As Sir Watkin looked into the advertising columns of the evening paper he caught the name of Miss Howard. She was acting that very night. He would go and see her. Just as he resolved to carry out this idea, his old club friend reappeared upon the scene. Sir Watkin stated his intention. There could be no harm in his doing that. Perhaps she might soften; perhaps her anger was only assumed. Perhaps it was not the woman but the actress that seemed so indignant at their unexpected meeting. ‘How foolish,’ thought his friend, ‘Sir Watkin is! He had better take me with him, or he’ll be sure to get into a scrape. That’s like him. Just as he wants to pull off that Brighton affair he’s off after another woman.’ Sir Watkin meanwhile is making his way to the theatre. I don’t say that he is to be condemned because he did that. As a rule a man of a gay turn or of idle disposition is better inside a theatre than out. At any rate, there he is out of harm’s way, and not losing money, as he might be if he remained betting and gambling at his club. The life there produced is a good deal of it artificial and unnatural, but the spectacle is generally pleasant, and if the actors are often ridiculous, some of them are good, and a few of them clever. It was late when Sir Watkin entered the theatre. For awhile he waited in vain; at length, on the stage, sure enough, was the woman he wanted to see. Did she recognise him in the stalls? He hoped she did. He was got up regardless of expense, and occupied a good place. He had dined well, and had somewhat the appearance of a son of Belial, flushed with insolence and wine. He felt that the actress was in his power. He knew the manager, and was certain that he could gain access, when he sought it, behind the scenes. Strange to say, the actress regarded him not. When you are acting, it is not always easy—especially if you are in earnest—to single out particular individuals from the motley mass in front of the footlights. The good actor throws himself into his part, and has something else to do than to gaze on occupants of the benches. His eyes and his heart are elsewhere. At the time, when Sir Watkin arrived, Miss Howard was a simple village girl, engaged in warding off the libertine advances of a wicked baron. It seemed that he was about to succeed in his foul designs. According to all human appearances he had her completely in his power. Happily her cry for help was heard, and, after a due amount of agony on her part, and of breathless suspense on the part of the audience, she was saved, and the curtain fell amidst thunders of applause. The piece was not much as regards novelty, but it was of a class that has just that touch of nature which makes the whole world kin. Miss Howard well acted the _rôle_ of the virtuous village maiden, and when the true lover, who had come back with a fortune which he had made in the Australian diggings, turned up, everyone felt that her