sulky
lady in white satin. She sang. Her singing just affected me like the
tricks of a conjuror: I wondered how she did it--how she made her voice
run up and down, and cut such marvellous capers; but a simple Scotch
melody, played by a rude street minstrel, has often moved me more
deeply.

Afterwards stepped forth a gentleman, who, bending his body a good deal
in the direction of the King and Queen, and frequently approaching his
white-gloved hand to the region of his heart, vented a bitter outcry
against a certain "fausse Isabelle." I thought he seemed especially to
solicit the Queen's sympathy; but, unless I am egregiously mistaken,
her Majesty lent her attention rather with the calm of courtesy than
the earnestness of interest. This gentleman's state of mind was very
harrowing, and I was glad when he wound up his musical exposition of
the same.

Some rousing choruses struck me as the best part of the evening's
entertainment. There were present deputies from all the best provincial
choral societies; genuine, barrel-shaped, native Labassecouriens. These
worthies gave voice without mincing the matter their hearty exertions
had at least this good result--the ear drank thence a satisfying sense
of power.

Through the whole performance--timid instrumental duets, conceited
vocal solos, sonorous, brass-lunged choruses--my attention gave but one
eye and one ear to the stage, the other being permanently retained in
the service of Dr. Bretton: I could not forget him, nor cease to
question how he was feeling, what he was thinking, whether he was
amused or the contrary. At last he spoke.

"And how do you like it all, Lucy? You are very quiet," he said, in his
own cheerful tone.

"I am quiet," I said, "because I am so very, _very_ much interested:
not merely with the music, but with everything about me."

He then proceeded to make some further remarks, with so much equanimity
and composure that I began to think he had really not seen what I had
seen, and I whispered--"Miss Fanshawe is here: have you noticed her?"

"Oh, yes! and I observed that you noticed her too?"

"Is she come with Mrs. Cholmondeley, do you think?"

"Mrs. Cholmondeley is there with a very grand party. Yes; Ginevra was
in _her_ train; and Mrs. Cholmondeley was in Lady ----'s train, who was
in the Queen's train. If this were not one of the compact little minor
European courts, whose very formalities are little more imposing than
familiarities, and who