"Is it your leg pains, father, or is your head worse?"
"Both, child; but my heart pains most. I am fallen very low, Norah, and there is nothing but misery before us. Child! what will you do when I am gone?"
Norah shook her head.
"We will not talk of that, father. You will get well, and then you will act Hamlet again, and——"
"Never! The blow to my head has clean taken away my memory. 'To be or not to be!'"—then followed a harsh laugh—"I could not get the next line to save my life! But, Norah, it is your condition which eats like a canker into my heart. You spoke of a kind gentleman and a beautiful lady yesterday, who did not spurn you. Find them again, implore them to come here, and I will move their very heart to pity by the tale of my sorrows! They will, sure, put out a hand to you."
"The lady was beautiful as an angel, father; but I don't think grand folks like her will care for us. But," she said, brightening, "I shall get some money for this job Mrs. Betts gave me; and I am to go to the green-room and help the ladies to dress."
"No!" the man said, his eyes flashing—"No! I command you not to enter the theatre! Do you hear?"
The child knew when her father's dark eyes flashed like that, and he spoke in the tones of tragedy, that remonstrance was useless; and the doctor said he was never to be excited or contradicted, or he might lose his senses altogether.
"As you please, father," Norah said meekly, and then returned to her needlework; and the heavy breathing in the corner where the bed was placed told that her father slept.
About noon there was a sound of feet on the stairs, and a tap at the door, and a curly head was thrust in. Norah held up her finger and pointed to the bed, but said in a low whisper: