The Press., 1888-03-22
CHAPTER, ".

It is the evening of the theatricals; and in one of the larger draWing-roOms at the castle, where the stage has been erected, and also in another room be- hind connected with it by folding doors, everybody of note in the county is already assembled. Fans are fiutter- ing-sO are many hearts behind the scenes-and low buzz of converse tion is being carried on among the con- pany.
 Then the curtain rises; the fans stop rustling, the conversation ceases, and all faces$urn curiOuSly to the small but perfect stage that the London work men have erected.
 Every one is very anxious to see what his or her neighbor is going to do when brought before a critical audience. No body, of course, hopes, openly for breakdown, but secretly there are a few who would be glad to see such-and- such ones pride lowered.
 No miSchance, however, occurs. The insipid Tony speaks his lines perfectly, if he fails to grasp the idea that little acting thrown ill would be an improve ment; very charming cousin Con is made out of Miss Villiers; rather stilted but strictly correct old lady out of Lady Gertrude Vining. But Flor ence Delmaine, as Kate Hardcastle,
 
 are the complimentary speeches uttered from time to time by the audience. Arthur Dynecourt too had not over- praised his own powers. It is palpable to every one that he has often trod the boards, and the pathOs he throws into his performance aStOnishes the au- dience. Is it only acting in the final scene when he makes love to Miss Hardcastle, or is there some real senti- ment in it?
 The question arises in many breasts. They note how his color changes as he takes her hand, how his voice trembles; they notice too how she grows cold, in spite of her desire to carry out her part to the end, as he grows warmer, and how instinctively she shrinks from his touch. Then it is all over, and the cur- tain falls amidst loud applause. Flor ence comes before the curtain in re- sponse to frequent calls, gracefully, half reluctantly, with soft warm blush upon her cheeks and light in her eyes that renders her remarkable loVelinesS only more apparent. Sir Adrian, watching her with a heart faint and cold with grief and disappointment, ac- knoWledges sadly to himself that never advances and bows to the audience, and only loses her self-possessiOn 8 very little when bouquet directed at her feet by an enthusiastic young man alights upon her shoulder instead. .
 Arthur DynecOurt, who has accom- panied her to the fOotlights, and who joins in her triumph, picks up the bou- quet and presents it to her.
 As he does so the audience again be- comes aware that she receives it from him in a spirit that suggests detesta- tion of the one that hands it, and that her smile withers as she does so, and her great eyes lose their happy light of a moment before.
 Sir Adrian sees all this too, but pef- suades himself that she is now acting another part-the part shown him by Mrs. Talbot. His eyes are blinded by jealousy; he can not see the purity and truth reflected in hers; he miscOnstrues the pained expression that Of late has saddened her face. .
 For the last few days, ever since her momentouS interview with Arthur Dynecourt in the gallery, she has been timid and reserved with Sir Adrian and has endeavored to avoid his socie- ty. She is oppressed with the thought | that he has read her secret love for hin and seeks, by an assumed coldness of demeanor and studied avoidance O1 him, to induce him to believe himself mistaken. .... ...s=. ea5 ..sy--
 But Sir Adrian is only rendered more miserable by this avoidance, in the thought that probably Mrs. Talbot hal told Florence of his discovery of hel attachment to Arthur. and that Shl dreadS his taxing her with Ter duplici