one who saw her ever forgot
her. The next morning the papers raved about her; they prophesied a new
era for music and for the stage; it was, perhaps, the most triumphant
night of her great career. She had the gift which makes an actress or a
singer; she could impress her individuality on people; she made a mark
on the hearts and minds of those who saw her that was never effaced; her
gestures, her face, her figure, her magnificent attitudes stood out
vivid and clear, while they lived distinct from any others.

"Where royalty smiles, other people laugh," says the old proverb. No
sooner was it known that the warmest praise kindly and royal lips could
give had been given to Madame Vanira than she became at once the darling
of the world of fashion.

Invitations poured in upon her, the most princely mansions in London
were thrown open to her; the _creme de la creme_ of the _elite_ sought
her eagerly; there was nothing like her; her beauty and her genius
inthralled every one. The time came when she was the most popular and
the most eagerly sought after woman in London, yet she cared little for
society; her art was the one thing she lived for, and her friendship
with Lord Chandos. One day she said to him:

"I have never seen Lady Marion. What is she like?"

He noticed then and afterward that she never spoke of the queen of
blondes as Lady Chandos, or as "your wife," but always as Lady Marion.

This was a beautiful morning in May, and there, sitting under the great
cedar-tree on the lawn, all the sweet-smelling wind wafting luscious
odors from jasmine and honeysuckle, the brilliant sun shining down on
them, he had been reading to her the notes of a speech by which he hoped
to do wonders; she had suggested some alterations, and, as he found,
improvements; then she sat silently musing. After some time she startled
him with the question:

"What is Lady Marion like?"

"Did you not see her," he replied, "on the first evening we were at the
opera? She was by my side, and you saw me. Nay, I remember that she told
me you were looking at her, and that your eyes magnetized hers."

"I remember the evening," said Leone sadly, "but I do not remember
seeing my lady. I--I saw nothing but you. Tell me what she is like. Is
she very beautiful?" she asked, and the tone of her voice was very
wistful.

"Yes; she is very fine and queenly," he replied; "she is very quiet,
gentle, and amiable. Would you like to see her, Leone?"

A sudden fl