He drew a long breath as he leaned over the balustrade, and his brain cleared somewhat.
“If Lady Grace is reading my thoughts at this present moment,” he murmured, “she’ll know I’m thinking of that train still! Yes, I’ll be off the first thing to-morrow morning!”
And with this firm resolution he turned to go back to the house. As he did so, something white fluttered past him, blown by the faint night breeze.
He stooped and picked it up, and absently glanced at it by the light from the window. It was a small hand-bill, having on it in red letters:
Theatre Royal, Barton.
“Romeo and Juliet.”
“Romeo and Juliet!” It was that she had been reading by the brook. Instantly her lovely face rose before him, and dispelled all memory of the events of the night. He stood, looking down at the paper dreamily, wistfully,—seeing, not it, but the dark hair and blue eyes of the girl who had bent over him, whose hands his lips had touched.
“No!” he said, with a sharp sigh; “no, I can’t go, for she is somewhere here, and I must find her!”
CHAPTER V.
AN IDEAL JULIET.
The hour was approaching. Doris, still in her hat and jacket, sat in the tiny apartment behind the stage which served as her dressing-room. She was paler than usual, and her eyes looked of a deeper and darker blue than usual; but she was calm, with a calm which Jeffrey could not attain to.