"No thank you," he said. "I am going down to the village for my mother. Good-morning. Good-morning, Captain Murpoint." And he sauntered off.
They repaired to the drawing-room, that being the coolest part of the house, and there the captain was most attentive. The conversation got on to the topic of music, and Violet turned over her new songs, and at last, in answer to a question whether he sang or not, the captain offered to sing.
He seated himself at the piano, struck a few chords, and commenced a barcarole in so sweet and yet powerful a voice that Violet was charmed.
The music drew Mrs. Mildmay into the room from another part of the house, and the morning, which Violet had feared would be extremely dull, promised to pass away most pleasantly.
While he was singing, Violet heard her door open.
She was standing at the piano, and she did not turn her head, but raised her eyes to a mirror which hung over the instrument, and which reflected the whole of the room.
As she did so, she saw that the door was opened by the captain's servant, and her gaze was riveted by the picture which the mirror showed her.
The man, thinking himself unobserved was standing, with the door handle in his hand, with such an expression of infinite mockery and sardonic amusement on his evil face that Violet felt herself fascinated and strangely impressed by it.
Suddenly the captain raised his eyes, and she knew by the look of mingled anger, alarm, and suspicion which displaced the smile upon his face that he was conscious of her fixed attention upon the mirror.
He finished the song abruptly, turned his head, and saw Jem Starling, whose face instantly resumed its usual snug demureness.