A sudden wave of crimson surged into her face as she silently put the letters into Mr. Manning’s hand, and watched his grave, fixed, undemonstrative features, while he read, refolded, and returned them to her.

“Miss Earl, I have received several documents of a similar character asking for your address.  Do you still desire to write incognito, or do you wish your name given to your admirers?”

“That is a matter which I am willing to leave to your superior judgment.”

“Pardon me, but I much prefer that you determine it for yourself.”

“Then you may give my name to those who are sufficiently interested in me to write and make the inquiry.”

Mr. Manning smiled slightly, and lowered his voice as he said: 

“Sir Roger Percival came here to-night to be introduced to you.  He has expressed much curiosity to see the author of the last article which you contributed to the magazine; and I told him that you would be in my box this evening.  Shall I present him now?”

Mr. Manning was rising, but Edna put her hand on his arm, and answered hurriedly: 

“No, no!  He is engaged in conversation with Mrs. Andrews, and, moreover, I believe I do not particularly desire to be presented to him.”

“Here comes your friend; I will vacate this seat in his favor.”

He rose, bowed to Gordon Leigh, and gave him the chair which he had occupied.

“Edna! how I have longed to see you once more!”

Gordon’s hand seized hers, and his handsome face was eloquent with feelings which he felt no inclination to conceal.

“The sight of your countenance is an unexpected pleasure in New York.  Mr. Leigh, when did you arrive?”

“This afternoon.  Mr. Hammond gave me your address, and I called to see you, but was told that you were here.”

“How are they all at home?”

“Do you mean at Le Bocage or the Parsonage?”

“I mean how are all my friends?”

“Mrs. Murray is very well, Miss Estelle, ditto.  Mr. Hammond has been sick, but was better and able to preach before I left.  I brought a letter for you from him, but unfortunately left it in the pocket of my travelling coat.  Edna, you have changed very much since I saw you last.”

“In what respect, Mr. Leigh?”

The crash of the orchestra filled the house, and people turned once more to the stage.  Standing with his arms folded, Mr. Manning saw the earnest look on Gordon’s face as, with his arm resting on the back of Edna’s chair, he talked in a low, eager tone; and a pitying smile partly curved the editor’s granite mouth as he noticed the expression of pain on the girl’s face, and heard her say coldly: 

“No, Mr. Leigh; what I told you then I repeat now.  Time has made no change.”

The opera ended, the curtain fell, and an enthusiastic audience called out the popular prima donna.

While bouquets were showered upon her, Mr. Manning stooped and put his hand on Edna’s: