perils on land, or mountains, or by sea, and from thence to deeds, discoveries, and crimes unforeseen and unpremeditated, so she seemed borne along into a whirlpool of feelings which chilled the better impulses of her nature and accentuated, with acid and fire, every elementary instinct. Animal powers and spiritual tendencies alike were concentrated into one absorbing passion which reasoned only in delirium, incoherently, without issue. She was wretched in Orange's company because every moment so spent showed her that his heart was fixed far indeed from her. But the wretchedness suffered that way was stifled in the torments she endured when she wondered, miserably, in loneliness, what he was thinking, doing, saying; where he was, with whom he was, and how he was. The despair of unrequited love was thrice intensified by jealousy. "Why did he like that little adventuress, that white china Rahab?" she asked herself again and again. "It is just because she has bewitched him. It is not real love--it isn't any kind of love. She cannot care for him as I do. It isn't in her. O why, why does he fight so hard against me?" Beautiful women seldom believe that their charms can be resisted without a fierce struggle. It was, in fact, a tranquil consciousness of beauty which gave audacity to Sara's words, and put the ordinary question of pride out of the question. Was it not rather a case of the goddess putting on humanity, of the queen condescending to a subject. _La reine s'amuse_ was the unuttered, constant motto on her heart of hearts. The blood of Asiatic princes ran in her veins, and a sovereign contempt for manners, as opposed to passions and self-will, ruled her fierce spirit. But what should she do? A moment's reflection had shown her that Brigit could have no difficulty in proving that she was not the mysterious lady who visited Orange's lodgings. Having weighed all the disadvantages, Sara now directed her attention to the advantages she could snatch out of the dilemma. At last she hit on a bold plan. She rang a bell and a housemaid answered the summons. "Is Mrs. Parflete in her bedroom?" asked Lady Sara; "and where is her bedroom?" "Her bedroom is next to yours, my lady. She is in there now." "Thank you." Sara walked along the corridor till she reached an oak door on which was a card bearing the name she sought. She tapped, and heard Brigit herself reply-- "Come in." The young actress was lying, in a black silk dressing-gown, on the sofa. Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and she had evidently been fast asleep, for her cheeks were less pale than usual, her eyes were bright, and the happiness of some pleasant dream still lingered in their expression. "Lady Sara--how good of you to come!" she exclaimed; "I have been trying to rest. I want to play well this evening."