"Oh, Lord Lancaster, you are too late! She is come now!" cried Lady
Adela, for her glance, too, had fallen on the graceful, hesitating
figure. She saw with inexpressible chagrin that Leonora was in simple
but faultless costume. Her dress, of some soft, shining, thin, black
material, was of stylish and fashionable make, and her white shoulders
and arms gleamed marble-white through the thin folds. She had arranged
all her rich tresses of chestnut hair in loose puffs and waves on the
top of her head, and fastened a single spray of starry white jasmine
flowers at the side. Some of the same sweet, fragrant blossoms fastened
the full ruff of white crêpe lisse at the round, white throat, and
constituted her only adorning. Her white arms and dimpled wrist, left
bare by the elbow-sleeves of her dress, were more beautiful in their
shapely grace than Lady Adela's ten-button gloves and diamond bracelets.
"She has had the impertinence to get herself up in full evening dress,
the minx!" the earl's daughter muttered, almost audibly; and then she
uttered a suppressed exclamation of annoyance, for Lord Lancaster had
started for her side, and was making his way rapidly across the room to
the door.
"He has left me for her!" was her jealous, angry thought, and a sudden
hatred for Leonora entered her heart.
Meanwhile, Lord Lancaster had reached the spot where the girl was
standing, with a slightly heightened color on her face, but with that
quiet air of self-possession she habitually wore. She was not at all
overwhelmed by the honor Lady Lancaster had thrust upon her, but she
was a little indignant at the dowager, who purposely left her standing
there alone, taking care that De Vere did not see her and go to her
rescue.
But she forgot her nephew sitting in full view across the room, or she
thought that he would not forsake the side of Lady Adela. What was her
amazement when she saw him standing by the girl's side, saw the fair
face lifted to his with a grateful smile!
"Lady Lancaster has commanded your humble servant to appear before
your highness and execute divers pieces of music," she was saying,
mischievously, when the dowager pounced down upon them like a hawk,
and, with an angry aside to her nephew, bore Leonora off to the piano.
The next minute De Vere came forward gladly. By this time every one was
looking, yet he was in nowise intimidated.
"Oh, Miss West, how glad I am to meet you, and looking as charming as
ever, too!" in an audible aside, while his face beamed with delight.
Leonora drew her hand rather hastily away.
"I am not here on equal terms, please remember that," she said, turning
around and sitting down on the piano-stool. "It is my lady's orders
that I shall amuse the company."
"Then I shall turn your music--may I?" he entreated.
She gave a careless assent, and looked at the great pile of music.
"Perhaps you will select something to play," she said; and seeing,
without turning her head, that Lancaster had gone back to his seat by
the earl's daughter.
"He is afraid she will be jealous of me," the girl said to herself,
with the least little curl of her red lip.
"Can you play this?" De Vere inquired, placing a simple little song
before her.
"Yes; but I do not want a song, please. Give me something by Mozart or
Rossini--something brilliant. I am on exhibition, you see," saucily.
"Can you really play Mozart?" he whispered to her as he searched for
the music.
"Oh, yes; and Beethoven, too. I am fond of music, so I have studied
it a great deal. I can play almost anything," she said, carelessly,
as she took the piece he handed her--an exceedingly brilliant and
difficult piece by Mozart, and ran her quick eyes over it.
She placed the music before her, and struck the first notes. The hum of
voices in the room grew instantly still. No one spoke while that grand
torrent of music rose and fell on the charmed air, as those slim white
fingers of Leonora swept the echoing keys. They forgot the performer
for a little, even as she forgot them. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes
sparkled. While she played she remembered nothing but the harmonies
that were shed from her subtle finger-touches. The art of the grand
composer charmed her, and when she paused at last, it was with a low
sigh of blended pain and pleasure.
"Brava!" said De Vere, bending over her, and she smiled.
"Have I done well? It is because I have a passion for music, and have
given my soul to it."