Doctor Blecker looked at her, unsmiling, critical. She could see, too, a strange face beside him,—a motherly, but a keen, harsh-judging face.
"Grey," said Mrs. Sheppard, "I wish we could go behind the scenes. Can we? I want to talk to Lizzy this minute."
"To tell her she is at the Devil's work, Mrs. Sheppard, eh?"
Doctor Blecker pulled at his beard, angrily.
"Suppose you and I let her alone. We don't understand her."
"I think I do. God help her!"
"We will go round when the song is over," said Grey, gently.
Lizzy, scanning their faces, scanning every face in pit or boxes, discerned a good will and wish on each. Something wholesome and sound in her heart received it, half afraid.
"I don't know," she thought.
One of the windows was open, and out beyond the gas-light and smells of the theatre she could see a glimpse of far space, with the eternal stars shining. There had been once a man who loved her: he, looking down, could see her now. If she had stayed at home, selfish and useless, there might have been a chance for her yonder.