‘That is impossible, or, if it were possible, you would never, without proof, believe it. I must begin at the beginning. You know what happened to-night—the failure of the play; the peril only just averted, that threatened your uncle and yourself.’ Margaret shook her head, not so much in denial as in indifference. ‘What mattered anything that had threatened herself, even though the menace had been carried out?’ ‘Is it possible that you are unaware of your escape to-night? How the rioters, led by an enemy of you and yours, were rushing to your box, when some young fellow threw himself between it and them; how he seized their leader by the throat, at risk of his own life, and threw him down the stairs, and how all the rest of them came tumbling after him?’ If the actress hoped to lead her companion’s mind into other channels, to interest her for one instant in any subject save that supreme one in which her whole soul was wrapped, her endeavour failed. ‘But Willie?’ murmured Margaret impatiently. ‘Why do you speak of anything save Willie?’ ‘That will come soon enough. Too soon, dear girl. I must needs tell you it as it all happened. He was behind the scenes, you know, throughout the evening. At first, things seemed to be going pretty well in spite of the opposition; but he was never very hopeful, even then, as he afterwards told me. The greatness of the reward which would be his in case of the success of the play—that is, his claiming you for his own—oppressed him; it seemed too high a fortune even though he had felt himself to be deserving of it.’ ‘He _is_ deserving of it, and of better fortune,’ put in Margaret quietly. Mrs. Jordan took no notice of the interruption. ‘He seemed depressed and downhearted from the first,’ she continued, ‘though Mrs. Powell and myself said all we could to encourage him. Presently, amid the tempest of disapprobation, he recognised a particular voice—the voice of an enemy; of the same person, I have no doubt, who urged on the mob to your box. From that moment he seemed to give up all hope. “That man is come to ruin me!“ he said; and he spoke the truth.’ ‘It was Reginald Talbot,’ exclaimed Margaret suddenly. ‘Frank always warned Willie against him. The vile, treacherous wretch!’ ‘Yes, it was Reginald Talbot—a base creature enough, no doubt; but honest people, Margaret, are not ruined by anything the base can say or shout. We must be base ourselves to enable them to ruin us.’ Margaret rose from her chair. ‘I do not understand you, Mrs. Jordan. I thought that you were speaking of my Willie.’ ‘Listen, Margaret. Keep calm and listen; I would give half of what I have in the world to spare you, but it must be told.’ ‘I will hear no evil of Willie.’