"You must not suppose--" she interrupted; but, after a moment's halt of embarrassment, left the sentence unfinished, and made another beginning: "I never saw him or heard of him, after I left New York, till I had been three years on the stage. Then, when the war was over, he came back to London, and chanced to see me play at Drury Lane. He knew me in spite of my stage name, and during that very performance I found him waiting in the greenroom. I had no desire for any of his society, and told him so. But it seems that, finding me--admired, and successful in the way I had resorted to, he could not be content till he regained my--esteem. If I had shown myself friendly to him then, I should soon have been rid of him: but instead, I showed a resolution to avoid him; and he is the kind of man who can't endure a repulse from a woman. To say truth, he thinks himself invincible to 'em all, and when he finds one of 'em proof against him, even though she may once have seemed--when she didn't know her mind--well, she is the woman he must be pestering, to show that he's not to be resisted. "And so, at last, to be rid of his plaguing, I went away from London, and took another stage name, and acted in the country. Only Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan were in the secret of this: 'twas Mr. Sheridan gave me letters to the country managers. That was in the Fall of '83. Well, I heard after awhile that he too had gone into the country, to dance attendance on an old aunt, whose heir he had got the chance of being, through his cousin's death. But I knew if I came back to London he would hear of it, and then, sure, farewell to all my peace! He had continually threatened to carry me off in a coach to some village by the Channel, and take me across to France in a fishing-smack. When I declared I would ask the magistrates for protection, he said they would laugh at me as a play-actress trying to make herself talked about. I took that to be true, and so, as I've told you, I left London. "Well, after more than two years, I thought he must have put me out of his mind, and so I returned, and made my reappearance to-night. And, mercy on me!--there he was, waiting outside the theatre. From his appearance, I suppose the aunt has died and he has come into the money. He followed me home, as you saw; and for a moment, when he was carrying me toward the coach, I vow I had a fear of being rushed away to a seaport, and taken by force, on some fisherman's boat, across the Channel. And then, all of a sudden, 'twas as if you two had sprung out of the earth. Where did you come from? How was it? Oh, tell me all--all the news! Poor Tom! I thought I should die when I heard of his death. 'Twas--'twas Falconer told me--how he was killed in a skirmish with the--What's the matter? Why do you look so? Isn't it true? I entreat--!" "Did Falconer tell you Tom died that way?" I blurted out, hotly, ere Phil could check me. "In truth, he did! How was it?" She had turned white as a sheet.