He did not cease his visits to Madame della Scala's house, nor try to set up an artificial barrier between himself and his love. Why then should she? He would not have this coldness, this conventionality of demeanor, he told himself; and yet he hardly knew how to beat it down. For he certainly had no right to demand that she should treat him as her lover when he was engaged--or half engaged--to marry Enid Vane. He came one evening in May, and found her on the point of starting for a _soirée_ where she was to sing. She was _en grande tenue_ for the occasion, dressed, after an old Venetian picture, in dull red brocade, point-lace, and gold ornaments. He had given her the ornaments himself--golden serpents with ruby eyes--which she had admired in a jeweller's window. But for the rest of her dress she was in no wise indebted to him; she had been making money lately, and could afford herself a pretty gown. She received him, he thought, a little coolly--perhaps only because Madame della Scala was sitting by--gave him the tips of her fingers, and declared that she must go almost immediately. It turned out that he was bound for the same place; and Madame at once asked him to escort them thither--the carriage would be at the door at half-past nine o'clock. "I shall be only too happy," said Mr. Lepel, "if you will allow me such an honor. And, in the meantime, it is not yet nine o'clock, Cynthia; so, in spite of your impatience, you cannot start quite 'immediately.' What is there so attractive at the Gores' this evening that you wish to set off so early?" "Oh, nothing--I did not know the time!" said Cynthia. She did not reply jestingly, after her usual fashion; she sat down languidly, and spread her heavy skirts around her so as to make a sort of silken barrier between herself and Hubert. He bit his lip a little as he looked at her. "Our little bird is not quite herself," said Madame, with a side grimace at Hubert which she did not want Cynthia to see. "She has what our neighbors call '_la migraine_,' monsieur. She has never been well since the return of her old uncle from America, whose fortune--if he has a fortune--does not seem likely to do any of us any good--her least of all." Cynthia lowered her head a little and darted a sudden and fierce glance at her teacher and chaperon--a glance of which Hubert guessed the meaning. She had never mentioned this "uncle from America" to him; probably she had told Madame not to do so either, and the little Italian lady had broken her compact. Madame della Scala laughed and spread out her hands deprecatingly.