ding over everyone in the room, young and old.
That power seemed to burn in the deep eyes, whose expression changed
from moment to moment. Hadria's cheeks, for once, had a faint tinge of
colour. The mysterious character of her beauty became more marked.
Professor Theobald followed her, with admiring and studious gaze.
Whether she had felt remorseful for her somewhat unfriendly greeting at
the beginning of the evening, or from some other cause, her manner to
him had changed. It was softer, less mocking. He perceived it instantly,
and pursued his advantage. The party still centred eagerly round the
piano. Hadria was under the influence of music; therefore less careful
and guarded than usual, more ready to sway on the waves of emotion. And
beyond all these influences, tending in the same direction, was the
underlying spirit of rebellion against the everlasting "Thou shalt not"
that met a woman at every point, and turned her back from all paths save
one. And following that one (so ran Hadria's insurrectionary thoughts),
the obedient creature had to give up every weapon of her womanhood;
every grace, every power; tramping along that crowded highway, whereon
wayworn sisters toil forward, with bandaged eyes, and bleeding feet; and
as their charm fades, in the pursuing of their dusty pilgrimage, the
shouts, and taunts, and insults, and laughter of their taskmasters
follow them, while still they stumble on to the darkening land that
awaits them, at the journey's end: Old Age, the vestibule of Death.

Hadria's eyes gleamed strangely.

"They shall not have their way with me too easily. I can at least give
my pastors and masters a little trouble. I can at least fight for it,
losing battle though it be."

The only person who seemed to resist Hadria's influence to-night, was
Mrs. Jordan, the mother of Marion Fenwick.

"My dear madam," said Professor Theobald, bending over the portly form
of Mrs. Jordan, "a woman's first duty is to be charming."

"Oh, that comes naturally, Professor," said Hadria, "though it is rather
for _you_ than for _me_ to say that. You are always missing
opportunities."

"Believe me, I will miss them no more," he said emphatically.

"Tell us _your_ idea of a woman's duty, Mrs. Jordan," prompted Madame
Bertaux maliciously. Mrs. Jordan delivered herself of various immemorial
sentiments which met the usual applause. But Madame Bertaux said
brusquely that she thought if that sort of thing were preached at wom