“There is the Count,” whispered Rayel, directing my attention to the opposite box. The diabolical little Frenchman was there, sure enough, sitting next to the rail, and sweeping the audience with his opera-glasses. Soon the curtain was rung up and the rehearsal began which was to test the powers of the venturesome young lady. Suddenly she appears at the rear of the stage dressed for her part in Elizabethan costume. She is greeted with loud applause, and she stands a moment, waiting for silence. The lights have been turned down and I cannot see her face distinctly. Before the last ripple of applause is quieted, she advances down the centre of the stage and begins to speak her lines. That voice! What is there in it that thrills me so strangely? When she ceases speaking she is standing almost within reach of my hand. Suddenly her eyes meet mine and I see Hester Chaffin standing there on the stage and looking into my face. She recognizes me, for she seems confused and proceeds with evident embarrassment. I turned to Rayel--he, too, was deeply moved by this great surprise. “Our woman has come to life,” said he, in tremulous whispers. “I knew we would see her sometime.” How she had changed! She was little more than a child when I saw her last: now she was almost a woman, but not more beautiful than when I bade her good-by in the moonlight at her father's gate--long, long ago, it seemed to me now. Was the scene I had witnessed a passage in her own life since I had left Liverpool? At the close of the act an usher carried my card to her. Presently I was summoned to one of the corridors where a lady was waiting for me. “Is this Kendric Lane?” she asked, extending her hand. “It is,” I responded. “I have heard of you often. Miss Bronson is an old acquaintance of yours, whom you knew as Hester Chaffin. Would you like to see her?” “I wish to see her to-night, if possible,” said I. “May I ask you, then, to go to this address and wait for us until the performance is over? Hand this card to the night clerk of the hotel and he will show you to our rooms.” Scribbling a few words upon the card, she gave it to me, and hurried behind the scenes. Rayel and I immediately left the theatre and walked to our apartments. The play would soon be over and we had no time to lose. On the way home I noticed that he frequently turned about and peered through the darkness as if expecting some one to join us. He said nothing, however, and as I was so preoccupied by my own thoughts, I did not ask for whom he was looking. “Shall I not go with you?” he asked, when we had reached home. “You had better wait up for me; I shall not be gone long,” I answered. “I can walk back again when we get there, or perhaps I can wait for you in the hotel?” said he.