suggestion, I calmly walked forward and
shook hands with my hostess. She greeted me with her customary
cordiality, and in about two minutes I was feeling perfectly at home in
spite of my dusty clothes. I now had an opportunity of examining the
other guests, who were dispersed in groups about the room. Most of them
were people I had frequently met before under the Maitlands' hospitable
roof, but the face which had first arrested my attention was that of an
absolute stranger.

"I see you are admiring Miss Latouche, like the rest of us," said Mrs.
Maitland in a low voice. "Such a talented girl! She can play positively
any kind of instrument, and has persuaded me to have the old harp taken
out of the lumber-room and put in order for her. She looks so well
playing it, doesn't she? Quite like Cleopatra or the Queen of Sheba!"

"She is undoubtedly handsome in a certain style," I replied cautiously.
"I don't know whether I admire such a gipsy type myself--"

"Ah, you agree with me then," interrupted my hostess eagerly. "I call it
an uncomfortable sort of beauty for a drawing-room. She always looks as
if she might produce a dagger at a moment's notice, as the people do in
operas. Give me a nice simple girl with a pretty English face, like my
niece Lily Wallace over there! But I am bound to say Miss Latouche makes
a great sensation wherever she goes. Of course she has wonderful
powers."

I was about to inquire in what these powers consisted, when Mrs.
Maitland was called away. Left to myself, I could not repress a smile at
the comparison she had instituted between her own niece and the
beautiful stranger. Lily was well enough, a good-tempered pink and white
girl, who in twenty years' time would develop into just such another
florid matron as her aunt. And then I looked again at Miss Latouche.

She was seated a little apart from the rest, one white arm hanging
listlessly over the harp upon which she had just been playing. Her large
dark eyes had a far-away look of utter abstraction from all sub-lunary
matters that I have never seen in anyone besides. Masses of wavy black
hair were loosely coiled over her head, round a high Spanish comb, and
half concealed her brow in a dusky cloud. At first sight the black
velvet dress, which swept around her in heavy folds, seemed rather an
unsuitable costume for so young a girl. But its sombreness was relieved
by a gorgeous Indian scarf, thrown carelessly over the shoulders. I do
not know