For the second time to-day her early years came back to her; the voice had in it all those hours when someone's tenderness had made Life worth living. "Life is immortal," it cried. "And I am immortal, for I am Love and Charity, and, whatever the wise ones may tell you, I cannot die." She felt again the space and the silence and the snow, but now with no alarm, only utter reassurance. And the cage swung up and up and there were now only the stars and the wind around and about them. Then, in an instant of time, the cage, with a crash, was upon the ground. Across her world had cut Lady Carloes' voice--"Oh yes, and there's Lord Crewner--no, not in that row--the one behind--next that woman with the silver thing in her hair--four from the end----" And Roddy Seddon's voice--"Yes, I see him. Who's he got with him?" Lady Carloes again: "I can't quite see--Miss Mendle as likely as not.... You know, old Aggie Mendle's daughter...." Rachel felt in that moment that murder was assuredly no crime. Her hands shook on her lap and one of those passions, that she had not known for many months, caught her so that she could have torn Lardy Carloes' hair from her head had the chairs been happily arranged. Fortunately the interruption had been accompanied by Beckmesser's entrance: that other voice was, for the moment, still. Then, as Sachs caught up Beckmesser's serenade, there came again: "Well, of course if you can't go that week-end I dare say she'll give you another. Only I know she's settling her dates now." "Yes, but it's a bore havin' to fix up such a long way ahead and you don't know what old stumers you mayn't be boxed up with----" Oh! It was abominable! She had been seeing a great deal of Roddy during these last weeks, and ever since that visit to Uncle Richard she had been conscious of an intimacy that she had certainly not resented. But any favour that he may have had with her was certainly now forfeited. His voice was again superior to Beckmesser: "And so of course I said that if they _would_ go to such shockin' rot I wasn't goin' to waste my evenin's----" She pushed her chair back against his knees: "Beg pardon, Miss Beaminster, afraid I jolted you----" "Oh! Keep quiet! Keep quiet!" Her whisper was so urgent, so packed with irritation that instantly there was, in the box, the deepest of silences. She sat forward again, anger choking her: she could not recover any illusion. She hated him, _hated_ him! The crowd came on with a whirl. Then there was that last moment when the old watchman cries to the genial moon and the silvered roofs. Then the curtain fell. Without a word, her face white, her hands still trembling, she rose to leave the box. She passed out into the passage and found that Roddy was by her side. "I say, Miss Beaminster, I am most awfully sorry, most awfully. I hadn't any idea, really, that I was kickin' up that row. I could have hit myself."