f dragging her thoughts
from the music with difficulty, while she suddenly felt sick and cold.

"And are they to be married soon?"

"I don't know exactly; but it has been going on for years, and we all
look upon it as a settled thing. She is always about with his mother."

"Is that Lord Bracondale's mother--the lady with the coronet of plaits
and the huge white aigrette with the diamond drops in it?" Theodora
asked. Her voice was schooled, and had no special tones in it. But oh,
how she was thrilling with interest and excitement underneath!

"Yes, that is Lady Bracondale. She is quite a type; always dresses in
that old-fashioned way, and won't know a soul who is not of her own set.
She is a cousin of one of my husband's aunts. I must introduce you to
her."

"She looks pretty haughty," announced Josiah Brown. "I should not care
to tread on her toes much." And then he remembered he had seen her years
ago driving through the little town of Bracondale.

Theodora asked no more questions. She kept her eyes fixed on the stage,
but she knew Hector had raised his glasses now and was scanning the box,
and had probably seen her.

What ought it to matter to her that he should be going to marry Miss
Winmarleigh? He could be nothing to her--only--only--but perhaps it was
not true. This woman, Mrs. Devlyn, whom she began to feel she should
dislike very much, had said it was looked upon as settled, not that it
was a fact. How could a man be going to marry one woman and make
desperate love to another at the same time? It was impossible--and
yet--she would _not_ look in any case. She would not once raise her eyes
that way.

And so in these two boxes green jealousy held sway, and while Hector
glared across at Theodora she smiled at Delaval Stirling, and spoke
softly of the music and the voices, though her heart was torn with pain.

"Do you see Hector Bracondale is back again, Delaval?" Mrs. Devlyn said.
"Do you know why he stayed in Paris so long? I heard--" And she
whispered low, so that Theodora only caught the name "Esclarmonde de
Chartres" and their modulated mocking laughter.

How they jarred upon her! How she felt she should hate London among all
these people whose ways she did not know! She turned a little, and
Josiah's vulgar familiar face seemed a relief to her, and her tender
eyes melted in kindliness as she looked at him.

"You are very pale to-night, my love," he said. "Would you like to go
home?"

But this she