"And then?"
"I should want to see her as happy and contented as she used to be—the Nina we used to know. I should want to get her back to the theatre, where she was succeeding so well. She liked her work; she was interested in it; and you know she
was becoming quite a favorite with the public. Come, Miss Girond," he said, "you needn't be angry with me; that won't do any good. I see now I have been very thoughtless and careless; I ought not to have given her that loving-cup; I ought not to have given her any of those trinkets, I suppose. But it never occurred to me at the time; I fancied she would be pleased at the moment, that was all."
"And you did not reflect, then," said Estelle, regarding him for a second, "what it was that may have brought Nina to England at the beginning?—no?—what made her wish to play at the New Theatre? Ah, a man is so blind!"
"Brought Nina to England?" he repeated, rather bewildered.
"But these are only my conjectures," she said, quickly. "No, I have no secrets to tell. I ask myself what brings Nina to England, to the New Theatre, to the companionship with her old friend—I ask myself that, and I see. But you—perhaps it is not your fault that you are blind; you have so many ladies seeking for favor you have no time to think of this one or that, or you are grown indifferent, it may be. Poor Nina! she that was always so proud, too; it is herself that has struck herself; a deep wound to her pride; that is why she goes away, and she will never come back. No, Mr. Moore, she will never come back. I asked you what you would do if you were to find her—it is useless. She will never come back; she is too proud."
Estelle looked at her watch.
"Soon I must go in to the theatre. There was a note from Mr. Lehmann this morning; he wishes me to go over some parts with Miss Constance, to make sure."
"What hour have you to be there?" he said, taking up his hat.
"Half-past eleven."