he evening. In one of her bold snatches
of song she rounded off with a rollicking impromptu, which carried all
the richness and force of her voice with it. This threw the whole
company into a tumult of applause, but Hilton sat quietly and looked on,
with a smile of supreme contempt quivering about his lips.

"Ha," said Olympia, filling his glass with her own hands, "you neither
drink nor care for my singing. It is only the youth and beauty of my
daughter that can move Lord Hilton."

Her daughter! The face of the young man turned white, and his lips
closed sharply. He looked at the woman by his side, the flushed cheeks,
the soft, slumbrous eyes, with absolute repulsion. He hated the very
thought that the young creature he had found, like a bird, in that sweet
Italian home, could belong in anything to a woman like that. Still, she
had, in her reckless inadvertency, called her daughter, and though the
very idea drove the blood to his heart, it was only by a cold pallor
that the shock this one word had given to him was visible.

"Your daughter is very beautiful," he said, in a low voice.

"Did I call Caroline my daughter? Oh, well, it is no matter--the truth
will out sometime, though I would rather wait till her success is
assured. When she becomes famous, I shall glory in claiming her; but let
me warn you, it is a secret as yet. You will understand. One does not
care to own a girl as tall as that while the gloss is on one's hair.
Nothing but the most wonderful success will induce me to acknowledge her
before the world."

"But if she is your child--"

"I have said that she is my child; but it is a secret, and I did not
mean to talk about it. Tell me, now, did you discover no likeness?"

"I did not observe."

"Still, they think her so beautiful."

Lord Hilton made no answer. The conversation had become irksome to him;
but some person at the table took the last word from Olympia's lips and
repeated it aloud.

"Beautiful! You must be speaking of our new prima donna. In my opinion
she is perfect; but you, Lord Hilton, have only seen her from the
stage--can form no idea of her loveliness, or of her voice either. There
was nothing, the other night, that could compare with her singing at our
little supper here. Besides, her beauty, to be appreciated, must be
seen close. There is not a fault in her face or form, I can assure you."

Lord Hilton's face flushed angrily, then a slow whiteness crept over it
again, and he be