The Soul of Countess Adrian. Rosa Campbell Praed

you have strength to overcome this fancy," he began vehemently.

      "It is no fancy; it's something real." She shuddered again. "If Countess Adrian came to the theatre and looked at me like that when I was acting, I should break down—as I did to-night. And I think that would kill me. My art is all the world to me. I live for it; I live in it. Mr. Lendon—no, don't speak, listen—I have a feeling that you could stand between one and—and Countess Adrian."

      "Between you and everything that could vex or harm you, if you would only let me. I can—and I will, Miss Brett, trust me."

      She put out her hand and let him hold it in his for a moment.

      "Yes, I will trust you. I can't tell you now all that I want to say. You must go to the others, and we will go home. Good night!"

      "But I may come to you?"

      "Oh yes. Marmy will be glad, and so shall I. In the evenings, please. I'm working all day. Miravoglia is directing my lessons. Marmy will give you the address."

      Mrs. Cubison took out a card from her pocket-book and gave it to him. The young man received it as though it had been a key to the gates of Paradise—as indeed it seemed to his excited fancy just then. And then he bade them good night.