The face, however, impressed me with other than its physical qualities.  It was bright, intelligent, sympathetic and, just now, happy.  But I thought it more, I thought it mystical.  Something that her mother said to her, probably about her dress, caused her smile to vanish for a moment, and then, from beneath it as it were, appeared this shadow of innate mysticism.  In a second it was gone and she was laughing again; but I, who am accustomed to observe, had caught it, perhaps alone of all that company.  Moreover, it reminded me of something.

What was it?  Ah!  I knew.  A look that sometimes I had seen upon the face of a certain Zulu lady named Mameena, especially at the moment of her wonderful and tragic death.  The thought made me shiver a little; I could not tell why, for certainly, I reflected, this high-placed and fortunate English girl had nothing in common with that fate-driven Child of Storm, whose dark and imperial spirit dwelt in the woman called Mameena.  They were as far apart as Zululand is from Essex.  Yet it was quite sure that both of them had touch with hidden things.

Lord Ragnall, looking more like a splendid Van Dyck than ever in his evening dress, stepped forward to greet his fiancee and her mother with a courtly bow, and I turned again to continue my contemplation of the stalwart Judith and the very ugly head of Holofernes.  Presently I was aware of a soft voice—­a very rich and thrilling voice—­asking quite close to me: 

“Which is he?  Oh! you need not answer, dear.  I know him from the description.”

“Yes,” replied Lord Ragnall to Miss Holmes—­for it was she—­“you are quite right.  I will introduce you to him presently.  But, love, whom do you wish to take you in to dinner?  I can’t—­your mother, you know; and as there are no titles here to-night, you may make your choice.  Would you like old Dr. Jeffreys, the clergyman?”

“No,” she replied, with quiet firmness, “I know him; he took me in once before.  I wish Mr. Allan Quatermain to take me in.  He is interesting, and I want to hear about Africa.”

“Very well,” he answered, “and he is more interesting than all the rest put together.  But, Luna, why are you always thinking and talking about Africa?  One might imagine that you were going to live there.”

“So I may one day,” she answered dreamily.  “Who knows where one has lived, or where one will live!” And again I saw that mystic look come into her face.

I heard no more of that conversation, which it is improbable that anyone whose ears had not been sharpened by a lifetime of listening in great silences would have caught at all.  To tell the truth, I made myself scarce, slipping off to the other end of the big room in the hope of evading the kind intentions of Miss Holmes.  I have a great dislike of being put out of my place, and I felt that among all these local celebrities it was not fitting that I should be selected to take in the future bride on an occasion of this sort.  But it was of no use, for presently Lord Ragnall hunted me up, bringing the young lady with him.