"I thought of her as my good angel. Those words which she said to me--"

"She has been your good angel, and I--"

"Ella, Ella, she has been our good angel--you said so."

"And don't you think that I meant it? Some women--she is one of them-- are born to lead men upward; others---- Ah, there, it is on the stage: /Carmen/, the enchantress, /Michaela/, the good angel. But I am so glad! She is coming to stay with us up the river; you must be with us too. You cannot possibly know her yet. But a week by her side--you will, I know, come to perceive what she is--the sweetest--the most perfect!"

Still he made no reply. He was looking earnestly at the conductor, who was pulling his musicians together for the second act.

"You will come to us, Bertie?" she whispered.

"I dare not promise," said he. "I feel just now like a man who is still dazed, on being suddenly awakened. I have not yet begun to see things as they are. I am not sure of myself. I will let you know later on."

Then the conductor tapped his desk, and those of the audience who had left their places returned. Stephen Linton slipped into his chair; his wife took up her lorgnette as the first jingle of the tambourines was heard, and the curtain rose upon the picturesque tawdriness of the company assembled at the /Senor Lois Pastia's/ place of entertainment.