The Primadonna | Page 8

let Griggs come in, but went out to him, shut the
door and stood with his back to it.
Margaret did not look behind her, but crossed directly to the sofa and
leaned over the dying girl, who was conscious and looked at her with
inquiring eyes, not recognising her.
'You sent for me,' said the singer gently.
'Are you really Madame Cordova?' asked the girl in a faint tone.
It was as much as she could do to speak at all, and the doctor looked up
to Margaret and raised his hand in a warning gesture, meaning that his
patient should not be allowed to talk. She saw his movement and
smiled faintly, and shook her head.
'No one can save me,' she said to him, quite quietly and distinctly.
'Please leave us together, doctor.'
'I am altogether at a loss,' the doctor answered, speaking to Margaret as
he rose. 'There are no signs of asphyxia, yet the heart does not respond
to stimulants. I've tried nitro-glycerine--'
'Please, please go away!' begged the girl.
The doctor was a young surgeon from the nearest hospital, and hated to

leave his case. He was going to argue the point, but Margaret stopped
him.
'Go into the next room for a moment, please,' she said authoritatively.
He obeyed with a bad grace, and went into the empty office which
adjoined the manager's room, but he left the door open. Margaret knelt
down in his place and took the girl's cold white hand.
'Can he hear?' asked the faint voice.
'Speak low,' Margaret answered. 'What can I do?'
'It is a secret,' said the girl. 'The last I shall ever have, but I must tell
some one before I die. I know about you. I know you are a lady, and
very good and kind, and I have always admired you so much!'
'You can trust me,' said the singer. 'What is the secret I am to keep for
you?'
'Do you believe in God? I do, but so many people don't nowadays, you
know. Tell me.'
'Yes,' Margaret answered, wondering. 'Yes, I do.'
'Will you promise, by the God you believe in?'
'I promise to keep your secret, so help me God in Heaven,' said
Margaret gravely.
The girl seemed relieved, and closed her eyes for a moment. She was so
pale and still that Margaret thought the end had come, but presently she
drew breath again and spoke, though it was clear that she had not much
strength left.
'You must not keep the secret always,' she said. 'You may tell him you
know it. Yes--let him know that you know--if you think it best--'
'Who is he?'

'Mr. Van Torp.'
'Yes?' Margaret bent her ear to the girl's lips and waited.
Again there was a pause of many seconds, and then the voice came
once more, with a great effort that only produced very faint sounds,
scarcely above a whisper.
'He did it.'
That was all. At long intervals the dying girl drew deep breaths, longer
and longer, and then no more. Margaret looked anxiously at the still
face for some time, and then straightened herself suddenly.
'Doctor! Doctor!' she cried.
The young man was beside her in an instant. For a full minute there
was no sound in the room, and he bent over the motionless figure.
'I'm afraid I can't do anything,' he said gently, and he rose to his feet.
'Is she really dead?' Margaret asked, in an undertone.
'Yes. Failure of the heart, from shock.'
'Is that what you will call it?'
'That is what it is,' said the doctor with a little emphasis of offence, as if
his science had been doubted. 'You knew her, I suppose?'
'No. I never saw her before. I will call Schreiermeyer.'
She stood still a moment longer, looking down at the dead face, and she
wondered what it all meant, and why the poor girl had sent for her, and
what it was that Mr. Van Torp had done. Then she turned very slowly
and went out.
'Dead, I suppose,' said Schreiermeyer as soon as he saw the
Primadonna's face. 'Her relations won't get here in time.'

Margaret nodded in silence and went on through the lobby.
'The rehearsal is at eleven,' the manager called out after her, in his
wooden voice.
She nodded again, but did not look back. Griggs had waited in order to
take her back to her dressing-room, and the two crossed the stage
together. It was almost quite dark now, and the carpenters were gone
away.
'Thank you,' Margaret said. 'If you don't care to go all the way back you
can get out by the stage door.'
'Yes. I know the way in this theatre. Before I say good-night, do you
mind telling me what the