rs--for the
exquisite music thrilled her to the core--leant back, with her hands
tightly clasped in her lap, her thoughts flying back to Herondale and
those summer evenings which, in some strange way, every song recalled.

She was unconscious of her surroundings, even of the objectionable
Joseph, who sat beside her as closely as he could; and she started
slightly as he whispered:

"Those seats are filled up now. I wonder who they are? They look
classy--particularly so."

Ida nodded mechanically, and paid no heed. Presently Joseph, who was
one of those individuals who can never sit still or be silent for long
at a theatre or concert, nudged Ida and said: "Look! there is one of
them standing up! Why, I believe it is--" He borrowed an opera-glass
from the man sitting in front of him and levelled it at the stalls. One
of the new-comers, one of the gentlemen, had risen from his seat, and
with his back to the platform, was scanning the house with a pleasant
smile on his handsome face. "Yes, it is!" exclaimed Joseph, excitedly.
"It's Sir Stephen Orme! Here, take the glasses and look at him! That
gentleman looking round the house, the one standing up with the white
waistcoat, the one that came in with the other two! That's the great
Sir Stephen himself! I saw him once in the city; besides, I've seen his
portraits everywhere. That's the man who has created more excitement on
the Stock Exchange than any man in our time."

Ida took the glasses which he had thrust into her hand and held it to
her eyes; but her hand shook, and for a moment or two she could
distinguish nothing; then, as the mist passed away and her hand grew
steadier, so that she could see Sir Stephen, he bent down and said
something to the lady sitting beside him. She looked round, and Ida saw
distinctly, and for the first time, though fashionable London was
tolerably familiar with it now, the beautiful face of Maude Falconer.

With her heart beating painfully Ida looked at her, noting with a
woman's quickness every detail of the handsome face with its wealth of
bronze-gold hair. A presentiment flashed into her mind and weighed upon
her heart as she looked, a presentiment which was quickly verified, for
the man on the other side of the beautiful woman rose and looked round
the house, and Ida saw that it was Stafford.

Her hand gripped the opera-glass tightly, for it was in danger of
falling. She felt as if she were stifling, the great place, with its
sea of f