The next opera night all went as usual. Vizard in the box, looking sadder than usual. Rhoda's good sense had not been entirely wasted. Severne, with his bouquet, and his grave humility, until the play ended, and La Klosking passed out into the hall. Her back was hardly turned when Mademoiselle Lafontaine, dressed for the ballet, in a most spicy costume, danced up to her old friend, and slapped his face very softly with a rose, then sprung away and stood on her defense. “I'll have that rose,” cried Severne. “Nenni.” “And a kiss into the bargain.” “Jamais.” “C'est ce que nous verrons.” He chased her. She uttered a feigned “Ah!” and darted away. He followed her; she crossed the scene at the back, where it was dark, bounded over an open trap, which she saw just in time, but Severne, not seeing it, because she was between him and it, fell through it, and, striking the mazarine, fell into the cellar, fifteen feet below the stage. The screams of the dancers soon brought a crowd round the trap, and reached Mademoiselle Klosking just as she was going out to her carriage. “There!” she cried. “Another accident!” and she came back, making sure it was some poor carpenter come to grief, as usual. On such occasions her purse was always ready. They brought Severne up sensible, but moaning, and bleeding at the temple, and looking all streaky about the face. They were going to take him to the infirmary; but Mademoiselle Klosking, with a face of angelic pity, said, “No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go to my house.” They stared a little; but it takes a good deal to astonish people in a theater. Severne was carried out, his head hastily bandaged, and he was lifted into La Klosking's carriage. One of the people of the theater was directed to go on the box, and La Klosking and Ashmead supported him, and he was taken to her lodgings. She directed him to be laid on a couch, and a physician sent for, Miss Gale not having yet returned from Liverpool, whither she had gone to attend a lecture. Ashmead went for the physician. But almost at the door he met Miss Gale and Mr. Vizard. “Miss,” said he, “you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar.” “No bones broken?” “Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken heart.” “Where is he?” “Where I hoped never to see him again. “What! in her house?” said Rhoda and, hurried off at once. “Mr. Ashmead,” said Vizard, “a word with you.” “By all means, sir,” said Ashmead, “as we go for the doctor. Dr. Menteith has a great name. He lives close by your hotel, sir.” As they went, Vizard asked him what he meant by saying this accident would cost her a broken heart.