Amanda at that moment felt to the full the unkindness of fate. She had not shared for an instant her mother's gratification at Elizabeth's entrance. It was hard, she thought, that, having arrayed herself in her best, and struggled long to look beautiful, she should be completely over-shadowed by Elizabeth in the cool white gown and shady hat, which had a provoking air of not being her best, but merely her natural and everyday attire. Amanda had seen, as well as Elizabeth, the look in Paul's eyes. Was it fair, she asked herself, that she should share her good things with Elizabeth, who had so many of her own? And so Amanda sat silent and sullen, while her mother talked on, and Halleck ran his fingers over the keys, as if he would fain be playing.
"What shall I sing?" he asked abruptly, in the first pause, and looking at Elizabeth as if her wishes alone were of any consequence.
"Oh, the Evening Star again," she responded eagerly. "I only heard the end of it, and it brought up so many delightful memories."
So Halleck sang the song again. A voice, artistically modulated, filled the little room, which vanished for Elizabeth. She saw pilgrims filing past in slow procession, Tannhäuser struggling against the power of the Venusberg, Elizabeth kneeling in her penitent's dress before the cross. The whole Wagnerian drama unrolled itself before her eyes while the song lasted. And then, as the last note died away, she came back to the present with a start, and realized that the young man who had just afforded her this pleasure was handsomer far than any Wolfram she had ever seen before.
"Ah, thank you," she said, drawing a long breath. "That is so beautiful. It is so long since I have heard any music."
"You are fond of it?" said Halleck, eagerly.
"Yes," she responded, earnestly.
"Ah, I saw it—I was sure of it," he declared. "You have the artistic temperament. I saw it in your face at once."
Elizabeth blushed for the third time that morning, and now with a distinct sense of pleasure. Amanda, too, flushed a dull red. She was not quite certain what the artistic temperament might be, but it was clearly one of those good things of which Elizabeth had an unfair monopoly.
"You play or sing yourself, of course?" Halleck went on.