“But you might have let me know you were on the stage,” said Lilian, with good-humored reproach. “I find now that I know several of the actors who were with you at the Regency. And only think! I went there one night when you were playing in the piece, and never recognized you.” “I recognized you, though.” “Did you? Can you see people you know among the audience when you are acting?” “Oh, yes! And I saw Colonel Richardson.” “Most people can see him when you are about,” broke in Stephen, who had come from town with his cousin, but had sat silent in the carriage until now. This was a bolder speech than he would have ventured to make in the old times to Lilian, Annie thought. She noted that the cripple had grown much older-looking; his face, which had once been handsome, was thin and wasted, and he looked sullen and discontented. Lilian took no notice of his remark, and asked Annie if she had seen many of the people of the neighborhood since she had been at the Grange. “Yes, most of them have called, to my surprise, since William let out to old Mrs. Knowles that I had been on the stage. She and her niece made a tentative call, and I suppose the rumor spread that I did not bite, so everybody came and praised my wifely devotion, which I certainly did not deserve.” Lilian laughed. “Harry ill must be a great trial, though.” “He is rather; he has such strange freaks.” “Husbands always have, dear. Only fancy--my husband wanted to prevent my coming to the Grange!” “Really? For what reason?” “Oh, he disapproves of my brothers, or some such nonsense!” said Lilian lightly. But Stephen raised his eyes to his cousin’s face with a penetrating look which Annie noted and remembered. Dinner that night was a banquet of rejoicing. The two ladies were both, in different ways, among the most charming women of the day. Lilian was very handsomely dressed in dark red velvet, which showed off her fair, queenly beauty well; Annie, in maize-colored silk, with soft folds of Indian muslin about the throat, looked like a little fairy. The style of each was so different from that of the other that their attractions did not clash, and Annie’s quiet, simple manner of saying amusing things was the best contrast possible to Lilian’s laughing impertinences. Lilian was very anxious to know at once all about her sister-in-law’s stage-experiences, and was seized with a strong desire to become an actress herself. “Don’t you find people off the stage very dull after the nice, amusing people you meet in the theater?” she asked at dinner. “Oh, no! Some stage-people are dreadful bores, and many are coarse and many commonplace. They are not all alike, you know, any more than people off the stage.” “But all the actors I have ever met have been so bright and amusing. I know two who were at the Regency, where you acted--Mr. Gibson and Mr. Cooke.” “Oh, yes; I heard them say they knew you!”