  If Edith had not come upstairs to see what kept Una dressing so long, they would have forgotten all about the theater-party in their absorption of each other. As it was, they started apart in surprise when she came softly in. "Oh, Eliot, I did not know you were here," she said, drawing back. "Come in, Edith, and congratulate us," he said, drawing Una to his side again. "We have just found out that we are in love with each other." "Every one else knew that ages ago," replied the saucy girl, laughing. But she kissed both with a great amount of girlish fervor, and to hide her emotion, exclaimed: "The carriages are waiting, and Sylvie is fuming with impatience, so you had better bring your bride down-stairs, Eliot." They went down together, and when the spiteful Sylvie saw the two handsome, happy faces, she was more vexed than if Una had indeed been covered with diamonds, as she had spitefully said. She could not help seeing that a reconciliation had taken place between the two, and felt instinctively that her cruel revelation to Una had precipitated the understanding it was intended to avert. But she could not avoid one poisoned shaft of malice at the happy girl, and so, with a sneer, she exclaimed: "Dear me! Una still posing as a bride at this late day? Your wedding-day must have been a very happy one, since you love to recall it so well." No one replied to the impertinent speech, for all, even Bryant, understood its spleen. Una only shrunk closer to her husband, and they went out to the carriages that were waiting to convey them to the theater. Two boxes had been taken for the evening, and there were twelve in the party, including the two ladies and three gentlemen that Sylvie had invited. Una was very glad that Sylvie and Ida did not come into the same box with herself and Eliot. Their cold, sneering looks made her shiver and feel unhappy, so she was glad when she found Maud and Edith with one other young lady and one gentleman as the evening's companions. The house was full, and the curtain had risen on the first act—a brilliant scene with a fine setting. Mme. Leonie had not made her appearance yet, and the audience felt at liberty to turn a good many curious lorgnettes upon the handsome theater-party. Una, all in white, with her waving golden hair, red lips, and large dark eyes, immediately fixed attention. The murmur ran from lip to lip: "A bride—a bride!" Eliot saw what a sensation her beauty was creating, and smiled in pride; but Una was too innocent to comprehend the truth. In fact, she scarcely looked at the audience. Her eager eyes intently watched the stage. She was anxious to see the great actress of whom the newspapers spoke in such lavish praise. So, while the adoring young husband by her side kept his fond eyes on her face, Una watched the stage, and her eagerness was soon rewarded by a sight of Mme. Leonie. Mme. Leonie was tall, beautiful, stately, and the black velvet robe, starred with diamonds, in which she was assaying a queenly rÔle, became her well. Una gave a little gasp of honest admiration. Mme. Leonie's voice rose on the air clear, sweet, shrill, and Eliot Van Zandt turned with a quick start toward the stage. At the same moment, he became aware that Una's little hand had clutched tightly, spasmodically around his arm. He looked into her face. Its usual pure, creamy pallor had deepened to ashy whiteness, her dark eyes were wild and frightened. "Una!" "Oh, Eliot, look!" she whispered, tremblingly. "It is she—Madame Lorraine!" He turned his eyes to the stage, from which, a moment ago, that voice had given him such a start. Yes, Una was right. There she stood—the beautiful, cruel woman who had doomed him to such an awful fate; |
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