There she sat with her husband and another woman, whom he recognized as one of those kind creatures who go everywhere in society and help strangers when suitably compensated for their trouble.

Where on earth could she have come across Mrs. Devlyn? he wondered.  A poisonous woman, who would fill her ears with tales of all the world.  Then he guessed, and rightly, the introduction had been effected by Captain Fitzgerald, who would probably have known her in his own day.

Theodora appeared wrapped in the music, and was an enthralling picture of loveliness; her fineness seemed to make all the women’s faces who were near look coarse, and her whiteness turned them into gypsies.  She wore a gown of black velvet with no relief whatever, only her dazzling skin and her great pearls.  He feasted his eyes upon her—­eyes hungry with a week’s abstinence; for he had felt it more prudent to remain in Paris for some days after she had left.

He looked round the rest of the house, and understood all the other men could, and probably would, gaze too.  And then he began to feel hot and jealous!  This was different from Paris, where she was more or less a tourist; but here, how long would she be left in peace without siege being laid to her?  He knew his world and the men it contained.  Yes, at that moment the door at the back of the box opened and Delaval Stirling came in, Josiah Brown making way for him to sit in front.  Delaval Stirling—­this was too much!

And Theodora turned with her adorable smile and greeted him, so it showed they had met before—­greeted him with pleasure.  Good God!  How much could happen in a week!  Why had he stayed in Paris?

If Morella Winmarleigh had glanced round at his face, even her thick perceptions must have grasped the disturbance which was marked there, as he stood back in the shadow and gazed with angry eyes.

The moment she had seen him come into the box Mrs. Devlyn had said, “I want you to notice a man over there, Mrs. Brown, in the box exactly opposite; on the grand tier—­do you see?”

“Yes,” said Theodora, and she perceived him shaking hands with Miss Winmarleigh before he caught sight of her, so she was forearmed and turned to the stage.

“He is nice-looking, don’t you think so?” continued Mrs. Devlyn, without a pause.  “He is going to marry that girl in the box; she is one of the richest heiresses of the day—­Miss Winmarleigh.  I always point out Hector Bracondale to strangers or foreigners; he is quite a show Englishman.”

“Bracondale?  Lord Bracondale?” interrupted Josiah Brown.  “We met him in Paris, did we not, my love?” turning to Theodora.  “He dined with us our last evening.  Where is he?”

“Oh, you know him, then!” said Mrs. Devlyn, disappointed.  “I wanted to be the first to point him out to you.  They will make a handsome pair, won’t they—­he and Miss Winmarleigh?”

“Very,” said Theodora, listlessly, with an air of dragging her thoughts from the music with difficulty, while she suddenly felt sick and cold.