But here Lionel drew the manager still further aside; and then ensued a conversation which neither Nina nor Mr. Carey could in the least overhear.  At the end of it Mr. Lehmann nodded acquiescence, and said, “Very well, then;” and straightway he departed, for he was a busy man, and had little time to waste on the smaller courtesies of life—­especially in the case of debutantes.

Lionel returned to the young lady whose fate had just been decided.

“That’s all right, Nina,” he said.  “You are engaged as under-study to Mlle. Girond, and you’ll have three pounds a week as soon as you have studied her business and are ready to take the part when you’re wanted.  I will find you a full score, and you may get up some of the other music, when you’ve nothing better to do.  The rehearsals of the under-studies begin on Monday—­but I’ll see you before then and let you know all about it.  You won’t mind my running away?—­I’m on in the first scene.  There is Mrs. Grey waiting for you—­you must go and get something to eat—­and when you come back, call at the stage-door, and you’ll find an envelope waiting for you, with two places in it—­the dress circle, if it can be managed, for I want you to be some distance away from the orchestra.  Good-bye, Nina!”

She held his hand for a moment.

“Leo, I thank you,” she said, regarding him with her dark eyes; and then he smiled and waved another farewell to her as he disappeared; and she was left to make her way with her patient chaperon out of this great, hollow, portentous building, that was now resounding with mysterious clankings and calls.

And it was from a couple of seats in the back of the dress-circle that Mrs. Grey and her young charge heard the comedy-opera of “The Squire’s Daughter;” and Lionel knew they were there; and no doubt he sang his best—­for, if Nina had been showing off what she could do in the morning, why should he not show off now, amid all these added glories of picturesque costumes and surroundings?  Nina was in an extraordinary state of excitement, which she was unable altogether to conceal.  Mrs. Grey could hear the little, muttered exclamations in Italian; she could see how intently that expressive face followed the progress of the piece, reflecting its every movement, as it were; she caught a glimpse of tears on the long, dark lashes when Lionel was singing, with impassioned fervor, his love-lorn serenade; and then the next moment she was astonished by the vehemence of the girl’s delight when the vast house thundered forth its applause—­indeed, Nina herself was clapping her hands furiously, to join in the universal roar of a recall—­she was laughing with joy—­she appeared to have gone mad.  Then, at the end of the second act, she said, quickly,

“Mrs. Grey, can I send to him a note?—­is there letter-paper?”

“Well, my dear, if we go into the refreshment-room and have a cup of tea, perhaps one of the young ladies could give us a sheet of writing-paper.”