That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came in, radiant with jewels and fierce with anger. She saw Lady Clara, and stopped upon the threshold in haughty astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy expression of her face, but faltered out:
"Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope."
Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia was equal to her part at all times. She did not often see a lady of rank in her dressing-room, and the honor drove away the indignant wrath intended for Caroline.
"Ah!" she said, "this poor child—it was so unfortunate! But she will recover. In a day or two she will get back her courage. What a voice she has, my lady! Did you hear? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time when she broke down. What could have occasioned it?"
"It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some dignity; "because I am sure she will never do for the stage. Her voice is superb, but so uncertain! When we compare it with yours, madame, it is to regret that she ever ventured so far."
Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare before the call-boy would summon her back to the stage.
"There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no one ever dreamed that I would succeed as a singer; but you see what resolution and study can do."
"But you had study; your guardians gave plenty of time. Let her have that time; let her friends have an opportunity to think what is best for her."
"Her friends? I did not know that she had any in England."
"Oh, yes! I am one; Lady Hope is another. Then there is Mr. Closs."