Her breath was coming in gasps and she spoke with difficulty. Now that the excitement was over and the necessity for bearing up at an end, there came the reaction. "I think I had better go home and lie down," she said, "or I shall not be at my post to-night, and I must, you know, I must." "Poor child, I could fairly have cried," said kindly Mrs. Doss to her spouse after Bella had been safely escorted home. "I'm not satisfied with you, old girl," said Mr. Doss, shaking his head mournfully. "I can't 'elp thinking you might ha' managed things better. If Bella Blackall goes on a singing at the Hempire, you mark my words, she'll sing herself into 'eaven." CHAPTER VII. A week went by slowly: the hours crept like snails, and yet the days were surely slipping away, bringing nearer and nearer the one which was to give Sir John Chetwynd his second wife. He had hardly seen Lady Ethel since the evening when she had yielded a coy assent to his not (it must be confessed) very amorous request that she would fix an early day for their nuptials, and his state of mind was anything but an enviable one. If ever a man was torn two ways, halting between prudence and worldly consideration on one side and the force and power of a love which he had honestly believed was laid for ever in its grave, that man was Sir John. The idea of seeing Bella again did not occur to him for some days, but when it fastened on him he could not shake it off. It was stronger than himself. He excused his temptation by the condition of her health, though in his heart of hearts he knew well enough that this was not sufficiently critical to serve for a reason. Twice he seized his hat with the intention of going to her, then laid it aside, angry and disgusted with his own weakness. His profession no longer occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of every other topic. He sat for hours buried in the newly awakened memories that that one brief glimpse of her had conjured up, unable, unwilling to rouse himself. And then he made a compromise with his own weakness and irresolution. He would not go to Cecil Street, since by so doing he would be offering a tacit insult to the woman he had pledged himself to marry, but he would, he must see Bella, himself unseen and his presence unsuspected, and this he could effect easily by going to the Empire. The notion pleased him, and that self-same evening he carried it out. Bella was worse. She could no longer deceive herself. It was only by a superhuman effort that she could pull herself together sufficiently to sing the one song which was all her part consisted of now. After she had got into her pretty sea-green skirts of lace and tulle and shimmering silk, like so much sea foam, she had to lie still and, let the poor over-strained lungs and heart recover themselves, and then, when the summons came she called up a smile to her wan face and pluckily did her best. But that night she looked up at Saidie after the last ribbon was in its place.