“You are a strange child to talk so, when you have turned everybody’s head,” responded Madame.

“Why should I care for everybody’s head?” rejoined the successful cantatrice.  But she thought to herself:  “I shall not feel, as I did last night, that I am going to sing merely to strangers.  There will be one there who heard me sing to my dear father.  I must try to recall the intonations that came so naturally last evening, and see whether I can act what I then felt.”  She seated herself at the piano, and began to sing, “Oh, di qual sei tu vittima.”  Then, shaking her head slowly, she murmured:  “No; it doesn’t come.  I must trust to the inspiration of the moment.  But it is a comfort to know they will not all be strangers.”

* * * * *

Mr. King took an opportunity that same day to call on Mr. Fitzgerald.  He was very haughtily received; but, without appearing to notice it, he opened his errand by saying, “I have come to speak with you concerning Miss Royal.”

“All I have to say to you, sir,” replied Mr. Fitzgerald, “is, that neither you nor any other man can induce me to give up my pursuit of her.  I will follow her wherever she goes.”

“What possible advantage can you gain by such a course?” inquired his visitor.  “Why uselessly expose yourself to disagreeable notoriety, which must, of course, place Mrs. Fitzgerald in a mortifying position?”

“How do you know my perseverance would be useless?” asked Fitzgerald.  “Did she send you to tell me so?”

“She does not know of my coming,” replied Mr. King.  “I have told you that my acquaintance with Miss Royal is very slight.  But you will recollect that I met her in the freshness of her young life, when she was surrounded by all the ease and elegance that a father’s wealth and tenderness could bestow; and it was unavoidable that her subsequent misfortunes should excite my sympathy.  She has never told me anything of her own history, but from others I know all the particulars.  It is not my purpose to allude to them; but after suffering all she has suffered, now that she has bravely made a standing-place for herself, and has such an arduous career before her, I appeal to your sense of honor, whether it is generous, whether it is manly, to do anything that will increase the difficulties of her position.”

“It is presumptuous in you, sir, to come here to teach me what is manly,” rejoined Fitzgerald.

“I merely presented the case for the verdict of your own conscience,” answered his visitor; “but I will again take the liberty to suggest for your consideration, that if you persecute this unfortunate young lady with professions you know are unwelcome, it must necessarily react in a very unpleasant way upon your own reputation, and consequently upon the happiness of your family.”

“You mistook your profession, sir.  You should have been a preacher,” said Fitzgerald, with a sarcastic smile.  “I presume you propose to console the lady for her misfortunes; but let me tell you, sir, that whoever attempts to come between me and her will do it at his peril.”