"Thank me, Richard!" exclaimed the young actress, partially recovering from the almost overwhelming state of alarm into which the sudden apparition of Markham had thrown her: "why should you thank me?"
"Thank you, Ellen—Oh! how can I do otherwise than thank you?" said Markham. "You have carried my tragedy through the ordeal—"
"Your tragedy, Richard?" cried Miss Monroe more and more bewildered.
"Yes, my tragedy, Ellen—it is mine! But, ah! there is a call for you—"
A moment's silence had succeeded the flattering expression of public opinion which arose at the termination of the performance; and then arose a loud cry for Selina Fitzherbert.
This was followed by a call for the author, and then a thousand voices ejaculated—"Selina Fitzherbert and the Author! Let them come together!"
The manager now hastened up to the place where Ellen and Richard were standing, and where the above hurried words had been exchanged between them.
"You must go forward, Miss Fitzherbert—and you too, Mr. Preston—"
Ellen glanced with an arch smile towards Richard, as much as to say, "You also have taken an assumed name."
Markham begged and implored the manager not to force him upon the stage;—but the call for "Selina Fitzherbert and the Author" was peremptory; and the "gods" were growing clamorous.