The roads were heavy, and so, a drive, that in good weather could have been easily accomplished in thirty minutes, occupied them for forty-five.
It was rather late when they reached the National Theatre, where the opera troupe were performing.
The house was full, and the play had commenced.
Upon inquiry at the ticket-office, Alexander ascertained that there were no good seats to be had, with the exception of those in a stage box, that happened to be disengaged.
Alexander at once took that, and guided by an usher, led his companion thither.
On taking her seat in the box, Drusilla’s eyes fell upon what seemed to her a scene of enchantment.
The house was filled with a fashionable and well-dressed audience, and the opera was in full play. Drusilla had never been in an opera before. The Christmas pantomimes of her childhood comprised the whole of her experiences in the theatrical line. Her artistic eye and ear at once appealed to, she gazed with curiosity and interest, and listened with wonder and delight.
Her attention was fixed upon the stage, but her bridegroom’s was fixed upon her. As once before, in her childhood, he had looked through her eyes, and heard through her ears, and derived more pleasure from her pleasure, than from the performance on the stage, so now he experienced a keener delight in watching and wondering at
“The mind, the music breathing from her face,”
than in listening to the most divine strains of the singer, who was charming the whole house.