n fit attire; in imagination she dressed her slowly
from head to foot as the song went on, and was considering the question
of jewels when the music ceased, and Belzini was turning toward her.

"I hope I may become better acquainted with this rich voice," she said,
coming back gracefully to the present. "May I introduce myself? I
should like to try a duet with you, if you will allow me, Miss--"

"Douglas," said Belzini; "and this, mademoiselle, is Mrs. Lorrington."

Such was the beginning.

In addition to Helen's fancy for Anne's fair grave face, the young
girl's voice proved a firmer support for her high soprano than it had
ever obtained. Her own circle in society and the music classes had been
searched in vain more than once. For she needed a soprano, not a
contralto. And as soprani are particularly human, there had never been
any lasting co-operation. Anne, however, cheerfully sang whatever
Belzini put before her, remained admiringly silent while Helen executed
the rapid runs and trills with which she always decorated her part, and
then, when the mezzo was needed again, gave her full voice willingly,
supporting the other as the notes of an organ meet and support a flute
after its solo.

Belzini was in ecstasies; he sat up all night to copy music for them. He
said, anxiously, to Helen: "And the young girl? You like her, do you
not? Such a voice for you!"

"But I can not exactly buy young girls, can I?" said Mrs. Lorrington,
smiling.

More and more, however, each day she liked "the young girl" for herself
alone. She was an original, of course; almost an aboriginal; for she
told the truth exactly upon all occasions, appropriate or inappropriate,
and she had convictions. She was not aware, apparently, of the
old-fashioned and cumbrous appearance of these last-named articles of
mental furniture. But the real secret of Helen's liking lay in the fact
that Anne admired her, and was at the same time neither envious nor
jealous, and from her youth she had been troubled by the sure
development of these two feelings, sooner or later, in all her girl
companions. In truth, Helen's lot _was_ enviable; and also, whether
consciously or unconsciously, she had a skill in provoking jealousy. She
was the spoiled child of fortune. It was no wonder, therefore, that
those of her own sex and age seldom enjoyed being with her: the
contrast was too great. Helen was, besides, the very queen of Whim.

The queen of Whim! By nature; which