races might be
confined to one's own parks, with no legs admitted, and immense prizes,
which must cause emulation. Then they joined the ladies, and then, in a
short time, there was music. Lothair hovered about Lady Corisande, and
at last seized a happy opportunity of addressing her.

"I shall never forget your singing at Brentham," he said; "at first I
thought it might be as Lady Montairy said, because I was not used to
fine singing; but I heard the Venusina the other day, and I prefer your
voice and style."

"Have you heard the Venusina?" said Lady Corisande, with animation; "I
know nothing that I look forward to with more interest. But I was told
she was not to open her mouth until she appeared at the opera. Where did
you hear her?"

"Oh, I heard her," said Lothair, "at the Roman Catholic cathedral."

"I am sure I shall never hear her there," said Lady Corisande, looking
very grave.

"Do not you think music a powerful accessory to religion?" said Lothair,
but a little embarrassed.

"Within certain limits," said Lady Corisande--"the limits I am used to;
but I should prefer to hear opera-singers at the opera."

"Ah! if all amateurs could sing like you," said Lothair, "that would be
unnecessary. But a fine mass by Mozart--it requires great skill as well
as power to render it. I admire no one so much as Mozart, and especially
his masses. I have been hearing a great many of them lately."

"So we understood," said Lady Corisande, rather dryly, and looking
about her as if she were not much interested, or at any rate not much
gratified by the conversation.

Lothair felt he was not getting on, and he wished to get on, but he was
socially inexperienced, and his resources not much in hand. There was a
pause--it seemed to him an awkward pause; and then Lady Corisande walked
away and addressed Lady Clanmorne.

Some very fine singing began at this moment; the room was hushed, no
one moved, and Lothair, undisturbed, had the opportunity of watching his
late companion. There was something in Lady Corisande that to him was
irresistibly captivating; and as he was always thinking and analyzing,
he employed himself in discovering the cause. "She is not particularly
gracious," he said to himself, "at least not to me; she is beautiful,
but so are others; and others, like her, are clever--perhaps more
clever. But there is something in her brow, her glance, her carriage,
which intimate what they call character, which interests me.