A little storm of exclamations followed this speech. Then the silks began to rustle violently again, while the committee made a rush, and, with a confusion of whispers, diffused itself in the audience, which was soon enveloped in darkness. A bell tinkled; the dark curtain swept back, and through a screen of rose-colored gauze Ivanhoe and Rowena were seen surrounded with rich draperies, heavy carvings, and all the appointments of a feudal picture. Rowena was looking down overpowered by the love-light in Ivanhoe’s glance; a soft, rosy bloom lay on her cheek; a smile hovered about her lips; no flower ever drooped more modestly in the sunshine that brightened it. The young creature did not move, but you could see the slow heave and fall of her bosom. There was no acting there; the presence of love, pure and vital, made itself felt, though it might not have been thoroughly understood. Ivanhoe gazed down upon her with admiration, and it may be that more tender feelings called forth the bright smile on his face. But young Savage was thinking of the character he was to maintain—she was thinking only of him. A single minute this noble picture defined itself before the crowd; then the curtain fell, and all was dark again. The tableau was one which had been designed to repeat itself by a change of position in the characters. While the applause was loudest, and young Savage stood behind the curtain holding Georgie’s hand; while he described the position she was to assume, a rather impatient voice from behind the scenes called for Miss Halstead. The young lady, who was blushing and shrinking under the careless touch of his hand, ran out, and found one of the servant-girls in attendance, who said that she must come at once and speak with Mrs. Savage before the curtain rose again. Georgie followed the girl in haste, and the moment she disappeared a figure came out from one of the dark corners and entered upon the stage, which was but dimly lighted from behind the scenes. Savage saw the glitter of her dress, and without looking closer spoke in eager haste. “Just in time. They are getting impatient. There, stand there, with your head averted, as we arranged it: now your hand.” Savage dropped on one knee as he spoke, took the hand which dropped lovingly into his, and lifted his fine eyes to the but half averted face. A start, which brought him half up from his knees; a quick ringing of the bell, and every face in the audience was turned in amazement on Miss Eliza Halstead, whose tall, gaunt form was arrayed in blue satin, surmounted by a tunic of maize-colored velvet; a band of pointed gold girding her head like a coronet, and from under it flowed out a mass of dull brown curls, wonderful to behold. Her head was turned aside; one hand was half uplifted, as if to conceal the blushes that lay immovable on her cheeks; and a simper, which had a dash of malicious triumph in it, gave disagreeable life to her face.