grace of her compliments, she gazed with keen,
bright eyes in that beautiful face.

"Do you know, Madame Vanira, that the first time I saw you there was
something quite familiar in your face."

There was something startling in the crimson blush that mounts even to
the locks of her dark hair.

"Is it so?" she asked.

And the countess did not relax the questioning gaze.

"I think now," she added, "that I am wrong. I cannot think of any one
who is like you. I shall be glad to see you at Dunmore House, Madame
Vanira. We have a dinner-party next week, and I hope you will be
inclined to favor us. Do you know Lady Chandos?"

"Yes," was the half sad reply, "I was introduced to her this evening."

They talked on indifferent subjects. The countess was most charming to
the gifted singer, and Leone could not help contrasting this interview
with the last that she had with Lady Lanswell. One thing was quite
certain. The countess did not recognize her, and her visits to Dunmore
House would be quite safe.

She talked to Lady Lanswell for some time, and went away that night
quite pleased with the new prospects opening before her.

CHAPTER XLVI.

AT THE BALL.

"I like Madame Vanira," said the Countess of Lanswell, a few days after
the introduction. "She is not only the most gifted singer of the present
day, but she is an uncommon type of woman. Who or what was she?"

My lady was seated in her own drawing-room in the midst of a circle of
morning callers. Lord Chandos was there, and he listened with some
amusement to the conversation that followed. The countess was speaking
to Major Hautbois, who was supposed to know the pedigree of everybody.
She looked at him now for the information he generally gave readily, but
the major's face wore a troubled expression.

"To tell the truth," he replied, "I have heard so many conflicting
stories as to the lady's origin that I am quite at a loss which to
repeat."

Lady Lanswell smiled at the naive confession.

"Truth does wear a strange aspect at times," she said. "When Major
Hautbois has to choose between many reports, I should say that none of
them were true. Myself," she continued, "I should say that Madame Vanira
was well-born--she has a patrician face."

Lord Chandos thought of the "dairy-maid," and sighed while he smiled.
Ah, if his mother could but have seen Leone with the same eyes with
which she saw Madame Vanira all would have been well.

It was quite evident th