“Has he paid you to sing his praises?” asks Florence, with a little laugh; but her words so nearly hit the mark that Dora blushes painfully.

“I mean,” she explains at last, in a rather hurried way, “that I do not think it is good form to single out any one in a household where one is a guest to show him pointed rudeness.  You give all the others acting in this play ample opportunities of rehearsing alone with you.  It has been remarked to me by two or three that you purposely slight and avoid Mr. Dynecourt.”

“So I do,” Florence admits calmly; adding, “Your two or three have great perspicacity.”

“They even hinted to me,” Dora goes on deliberately, “that your dislike to him arose from the fact that you were piqued at his being your stage lover, instead of—­Sir Adrian!”

It costs her an effort to utter these words, but the effect produced by them is worth the effort.

Florence, growing deadly pale, releases her hair from her cousin’s grasp, and rises quickly to her feet.

“I don’t know who your gossips may be,” she says slowly; “but they are wrong—­quite wrong—­do you hear?  My dislike to Mr. Dynecourt arises from very different feelings.  He is distasteful to me in many ways; but, as I am undesirous that my manner should give occasion for surmises such as you have just mentioned to me, I will give him an opportunity of reciting his part to me, alone, as soon as ever he wishes.”

“I think you are right, dearest,” responds Mrs. Talbot sweetly.  She is a little afraid of her cousin, but still maintains her position bravely.  “It is always a mark of folly to defy public opinion.  Do not wait for him to ask you again to go through your play with him alone, but tell him yourself to-morrow that you will meet him for that purpose in the north gallery some time during the day.”

“Very well,” says Florence; but her face still betrays dislike and disinclination to the course recommended.  “And, Dora, I don’t think I want my hair brushed any more, thanks; my head is aching so dreadfully.”

This is a hint that she will be glad of Mrs. Talbot’s speedy departure; and, that lady taking the hint, Florence is soon left to her own thoughts.

The next morning, directly after breakfast, she finds an opportunity to tell Mr. Dynecourt that she will give him half an hour in the north gallery to try over his part with her, as she considers it will be better, and more conducive to the smoothness of the piece, to learn any little mannerisms that may belong to either of them.

To this speech Dynecourt makes a suitable reply, and names a particular hour for them to meet.  Miss Delmaine, having given a grave assent to this arrangement, moves away, as though glad to be rid of her companion.

A few minutes afterward Dynecourt, meeting Mrs. Talbot in the hall, gives her an expressive glance, and tells her in a low voice that he considers himself deeply in her debt.