had never admired any
other hair and eyes in the world before; and there was a young man. His
face had hitherto been the one that she thought she remembered best; she
was suddenly aware that she had so idealised and glorified it that its
very features had become unreal, and that when she met it in the flesh
in later years it remained unrecognisable. Never once till now had it
been borne in upon her that this hero of her childish dreams and her
present lover were one and the same. It was a terrible shock to her--and
greater even then she knew.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss West," said Miss Leonora
Vane, holding out her hand so cordially that Cynthia could not in common
politeness refuse to take it. "Your singing has delighted everybody--and
myself, I am sure I may say, not least. You have been some time in
Italy, I suppose? Do sit down here and tell me where you studied."

Cynthia fancied that she heard the same voice telling her what a wicked
girl she was, and that she deserved to be whipped for running away from
the workhouse. She repressed a little shudder, and answered smilingly--

"You are very kind. Yes, I have studied in Italy."

"Under Lamperti, I hear. Do you think of coming out in opera next
season? You may always count me among your audience."

Cynthia remembered how this courteous gentlewoman had once put her hand
over her eyes and declared that the sight of Westwood's daughter made
her ill. The burning sense of injustice that had then taken possession
of the child's soul rose up as strong as ever in the woman. She wished,
in her bitterness, that she were free to rise from her seat and cry
aloud--

"Yes, look at me--listen to me--for I am Westwood's daughter! I am the
child of a felon and escaped convict, a man whom you call a
murderer--and I am proud of my name!"

Curiously enough, Miss Vane touched closely upon this subject before
long. She was anxious to know whether Cynthia's name was her own or only
assumed for stage purposes, and managed to put her question in such a
way that it sounded less like impertinence than a manifestation of
kindly interest--which was very clever of Miss Vane.

"No," said Cynthia coldly, "'West' is not my name exactly; but I prefer
to be known by it at present."

She had never said as much before; and Miss Vane felt herself a little
bit snubbed, and decided that the new singer had not at all good
manners; but she meant to secure her for her next party nev