But she was not thinking of applause. She was too startled, too dazed to think at all, for something new and hitherto undreamt of in her was responding passionately to the passionate appeal to which she listened, and her clasp on the chair behind which she stood slackened in relief as the kiss of forgiveness was given. Oh, that was right! Who, loving the man, would not forgive? Who could help it in such case? And this--yes! this was love! It seemed to her as if the play passed in a moment, and yet that it had stolen the reality from all the rest of her life; nor did she realise who the actors were until, amid the applause with which the curtain came down, she heard two familiar voices from the row of chairs in front of her. "Bravo! Bravissimo!" said one. "That was well done. He has my compliments." "And mine," quoth the other, solemnly jocose. "But to think of it? Oh, Thomas, my lad, _quod medicorum est promettant medice_, but this is no healing o' hearts, man! Eh! Father Macdonald, but we will have at the learned impostor; we will!" "_Amor al cor gentil ralto s'apprende_," put in the gentler voice, in the same jocose strain; and then they both laughed. Marjory stepped back involuntarily as if to avoid hearing more; but she had heard enough, for there, as she raised her eyes, stood Dr. Kennedy and Mrs. Vane, bowing their acknowledgments of the recall. The old life had come back again, but with a strange new thrill in it which made her heart beat, yet left her dazed and weary. "If I could always act with Tom Kennedy," said Mrs. Vane, jubilant over the success, when Marjory went behind the scenes to aid in the coming tableaux, "I should make my fortune. He is the only amateur I ever saw who knows how to make love!" "He did it very well," assented Marjory, coldly. She felt glad that he was too busy with the scenery for her to have speech with him; she would not have known what to say--for she had liked it--she had understood--and yet!---- It was bad enough to listen for a moment to Paul's approval when he came round, escorting Alice Woodward, who was wanted for the statue in "Winter's Tale." "You should be satisfied," he said with intent. "Personally I never saw it better done, on--or off the stage." But then a look at the girl's face drove him back quick as thought to the old Arcadian days when they had been so friendly. "I wish the whole business were over," he said sharply. "It's an awful nuisance, and you will all be dead tired to-morrow." "But Lord George will have his towel-horse again!" she answered, lightly turning to a current jest as a shelter from the sense of his thoughtfulness for her. "And there are but three more tableaux." "Three," he echoed; "there are only two on the programme."