on her attention. He must be her senior by many years, was Nell's first mental comment. He was not tall, and his broad well-developed figure gave him a look of steady middle age; whereas Edith's slight and lissom form suggested youth and girlishness.

His eyes and his hair matched those of his sister accurately; but the shape of his clean-shaven face, which was round rather than oval,

racterised hers. His hair was close cropped too, as the exigencies of his profession required; while waving masses curled tenderly about fair Edith's head, forming an aureole, which had already inspired sonnet-writers and other would-be poets.

In these details brother and sister differed, to the great disadvantage of the former; but their voices, their eyes, and their manners of speech and movement were alike.

'Strong family resemblance,' said casual critics; but Nell found more than flesh and blood likeness in these new friends of hers. They

love and respect one another,' thought the romantic little maiden. 'So they have learnt one another's ways of looking and speaking and moving. He must be a good man, or his sister would not love him, as I can see she does. As for his devotion -any man must be proud and glad to serve her. For my part, I should think that the greatest happiness possible in this disappointing world.'

Such thoughts were in poor little Nell's mind as she seated herself in the omnibus which was to carry her to Charing Cross. She dreaded the end of the weary jolting journey. She dreaded the moment of her arrival in Alpha-street and the reopening of that vexed question between her mother and herself, which had already cost so much heart-burning and so many tears to both of them.

When she reached the third-floor landing her heart was beating audibly, she thought. And she paused, listening anxiously, quaking with apprehension lest Sir Hercules should be within, intending to plead in person for what Nell again declared to herself in a passionate whisper she would never,

never consent to.

The

It was a relief to find that all Iwas silent within the room. battle of words which had raged this morning would, no doubt, be resumed again; but as yet no stranger was in the camp.

Nell cautiously turned the handle of the door. Sometimes her mother fell asleep over her crewel-work. If so, a written word left on the table would suffice to account for her daughter's sudden appearance and disappearance, since (as Nell gratefully remembered) it was already time for her to be on the way to the theatre.

But all Nell's caution and her anticipations were vain, for when she entered the room it was empty.

She hurried to the bedroom then, realising with a feeling of compunction that her mother was probably suffering from the ill effects of the undue grief and excitement of the morning.

But the bedroom also was untenanted.

Nell ran to the wardrobe. Mrs. Hall's one silk gown, the cashmere shawl, and black-lace bonnet, which constituted her 'Sunday toilette,' had all disappeared. Her mother had gone out, then! Gone out alone!

This event was as startling as it was unprecedented.

'She has gone to Silverbeach to consult with father!' thought Nell; and wringing her hands, she cried, 'O father, father! don't you turn against your little girl; don't you persuade her, or bid her do this dreadful, dreadful thing!'

Perhaps it was her passionate appeal to the absent father which reminded poor Nell of the Universal and Omnipresent Parent, before whom she now sank on her knees, and to whom she prayed, in humble faith, with childlike simplicity.

'Our Father!' she said, as she knelt with folded hands and tearfilled eyes. And when she had

repeated the all-comprehensive prayer, she added a little private supplication for help and strength and knowledge in this moment of bitter trial.

Steadied and greatly comforted, she rose from her knees. Thankfully she remembered that duty called her to immediate action, and necessitated the instant putting aside of private griefs and anxieties.

'Roberta must smile,' thought Nell; and as she hurried along towards the theatre, she herself smiled at the thought.

'I suppose you know who is in front?' whispered Jack, as Nell came round to the wing in which he was standing, preparatory to their joint entrance on the stage. Nell shook her head.

'Your mother and Sir Hercules,' said Jack; and Nell, taking her cue from Miss Dalgleish, walked on.

She was far too much absorbed by the thoughts of her responsible position, once she appeared before the public, to allow either her eyes or her attention to wander-to the front.

In days bygone, when she had been among the audience herself, a very watchful observer of every look and movement of those on the stage, she had occasionally noticed the wandering glances and the inattention to their immediate 'business' of some of the secondrate actresses. And even then Nell had formally resolved never to fall into the errors which so shocked her in others. She had not forgotten this wise resolution after her own début, and rigorously kept her glances and her attention concentrated on the stage and her fellow-actors.

She was now sufficiently at her ease in her little part thoroughly to enjoy it, and she entered into the spirit of the light and playful

scenes con amore.