"When I take her you'll be glad enough to join us; that is, if we
will have you." Then Madame Socani ground her teeth together, and
turned up her nose with redoubled scorn.

But it was soon borne in upon Mr. Moss that the marriage was to be
a marriage, and he was in truth very angry. He had been able to
endure M. Le Gros' success in carrying away Miss O'Mahony from "The
Embankment." Miss O'Mahony might come back again under that or any
other name. He--and she--had a musical future before them which might
still be made to run in accordance with his wishes. Then he had
learned with sincere sorrow that she was throwing herself into the
lord's hands, borrowing money of him. But there might be a way out of
this which would still allow him to carry out his project. But now he
heard that a real marriage was intended, and he was very angry. Not
even Madame Socani was more capable of spite than Mr. Moss, though
he was better able to hide his rage. Even now, when Christmas-time
had come, he would hardly believe the truth, and when the marriage
was not instantly carried out, new hopes came to him--that Lord
Castlewell would not at last make himself such a fool. He inquired
here and there in the musical world and the theatrical world, and
could not arrive at what he believed to be positive truth. Then
Christmas passed by, and Miss O'Mahony recommenced her singing at
Covent Garden. Three times a week the house was filled, and at last a
fourth night was added, for which the salary paid to Rachel was very
much increased.

"I don't see that the salary matters very much," said Lord
Castlewell, when the matter was discussed.

"Oh, but, my lord, it does matter!" She always called him my lord
now, with a little emphasis laid on the "my." "They have made father
a Member of Parliament, but he does not earn anything. What I can
earn up to the last fatal day he shall have, if you will let me give
it to him."

They were very bright days for Rachel, because she had all the
triumph of success,--success gained by her own efforts.

"I can never do as much as this when I am your countess," she said
to her future lord. "I shall dwell in marble halls, as people say,
but I shall never cram a house so full as to be able to see, when I
look up from the stage, that there is not a place for another man's
head; and when my throat gave way the other day I could read all the
disappointment in the public papers. I shall become your wife, my
lord."