to his own
amazement, found himself talking presently quite fluently to this
distinguished-looking young lady whose entrance of the drawing-room had
struck him with awe. With instinctive courteousness and kindness, Ida
had asked him some question about South Australia, and he was led to
talk of his life there, and to describe the country.

Ida found her thoughts wandering after a few minutes, and grew
absent-minded; but Mr. George Powler was launched, on his favourite
subject, was delighted with the condescension of the beautiful and
stately listener, and did not notice that she was scarcely listening;
did not notice also that Mrs. Heron was looking discontented and
sniffing peevishly, and that Isabel's face wore an expression of
jealousy and resentment. The fact was, that the poor man had quite
forgotten the other young woman--and the other young woman knew it.

Suddenly their silence bore down upon Ida's absent-mindedness, she felt
rather than saw that something was the matter, and she got up, in the
middle of one of Mr. George Powler's fluent but badly constructed
sentences, and going over to Isabel asked her to play something.

Isabel flushed.

"Oh, you had better sing," she said; "Mr. Powler would like that
better, _I'm_ sure."

"Oh, yes; please do!" pleaded the man; and Ida, trying to conceal her
weariness and distaste, went to the piano and sang the shortest song
she knew.

Her acquiescence was unfortunate in its result, for it completed in Mr.
George Powler's bosom the havoc which her face and voice had wrought.
He pressed her to sing again, beat time with his large hand and badly
groomed head, and was enthusiastic in his praises and seemed so
disappointed when she refused, that he seconded her appeal to Isabel
with an obviously forced politeness.

Isabel went to the piano, but she was at no time a very brilliant
performer, and the poor girl was so upset by Ida's unconscious and
unwilling superiority, that she broke down in the middle of one of
those hideous drawing-room pieces which seem specially "arranged" for
the torture of those who are blessed or cursed with musical taste.

The conversation naturally lagged and languished under these
circumstances, and Mr. George Powler presently rose to take his leave.
He was not asked to remain to dinner though Mrs. Heron had intended
inviting him, and had made secret and flurried preparations. He shook
hands with Ida with marked _empressement_ and nervousness,