A wild conjecture flashed across her brain, and her hand clutched his spasmodically, while her heart seemed to stand still. Was Mr. Chesley her father?

Before she could collect her thoughts, he turned away and left the room, accompanied by Mr. Palma, who during the evening bad not once glanced toward her.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mrs. Carew had arrived on Tuesday morning, and announced that a previous engagement would limit her visit to Sat.u.r.day, at which time she had promised to become the guest of a friend on Murray Hill.

During Wednesday and Thursday the house was thronged with visitors.

There was company to dinner and to luncheon, and every imaginable tribute paid to the taste and vanity of the beautiful woman, who accepted the incense offered as flowers the dew of heaven, and stars the light that const.i.tutes their glory. Accustomed from her cradle to adulation and indulgence, she had a pretty, yet imperious manner of exacting it from all who ventured within her circle; and could not forgive the cool indifference which generally characterized Olga's behaviour.

Too well-bred to be guilty of rudeness, the latter contrived in a very adroit way to defy every proposition advanced by the fair guest, and while she never transcended the bounds of courtesy, she piqued and hara.s.sed and puzzled not only Mrs. Carew, but Mr. Palma.

At ten o'clock on Thursday night, when the guests invited to dinner had departed, and the family circle had collected in the sitting-room to await the carriage which would convey the ladies to a Wedding Reception, Mrs. Carew came downstairs magnificently attired in a delicate green satin, covered with an over dress of exquisite white lace, and adorned with a profusion of emeralds and pearls.

Her hair was arranged in a unique style (which Olga denominated "Isis fashion"), and above her forehead rested a jewelled lotos, the petals of large pearls, the leaves of emeralds.

As she stood before the grate, with the white lace shawl slipping from her shoulders, and exposing the bare gleaming bust, Olga exclaimed:

"O Queen of the Nile! What Antony awaits your smiles?"

As if aware that she were scrutinized, the grey eyes, sank to the carpet, then met Olga's.

"Miss Neville is not the only person who has found in me a resemblance to the Egyptian sorceress. When I return to Italy, Story shall immortalize me in connection with his own impa.s.sioned poem. Let me see, how does it begin:

'Here, Charmian, take my bracelets.'"

She pa.s.sed her hand across her low wide brow, and, glancing furtively at Mr. Palma, she daringly repeated the strongest pa.s.sages of the poem, while her flute-like tones seemed to gather additional witchery.

Sitting in one corner, with an open book in her hand, Regina looked at her and listened, fascinated by her singular beauty, but astonished at the emphasis with which she recited imagery that tinged the girl's cheek with red.

"If there be a 'c.o.c.katoo' in Gotham, doubtless you will own it to-morrow. But forgive me, oh, Cleopatra! if I venture the heresy that Story's poem--gorgeous, though I grant it--leaves a bad taste in one's mouth, like richly spiced wine, hot and sweet and deliciously intoxicating; but beware of to-morrow! 'Sometimes the poison of asps is not confined to fig-baskets; and with your permission, I should like to offer you an infallible antidote, Seraph of the Nile?"

Mrs. Carew smiled defiantly, and inclined her head, interpreting the lurking challenge in Olga's fiery hazel eyes.

Leaning a little forward to note the effect, the latter began and recited with much skill the entire words of "Maud Muller." Whenever the name of the Judge was p.r.o.nounced, she looked at Mr. Palma, and there was peculiar emphasis in her rendition of the lines:

"But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love tune.

He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power."

How had Olga discovered the secret which he believed so securely locked in his own heart? Not a muscle moved in his cold guarded face, but a faint flush stole across his cheek as he met her sparkling gaze.

Mrs. Carew's rosy lip curled scornfully:

"My dear Miss Neville, should you ever be smitten by the blasts of adversity, your charming recitative talent would prove wonderfully remunerative upon the stage."

"Thanks! but my observation leads me to believe that at the present day the profession of the Sycophants pays the heaviest dividends.

Does Cleopatra's fondness for figs enable her to appreciate my worldly wisdom?"

Regina knew that Olga meant mischief to both host and guest, and though she did not comprehend the drift of her laughing words, she noticed the sudden smile that flashed over her guardian's countenance, and the perplexed expression of Mrs. Carew's eyes.

