"The dagger is in her bodice!" she whispered. "Watch! After the next movement she will snatch it out! Oh, Mr. Philip Bolling, that is Mamma!"
The child gave a great sob and trembled violently. Philip put his arm around her and whispered, "Do you want me to take you out?"
"Oh, no! I must see her! She is all that is left of my old life! That is the dance she danced to make Daddy fall in love with her. That is the dance she danced when poor Papa died. Oh, Mr. Philip Bolling, when it is over take me behind the scenes and let me speak to her."
"Of course I will."
The music rose to wild heights and with a final twirl the dancer plunged the glinting dagger into an imaginary victim; then gave a piercing shriek and sank in a glowing heap on the floor.
"How can she? How can she? That is exactly the shriek she gave when poor Papa died," shuddered Rebecca. "Can we go now?"
With a word to his mother, who was always a person to understand quickly and to accept unquestionably, and one to Jo to look after his mother, Philip led Rebecca from the hall, and
