Una forced a smile of meek acquiescence. She said to herself that she could not let her splendid young husband know what a little coward she was, and how she feared her old tyrant and enemy.
At the close of the third act Eliot said, eagerly:
"Will you let me have your bouquet, Una? To-morrow I will bring you a sweeter one."
With secret reluctance she let him have it. He wrote hurriedly a few words on a card and attached it to the flowers.
Una looked over his shoulder. She read:
"Compliments of Eliot Van Zandt and his bride, the 'Little Nobody.'"
"Oh!" the girl cried, with a shiver; but Eliot had already thrown it upon the stage at the feet of the tragedy queen, who was bowing and smiling in response to an enthusiastic recall.
Among a dozen floral tributes she saw that pure, white, bride-like one flung from the opera-box. She took it up, lifted it to her lips, and bowed, then scanned the name written on the card, while Eliot watched her with a triumphant smile, Una with nameless fear.
Eliot was quite curious to note what effect that startling card would have upon the wicked actress. It seemed to him that she would be stunned, that she would fall to the floor in abject terror, crying out for mercy from him she had wronged.
Una, too, expected every instant that she would fall down unconscious, overcome by fear and anger.