with Claude, who found that he could not disarm him without exerting his utmost skill.

'Well, and what do you think of that?" asked Mrs. Fairfax, who stood beside Stella, watching the combatants.

Wonderful, most wonderful!"

“Mind over matter! You see which is victorious in an actor's life. Would a single individual in that audience believe, on hearsay, what we have just witnessed? Yet every theatre can afford instances of equal or more marvellous power of will."

The drama of the Lady of Lyons has been so pertinaciously hunted down by critics that there is no temptation to dwell upon its striking situations. The author has planned a series of prominent points, all as unmistakable as sign-posts on a turnpike; a succession of dramatic traps, in which the hands of audiences are invariably taken captive. These Stella could not miss. It was only in the fifth act that she rose above her author, and filled out and perfected his incomplete portraiture. The gorgeous garments with which Pauline had bedecked herself, in the days of her untamed pride, were exchanged for a white muslin robe, fastened with bunches of purple violets, the emblems of

mourning, and a few of these grief-betokening flowers were scattered among her dishevelled locks.

That Pauline could not recognize her husband, after an absence of two years, because he wore a mustache, was habited in a military dress, and his presence was unanticipated, seemed an improbability which Stella reconciled by never lifting her eyes from the ground, as she addressed him in heart

broken accents. And, when he spoke, her sobs drowned the tones of the loved and well-known voice.

That Pauline's confidential communication could have been made in a room occupied by her father, mother, affianced husband, the notary, etc., is an obvious absurdity when the words of the text are declaimed, according to custom, in an elevated tone. The credulity of the spectators is too largely drawn upon when they are required to believe that only two of the party present are not afflicted with deafness. But every word that Stella uttered was spoken in a whisper which, though distinct to the audience, conveyed the impression that it reached Claude's ear alone. Thus unwonted reality was imparted to a scene which, albeit touching and effective, offends against probability.

Stella's personation of the proud beauty was by no means faultless. It was occasionally marred by too rapid transitions, lacking artistic smoothness, an exuberance of gesticulation, an absence of repose, the inevitable failings of a novice. Yet her spontaneity, impulsive ardor, flexibility of features and motion, her sculpturesque grace, quickened that weather-dulled audience, and charmed them into forgetfulness of her shortcomings. The sovereignty of genius made its presence felt, and compelled homage even from her unwilling associates.

Stella's débût and second appearance had only been chronicled in the public journals by a few stereotyped phrases, emanating probably from the licensed puffer of the theatre; but now the clarion note of praise was loudly sounded. The press awoke from

its apathy; the tide of popular approval bore her aloft on its triumphant waves. The fickle public had already forgotten the worshipped Lydia Talbot, and with ready hands lifted a new idol upon her empty pedestal.

Stella began to taste the intoxicating sweetness of adulation that honeyed poison, so pernicious to the untried soul, so tasteless to the absorbed intellectual artist, when she becomes truly enamored of her vocation. Complimentary letters, poems, elaborate laudatory notices, daily greeted her eyes. At first she read them with avidity, and treasured them up with proud satisfaction. Of floral gifts she received almost hourly offerings; but her mind was so much engrossed by her professional duties that the flattering testimonials, which for a day enchanted by their novelty, quickly lost all value. Critiques and letters were glanced over, not read; bouquets consigned unexamined to Mattie's care; all flattering demonstrations were treated with strange ingratitude, but it was the ingratitude of a preoccupied mind, which had no leisure for thankfulness- a dangerous mental state, too surely developed by sudden and brilliant success, but oftentimes corrected by the vicissitudes to which the most favored artist is inevitably subjected, somewhat later in her career.

CHAPTER VII.

Miss Doran.

Cast of Evadne. Thunder and Pap.- Jealousy. First Rehearsal of the New Play. The Youthful Author and Actress. A Strange Phase of Professional Life. Pegasus Struggling with the Plough. Ruthless Suppression of Poetic Gems. Miss Doran's Comments upon the Neophytes.-First Entrance of Angry Passions into a Gentle Heart. A Decree of Providence, and its Object. Representation of Evadne. - Miss Doran's Persecutions of the Novice. Grand Climax of the Play. Miss Doran in the Hall of Statues. Her Cruel Plot. Bitterness of the Rival Actresses. The Poem. Revery of the Young Actress. Unconscious Betrayal of a Dawning Sentiment. - Night Vigils. - Palms of Honor for the Young Poet from the Hands of the Actress. Last Rehearsal of New Play. A Stronger Hope weighed against the Ambition of the Dramatist. Conspiracy of the The Wreath of White Roses.

Actors.

The New Drama Author behind the

Saved for a Time

performed. Action of the Play. The Scenes. The Play's Success in Peril. by Stella and Miss Doran. - Reëndangered by the Troubled Tragedian. Mrs. Pottle's Representation of Majesty. — Evidence of her Laudable Pursuits in the Green-Room. - Boisterous Merriment of the Audience. Inquiry of a Wag. Vagaries of Crestfallen Royalty. — Agonies of the Author. Mr. Doran's Admonition to his Daughter.—Mrs. Pottle's Conflagration. — Panic and General Confusion. — Queries of the Manager. A Ludicrous Discovery. Unfortunate Mrs. Pottle.-The Play's Unanticipated Termination.—A Friend's Advice to the Author. His Flight. The Young Actress at her Chamber Window. A Recognition.

THE Cast of Evadne was as follows: Mr. Tennent personated the noble Colonna, brother of Evadne;

Mr. Swain enacted the lover, Vicentio; Mr. Belton indulged the audience with an amiable and irresistibly comic assumption of the licentious and remorseless villain Ludovico; Mr. Conklin assumed the weakminded king; Stella was Evadne; Miss Doran embodied Olivia, the false friend, who

"meanly crept

Into Evadne's soft and trusting heart,

And coiled herself around her."

This young lady was bred to the stage, and had been carefully instructed by her father, the "second old. man" of the theatre, in all its conventionalities. Her familiarity with traditional "stage business " almost supplied the place of talent. Her acting was bold and melodramatic, but lacked delicacy of conception. She was often boisterous, never intense. The impress of a reflecting mind was wanting throughout all her personations. A caustic critic once designated her performances as "a mingling, in equal portions, of thunder and pap." Her personal attractions inclined to the Amazonian order, but she possessed in a high degree all the physical elements. of beauty. An effective piece of scene-painting contrasted with a finely-executed portrait in oil, would have aptly illustrated the distinctive styles of Stella and Miss Doran.

When the two young girls (they were about the same age) met at rehearsal, the petty envy of a narrow mind betrayed itself in Miss Doran's manner. She treated the "novice" with supreme scorn, seldom deigning to reply to her remarks, and never losing an opportunity of shrugging her shoulders, and indulging in a short, derisive laugh, if Stella appealed