"Thanks, dear, for your loving letter,"-- that phrase alone acknowledged everything, accepted everything, and sanctioned everything.
In the evening, as she had said in writing to the Doctor, she went with Miss Skeat and sat in the front box of the theatre, which the great actor had placed at her disposal.

The play was _Othello_.

Mr.Barker had ascertained that she was going, and had accordingly procured himself a seat in the front of the orchestra.

He endeavoured to catch a look from Margaret all through the first part of the performance, but she was too entirely absorbed in the tragedy to notice him.

At length, in the interval before the last act, Mr.Barker took courage, and, leaving his chair, threaded his way out of the lines of seats to the entrance.