A renewed alarm calls the knight away, leaving the beggar thrumming his lute. The princess reappears to the dimming of lights and the twinkle in the blue background of the first tremulous star. The beggar, who of course is the enemy prince in disguise, springs forward as she slips out of her cloak and stands forth in a flowing robe in shimmering white. Her interchange with the beggar passes swiftly from surprise, indifference, scorn, to awakened interest and encouragement. No theatre was ever stilled to an intenser silence. The audacity of it, the folly of it! The pictorial beauty of the scene, any merit it possessed as drama, were lost in the fact that George Whitford was making love to Constance Mills. No make-believe could have simulated the passion of his wooing in the lines that he had written for himself, and no response could have been informed with more tenderness and charm than Constance brought to her part. Whitford was declaiming: “My flower! My light, my life! I offer thee Not jingling coin, nor lands, nor palaces, But yonder stars, and the young moon of spring, And rosy dawns and purple twilights long; All singing streams, and their great lord the sea-- With these I’d thee endow.” And Constance, slowly lifting her head, an enthralling picture of young trusting love, replied: “I am a beggar in my heart! My soul hath need of thee! Teach me thy ways, And make me partner in thy wanderings, And lead me to the silver springs of song, I would be free as thou art, roam the world, Away from clanging war, by murmuring streams, Through green cool woodlands sweet with peace and love.... Wilt thou be faithful, wilt thou love me long?” To her tremulous pleading he pledged his fealty and when he had taken her into his arms and kissed her they exited slowly. As they passed from sight his voice was heard singing as the curtain fell. The entire cast paraded in response to the vociferous and long continued applause, and Whitford and Constance bowed their acknowledgments together and singly. Cries of “author” detained Whitford for a speech, in which he chaffed himself and promised that in appreciation of their forbearance in allowing him to present so unworthy a trifle, which derived its only value from the intelligence and talent of his associates, he would never again tax their patience. As the lights went up Bruce, turning to his companions, saw that Shepherd was staring at the stage as though the players were still visible. Helen, too, noticed the tense look in Shep’s face, and touched him lightly on the arm. He came to with a start and looked about quickly, as if conscious that his deep preoccupation had been observed. “It was perfectly marvelous, Shep! Connie was never so beautiful, and she did her part wonderfully!” “Yes; Connie was fine! They were all splendid!” Shep stammered.