I had a premonition one evening that his intentions toward Evelyn were then to take some decisive expression. I left my solitary study, of which I have before spoken, and, going home, entered the house softly, and directed my steps towards our theatrical apartment. My confidence in Evelyn was unbounded, but I wished to witness the apprehended collision. Stealing behind the scenery, I saw Evelyn sitting on the stage, with cold and erect pride,--which was yet free from affectation,--and Sefton standing before her, having evidently just concluded speaking. 'So, sir,' she said, 'I have heard you without interruption. But the character you rehearse is inappropriate. You forget that we are now concerned with a piece representing the tribulations of a faithful wife, and not a comedy of the school of Charles the Second. I see that you are sincere; but sincerity renders a bad passion the more hateful. Now leave me. For your own contentment crush it. If this is impossible, conceal it. Should you ever again intimate it by even a glance, I will expel you from my society as I would a viper.' 'Madam,' he gasped forth in suppressed rage, 'I understand you. You shall also understand me, if you now do not. I will reduce your haughty pride. Of this be assured. You play well the _role_ of the faithful wife, but I will not do you the injustice of supposing that it is through any regard for him on whose behalf you assume it.' He would have said more, but Evelyn sprang up, her eyes flashing, and, seizing a dagger which lay on a table among other 'properties,' exclaimed,-- 'Begone, sir, or you shall find me an actress who can perform a terrible reality.' She advanced toward him, and he turned away, passing out slowly, cowed, but not vanquished. I could see that he was determined to become her master, though it cost him all that he had invested in ambition, honor, and life. She flung down the dagger, paused till he was out of the house, and then went to her rooms. I emerged from my hiding-place, laughing and sobbing hysterically,--rejoicing over my glorious Evelyn, and bewailing that she was not in truth mine.