Miss West glanced around the room on her first entry with some astonishment largely commingled with admiration. The mixture of luxury and disorder which met her eyes might have surprised even persons more conversant with the world than Cynthia West. The golden-brown plush curtains between the rooms were half pushed back, and showed that the back-room had been turned into a library. Shelves crowded with books, tables heaped with them, a great writing-table and a secrétaire showed that Mr. Lepel used the room for what might be called "professional" purposes. But in the front drawing-room there had been attempts—and not unsuccessful attempts—at more artistic decoration. The curtains were of exquisite brocade, some charming etchings adorned the walls, great porcelain bowls of flowers had been placed on the oddly-shaped little tables that stood about the room. A pianette had been pulled out from the wall, and an Algerian shawl glistening with gold was loosely thrown over its back. Other articles of decoration were suggestive of foreign travel. A collection of murderous-looking weapons had been fastened on the wall between the two windows, some Eastern embroideries were thrown here and there over the furniture, and an inlaid mother-o'-pearl stool, an enormous narghileh, and some Japanese kakemonos gave the room quite an outlandish air. In spite of its oddness, there was a brightness and pleasantness about the place, due to the gay tints of the Oriental stuffs, and the hue and fragrance of the flowers with which pots and bowls and vases were plentifully filled.
"Yes, take off your hat and cloak, please," said Hubert, "if you do not mind the trouble."
"It is no trouble at all; I can sing much better without my outdoor things," replied the girl promptly.
She took off her little black-and-white hat and her neat little jacket, and displayed herself in a closely-fitting black gown which suited her admirably, in spite of its plainness. There was no touch of color or sign of ornament; a rim of white collar around the neck and white cuffs at her wrists gave the only relief to the gown's sombre hue. And yet, with the vivid beauty of her face above the plain dark garment, it seemed as if she could not have found a garb that was more absolutely becoming. She stood beside the little piano for a moment with a roll of music in her hand, and looked at Hubert questioningly.
"Shall I play my own accompaniment?" she asked.
"I never thought of that; I could have judged better of your voice if we had had an accompanist," said her host. "I could play for you myself if you liked."
"No; I will do it," said Cynthia decidedly, "Go to the other end of the room, will you, please, Mr. Lepel? You will hear me better there."
There was a pretty air of command about her which amused Mr. Lepel. This young woman, he reflected, as he took up the position which she had recommended, was not one who would be contented with a secondary position anywhere. She evidently considered herself born to rule. Well, he would do her bidding; he had no objection to the rule of a pretty woman! He was not disposed to take Miss Cynthia West and her singing very seriously—as yet.
Cynthia seated herself at the piano, while Hubert flung himself into an easy-chair at the farther end of the room, and crossed his arms behind his head in an attitude of attention and endurance, which showed that he was not expecting much and was prepared to bear the worst. For the singing of an average girl of eighteen or nineteen, with an ambition to appear on a public stage, is apt to be trying to the sensibilities of the true music-lover; and Hubert Lepel was no mean critic of the art.
Cynthia played a few opening bars, and then began to sing a popular ballad of the day. When she had finished it, she did not look round, but went on fingering the notes, gliding gradually into another key. Then suddenly she broke out into a fine old Italian aria, which she sang with much fire and expression, availing herself of every opportunity of fioriture and cadenza afforded by the song. And thence, with only a few bars of symphony between, she launched herself upon one of Schubert's most passionate love-songs, and sang it in a style which brought the listener to his feet at its close in a musical rapture that almost defied expression.