Her desperate courage began to give way as she saw herself hemmed in by the crowd, and the impulse seized her to fly; but she beat it bravely back, for already silver coins began to rain into the small, white, outstretched hand that seemed so ridiculously dainty and aristocratic for a street beggar. "Jove! what a regular beauty!" one man whispered to another, as he gazed eagerly into the sweet, flower-like face. She heard him, and her voice shook with indignation, but she kept on, holding fast meanwhile to her earnings, determined that no bold thief should capture them this time. Suddenly she became aware that the crowd's attention was being diverted from her, and resolved to escape at this auspicious moment. The fact was that the popular actor, Ralph Chainey, who had just carried staid Philadelphia by storm in his popular impersonation of Prince Karl, was just leaving the theater for his hotel, and almost every one turned away from the beautiful singer for a glimpse of the tall, dark, handsome young fellow, with his swinging stride, as he came among them. He, on his part, had been standing back a little, arrested, like the others, by that sweet, sad, thrilling song. As it neared the end, he pressed forward to make a generous contribution to pay for his share in the rare entertainment. The crowd fell back and made way for him, and Kathleen, dreaming not of the nearness of the lover who haunted all her thoughts, started to fly. Ralph Chainey had not yet seen her face, but he hurried in pursuit of the slight cloaked figure, generously anxious that she should not lose the money he was going to bestow on her for the song. The crowd began to disperse, and Kathleen, unconscious of pursuit, ran half a square, then slackened her pace. So it was that Ralph Chainey caught up with her, and laid a strong, detaining hand upon her arm. With a low moan of terror Kathleen raised her beautiful, frightened dark eyes to the face of her assailant. For a moment they gazed, spell-bound, into each other's eyes. To both it seemed like the shock of a life-time--that sudden _rencontre_; and to the man it was more startling then to the girl, for he had long sorrowed over the fate of Kathleen Carew, believing her dead. Yet here stood this slight girl whose voice had so thrilled him a few minutes ago gazing at him with Kathleen Carew's eyes, looking out of Kathleen Carew's face. Was she ghost or human? Was she a phantom of his brain, this slight, pale girl? He had thought of her so often, he had mourned her so passionately, that perhaps his brain was distraught--perhaps the vision was the figment of a mind diseased. But suddenly the moan died away on the sweet, red lips; the hunted look faded from the somber dark eyes and was succeeded by a look of joy as she faltered: "Ralph Chainey!"