was no simple maiden in a suit of serge, but a young woman of commanding presence, whose long cloak of tan-colored velvet, with its hanging sleeves showing a flash of crimson, seemed to Nina to have a sort of royal magnificence about it.  And yet her manner appeared to be very simple and gentle; she smiled as she talked to Miss Burgoyne; and the last that Nina saw of her—­as they all left together in the direction of the corridor, Lionel obsequiously attending them—­was that the tall young lady walked with a most gracious carriage.  Nina made sure that they had all disappeared before she, too, went down the steps; then she made her way to her own room, to get ready for the final act.  Miss Girond, of course, was also here; but Nina had no word for Estelle; she seemed preoccupied about something.

Never had Harry Thornhill dressed so quickly; and when, in his gay costume of flowered silk and ruffles, tied wig and buckled shoes, he tapped at Miss Burgoyne’s door and entered, he found that this young lady was still in the curtained apartment, though she had sent out Jane to see that her two visitors were being looked after.  Lionel, too, helped himself to some tea; and it was with a singular feeling of relief that he discovered, as he presently did, that both Lady Cunyngham and her daughter were quite charmed with the piece, so far as they had seen it.  They appeared to put the farcicality altogether aside, and to have been much impressed by the character of the music.

“What a pretty girl that Miss Ross is!” said the younger of the two ladies, incidentally.  “But she is not English, is she?  I thought I could detect a trace of foreign accent here and there.”

“No, she is Italian,” Lionel made answer.  “Her name is really Rossi—­Antonia Rossi—­but her intimate friends call her Nina.”

“What a beautiful voice she has!” Miss Honnor continued.  “So fresh and pure and sweet.  I think she has a far more beautiful voice than—­”

He quickly held up his hand, and the hint was taken.

“And she puts such life into her part—­she seems to be really light-hearted and merry,” resumed Miss Honnor, who appeared to have been much taken by Nina’s manner on the stage.  “Do you know, Mr. Moore, I could not help to-night thinking more than once of “The Chaplet” and my sisters and their amateur friends.  The difference between an amateur performance and a performance of trained artists is so marvellous; it doesn’t seem to me to be one of degree at all; at an amateur performance, however clever it may be, I am conscious all the time that the people are assuming something quite foreign to themselves, whereas on the stage the people seem to be the actual characters they profess to be.  I forget they are actors and actresses—­”

“You must be a good audience, Miss Cunyngham,” said he (it used to be “Miss Honnor” in Strathaivron, but that was some time ago—­then he was not decked out and painted for exhibition on the stage).