y a circle of small lustres immediately
beneath her, and an immense chandelier far above. They were very
early; but few boxes were occupied, the foot-lights were not raised,
and the orchestra was nearly empty. The dark green of the great
curtain seemed almost black in the gloom. Helen asked Mrs. Winter if
it were not very dark.

"Ah! wait a moment," said that lady.

And in fact, even as she spoke, a row of bright lamps rose in front of
the curtain, and a flood of splendour from the central chandelier
irradiated the whole house, displaying the occupants of the boxes, as
portraits set in frames of rich crimson. A rustle of conversation
murmured from the pit, but was soon lost in the confused sounds which
came from the orchestra, now rapidly filling. With a wild kind of
surprise Helen listened to those discordant tones, and noted how by
degrees they melted into harmony with the leader's long-drawn note. At
length there was silence; a gentleman with a small wand took his place
at a desk in front of the musicians, talking and laughing with those
near him; a little bell rang behind the curtain; and after three taps
of the wand, the orchestra whirled away into the overture to an opera
then new to a London audience, never to become antiquated.

The foot-lights sank, and the great green curtain rose. The stage was
nearly dark. A droll-looking personage came stealthily forward, bowing
in acknowledgment of the applause, or of the laughter, which greeted
his appearance. Helen laughed, without knowing why. She had a book,
but she was too much absorbed to consult it, and kept her eyes fixed
on the stage. The droll-looking man sang a whimsical complaint, and
retreated from approaching footsteps. There was a struggle between a
gentleman and a lady, interrupted by an old man in a night-cap. The
old man was killed. There was passionate lamentation over his body.
There were scenes, of which Helen scarcely knew whether they were
comic or serious. Then came a rural festival which raised her spirits;
the gentleman she had seen at first, now courted one of the country
girls; hand in hand they quitted the stage, amidst a hurricane of
applause. But Helen was unconscious of the enthusiasm around her, so
strongly was she impressed by the music. She had heard Ambrogetti and
Fodor sing _La ci darem_.

The duet was repeated with nearly the same effect. And for the
novices, for Randolph as well as Helen, this was the great stage
sensation of the