"Had he not?" exclaimed the girl, with sudden passion. "He was the kindest, wisest, best man I ever knew! I could not help trusting him, he looked so good. He made me tell him all about myself, and then he took me with him to the boarding-house in Euston Road where he lived, and said that he would be responsible to the landlady for me until I got something to do. And Mrs. Wadsley was so fond of him that she took me on trust for his sake. I don't believe she ever suspected how little he really knew about me. And next day he took me to some friends of his, and between them they got me a little engagement at a theatre; and then I had a small speaking part, and so on--you know as well as I do how young actresses go from step to step--so that I was able to support myself after a time, and be no longer a burden upon him." "And would he not let you sing?" "No; he gave me lessons every day, and made me practise a long time; but I had to promise him that I would not sing to anybody but himself unless--unless I were obliged. I used to be angry about it; but he was so good to me that I always gave in to him in the end. I fancy now that he had a purpose in it all. When I was sufficiently trained, he wanted to take me to Mapleson or some other great _impresario_, and get him to bring me out in opera." "Very likely. But you say he died?" "Yes," said the girl, with a sigh, "he died--suddenly too, so that he did not even say good-bye. He was found dead one morning in his bed. Since then I have been all alone in the world; and I think Mr. Ferguson knew it, and wanted to take advantage of my position." "No doubt of it." "So then, as I had no engagement at the theatre, I thought I would see whether my voice would do anything for me. And, as I told you last night, I made up my mind to speak to you." Hubert had stood with his arms on the piano, looking gravely down on the girl's bent face as she told her story. As she paused, she raised her head, and her great dark eyes looked straight into his with an expression of mute appeal which stirred his feelings strangely. It moved him so much that he was forced to take down his arms and turn aside from the piano for a moment or two; he scarcely wanted her to see how deeply he was touched. He soon came back to her side, however, and said-- "If I had refused to listen to you, what would you have done?" "I don't know," she answered meditatively. "You would have gone to some manager--some celebrated _impresario_?" "And been snubbed and repulsed by one and all!" said, Cynthia, with sudden passion. She rose from the music-stool and stood facing him; he saw her bosom rise and fall, he marked the varying color in her cheeks, the light and shadow in her troubled eyes, as she poured out the impetuous words with which her heart was charged.