CHAPTER VII.
BOLD STROKE FOR A LOVER.
Ah, cruel! tu m'as trop entendue!
Je t'en ai dit assez pour te tirer d'erreur.
Eh bien! connois donc Phèdre en toute sa fureur
Je t'aime!
RACINE.—Phèdre.
"Do you never sing, Mrs. Vyner?" asked Mrs. St. John, as she saw her beating time with her head (and curious time it was!) to Violet's singing.
"No; I have so little voice."
"That surprises me; I should have thought you must sing well, your speaking voice is so soft."
Mrs. Meredith Vyner smiled her acknowledgments, and redoubled the energy of her impossible time-beating. Marmaduke, charmed by the magic of Violet's singing, was gradually overcoming his anger, and was slowly admitting to himself what a divine creature she was.
She ceased, and Marmaduke prayed so earnestly for her to continue, that she again sat down, and while her rich contralto notes were making every chord in his heart vibrate, he suddenly encountered the savage gaze of his former "tiger-eyed" mistress. She rapidly closed and then opened her eyes, with that manner peculiar to her, and which I have mentioned before, and a smile dethroned the look of hate which the previous instant had usurped her face; but he marked the change, and smiled scornfully.
"What a beautiful voice she has!" said Mrs. St. John.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Vyner; "but we prefer Blanche's singing—she has so much feeling. Violet, you know, has more of the professional mechanism; but Blanche has a soul in her singing."
As Blanche was a rival out of the way, it was safe to cry up her attraction, especially at the expense of one of the other girls. Violet was perfectly aware of what her mother meant, but she was not the less nettled. As she was about to commence another song, Mrs. Vyner said,