"Miss Neville has as usual floundered into her favourite blue mire, whose stale sc.r.a.ps of learning cannot tempt me to pursuit."

"Not into the mud of the Nile, oh celestial Isis! but into the cla.s.sic lore of h.e.l.las. Ask Mr. Palma why I am opposed to smuggling figs, especially rose-coloured figs?"

Olga's light laugh was particularly irritating and disagreeable at that moment, and her mother, who was a ubiquitous flag of truce on such occasions, hastened to interpose.

"My daughter, what possible connection can Mrs. Carew or anybody else find between the habit of sycophancy and baskets of figs?"

"Dear mamma, to explain it to you might be construed into an unfilial and irreverent reflection upon the insufficiency of your education, and of that admission nothing could induce me to be guilty. But Regina yonder is still in the clutches of Dominie Sampson, and as she is such an innocent stupid young dove, I will have mercy upon her curiously questioning eyes. My dear rustic 'Maud,' Sycophants means _fig-blabbers_; and when you are patient enough to study, and wise enough to appreciate Plutarch, you will learn the derivation of the t.i.tle which justly belongs to mult.i.tudes of people."

Making as near an approach to a grimace as the lines of grace (which she never violated) would permit, Mrs. Carew lifted one shoulder almost out of its satin fetters, and turned to her host.

"Miss Neville should have reigned at the Hotel de Rambouillet when _precieuse_ was more honoured than now. I fear if society suspected the vastness of her learning, it would create a panic wherever she goes."

Olga was leaving the room, had almost reached the door, but at the last words turned, and her face sparkled mischievously.

"Beautiful Egypt is acquainted with sphinxes, and should be quick at guessing riddles. Will Cleopatra or Antony answer my conundrum? When my erudition creates a panic, why am I like those who dwelt about Chemmis, when the tragical fate of Osiris was accomplished?"

Mr. Palma answered promptly:

"Because the Pans who inhabited that region were the first who learned of the disaster, and as they spread the fatal news among the people, all sudden public frights and shocks have been ever since called panics. The carriage is ready. We shall be late at the wedding. Olga, where is your shawl?"

As they quitted the room together, he added in an undertone:

"Your Parthian warfare would have justified me in returning your arrow, but I was never an expert in the use of small arms."

With her hand upon the bal.u.s.trade of the stairs, which she was ascending, Olga looked down on him, and her eyes blazed with an intensity of scorn and defiance.

"To your empty quiver, not your leniency, I am indebted for my safety. Your arrows were all skilfully barbed, and even the venom of asps distilled upon them; but you have done your worst, and failed.

Parthian tactics ill suit my temper, let me tell you, and just now I should infinitely prefer the Scythian style. Were I only for one brief hour Tomyris, I would carry your head, sir, where she held that of Cyrus, in a bag."

He walked on to the front door, and those in the sitting-room heard Olga run up the steps, singing with _gusto_ that strain from Far Diavolo, ending, "Diavolo! Diavolo!"

The "Cantata of Undine" had been composed by a gifted and fashionable _amateur_, and was performed by young people who belonged to _le beau monde_, consequently at an early hour on Friday evening, the house was crowded to witness the appearance of a constellation of _amateurs_, among whom Regina shone resplendent. When after the opening chorus, she came first upon the stage, and stood watching the baton of the leader, a b.u.m of admiration rose from the audience.

The costume was of some silvery gauze that hung like mist around her slender figure, and was encrusted here and there with the fragile white water-lilies that matched the spray which twined across her head, and strayed down among the unbound hair now floating free, far below her waist.

Very pale but calm, she began her solo, at first a little tremulously, but by degrees the rich voice gained its strength, a.s.serted its spell, and n.o.bly fulfilled the promise of Professor Hurtzsel, that New York should hear that night its finest _contralto_.

Startled by the burst of applause that succeeded her song, she looked for the first time at the audience, and saw her guardian's tall conspicuous figure leaning against a column near the spot where Mrs.

Carew sat.

Very grave, coolly critical, and quite preoccupied he certainly looked, and none would have dreamed that the slight motion of his lips meant "My Lily."