Ere long my attention was diverted from them to a tall, dark, and rather peculiar-looking gentleman, who entered the box at our right. Sinking into a seat, he abandoned himself apparently, to his own thoughts, which could not have been very pleasant; for his forehead, which was high and white, seemed at times to be one mass of wrinkles, while his eyes, large, black, and deepset in his head, alternately flashed with anger and vexation. I am not much of a physiognomist, but there was in the face of the stranger something which at once attracted and riveted my attention. He was not handsome, like Dr. Clayton—nay, I am not sure but many would call him ugly, but I did not; and, somehow, I felt certain that no girl of _fourteen_ had ever wept over his fickleness, for he looked the soul of honor and integrity. Gradually, too, as the play proceeded, the expression which I had at first observed passed away; his dark eyes lighted up; and when, at last, a bright smile broke over his face, I pronounced him far better looking than the doctor, who was fast losing ground in my good opinion. The play was the “Lady of Lyons,” and though I was familiar with the story, I seemed now to hear it for the first time; so fully did I enter into the feelings of the heroine, Pauline, whose distress I could not believe was feigned. All was real to me; and I can now scarcely repress a smile, as I recall to mind how I must have looked, standing there with flushed cheeks, clasped hands, staring eyes, and lips slightly apart, drinking in every word of the actress. Once Anna pulled my dress, whispering to me, “Do sit down, Rosa; they are all looking at you, and Mrs. Clayton is laughing and pointing you out to her husband.” “I didn’t care for Dell Thompson, or the doctor either,” and so I said, while at the same time I glanced towards the stranger, whose eyes were fixed upon me with an expression I could not fathom. He was not making fun of me, I was sure of that; but as if there were a magnetic influence in his look, which I could not resist, I dropped into my seat, and remained motionless until the closing scene, where, with a piercing shriek, Pauline rushed into the arms of her husband. Then there came over me the same sensation which I had experienced years before in the old schoolhouse at Meadow Brook. Everything grew dark around me, and with a faint cry I fell across Anna’s lap. I was not entirely unconscious, for I have a dim remembrance of being led from the heated room, the close atmosphere of which had probably helped to bring on my faintness. The cool air outside revived me in a measure, but it was the mesmeric touch of two large, warm hands which fully restored to me my faculties, and, looking up, I saw bending over me the gentleman in whom I had been so much interested. Dr. Clayton, too, was there, looking worried and anxious, but instinctively leaving me to the care of the stranger, who seemed to know exactly what to do.