She spoke so honestly that once more the woman felt a twinge of shame, but she steeled herself promptly against all feelings of sympathy. “You can send her a message,” she said. “I’ll write it and tell her how kind you are to me. So, now, that is settled, and you are coming. I’ll be ready in a minute and my carriage is waiting.” Marion helped her to adjust her wraps and then followed her to the carriage, the old door-keeper at the stage door staring after them curiously. “That is queer,” he muttered, with a shake of his head. “There is mischief in the wind; I’m as sure of it as I’m living.” But poor, innocent Marion did not dream of mischief; she was only happy to think that she was befriending this woman. Almost the first night of her appearance with the company she had felt that Carlotta disliked her, and her gentle heart had been pained by the thought. She could see no reason why Carlotta should be jealous of her. “She is far more experienced and clever than I,” she said to herself, for she was too thoroughly modest to ever overrate her own talents. Now the woman was smiling at her and chatting pleasantly, and the noble girl’s heart was rejoicing in the belief that she had been mistaken in the prima donna’s sentiments and that Carlotta was really a friend to her. “Is your sister as pretty as you are?” asked Carlotta, after they were seated in the carriage. She was gazing steadily at Marion with an expression of admiration. “Of course you know you are pretty,” she added, quickly. “All pretty women do, so you need not look so horrified.” “I think Dollie is much prettier than I,” was the low, soft answer. “She has golden hair and eyes like the violets; then her form is so plump, and so pretty and graceful.” “Wasn’t there something about the two of you in the papers not long ago?” was the singer’s next question. “Wasn’t she abducted or something, and didn’t you rescue her?” “A man who boarded with us in the country abducted her, yes,” said Marion, slowly, “and I followed and saved her; he was Professor Dabroski, the Hypnotist.” “Heavens! What an experience!” said the woman, feigning great sympathy. “Did he—did he wrong her, Ila? But you need not answer; I see it pains you.” “I do not know,” said the girl, very sadly, “and poor Dollie will never know, because she has no recollection of her experiences.” “Well, a man would not meet with much success in your direction,” said the woman, laughing loudly. “I fancy you’d hold your own and make things lively for the one who tried it.” “I should certainly resent such an attempt,” said the brave girl, sternly, “but I guess I am not so weak as a great many women.” “Oh, no, you are a little paragon of virtue,” thought the woman, bitterly. “You are a wonderful creature, and men love you because you are virtuous.” Aloud she responded, suavely: “Well, I’m glad you are strong, my dear. You will need all your strength to resist the men in our profession.”