denly a burst of applause shook the house, the curtain had fallen, and Booth sprang to Walter's side, who was still engaged in an animated flirtation with an actress who was to play in the afterpiece.
"We have carried every thing before us!" exclaimed he: "I died in splendid style. And now, for supper; I will drink to the liberties of Sparta in nothing less than champagne to-night! I have done wonders for you: I am sure that no one who saw Agis to-night could say that 'Sparta has many a worthier son than he!' I was first-rate!"
"I congratulate you!" was what Courtenaye, as he shook hands with the successful author, tried to say; but he felt that his words were inaudible. At first he could only look his joy; but he was singularly struck with Walter's appearance: the flush of forced spirits had sunk in the presence of his great emotion, and his face was as the face of death.
A dark presentiment sprang up in Norbourne's mind, and a sad pity mingled with his rejoicing. He seemed fascinated by the
