aith enough in herself to add openly:

"You can, of course, please yourself, as soon as you are of age; you can
then remarry the young person without our consent if you will; but my
opinion is you will not."

The time which had passed so unpleasantly for the earl and countess was
bright and light for the young bride and bridegroom. Leone had shed some
bitter tears when they left Dunmore House, but Lord Chandos laughed; he
was angry and irritated, but it seemed to him that such a state of
things could not last. His father and mother had indulged him in
everything--surely they would let him have his way in marriage. He
kissed the tears from his young wife's face, and laughed away her fears.

"It will be all right in the end," he said. "My father may hold out for
a few days, but he will give way; in the meantime, we must be happy,
Leone. We will stay at the Queen's Hotel until they invite us to Cawdor.
It will not be long; my mother and father cannot get on without me. We
will go to the opera to-night, that will distract your thoughts."

The opera had been but hitherto an empty word to Leone. She had a vague
idea that it consisted of singing. After all there was some compensation
to be found; her young husband was devoted to her, she was magnificently
dressed, and was going in a beautiful closed carriage to the opera.

She uttered no word of surprise, but her whole soul was filled with
wonder. The highest festivity and the greatest gayety she had ever
witnessed was a choir tea-party. She had a most beautiful voice; in
fact, neither herself nor any of those around her knew the value of her
voice or appreciated it.

On great occasions the choir were entertained by the rector--once during
the summer when they made merry out in the green woods, and once in the
winter when they were entertained in the school-room. Leone had thought
these parties the acme of grandeur and perfection; now she sat in that
brilliant circle and wondered into what world she had fallen.

Before the curtain was raised she was engrossed in that brilliant
circle. She had never seen such dresses, such diamonds, such jewels,
faces so beautiful, toilets so exquisite; it was all quite new to her.
The beautiful and poetic side of it appealed to her. Her beautiful face
flushed with delight, her dark eyes were lustrous and radiant.

Lord Chandos, looking round the opera-house, where some of the
handsomest women in England were, said to himself that among