They had reached the door of Belle Vue Mansion; and when he was begged to go in for half an hour, Heriot did not demur. They had the drawing-room to themselves now, and Cheriton descanted with relish on the qualifications for a successful actress. He had no knowledge of the subject, but possessed great fluency, and he spoke of "broad effects," and "communicable emotion," and "what he might call a matter of perspective" with an authority which came near to disguising the fact that there was little or no meaning in what he said. The girl sat pale and attentive, and Mrs. Baines listened vaguely, as she might have done to a discourse in Chinese. Relatives who came back from America and invited her to stay with them in a house where she cost two guineas a week, must be treated with deference; but the stage and the circus were of equal significance to her mind, and she would have simpered just as placidly if her niece had been anxious to jump through a hoop. Her chief emotion was pride at being in a room with a barrister who, she had learnt, was the brother of a baronet; and she watched him furtively, with the anticipation of describing the event in Lavender Street, Wandsworth, where the magnate was a gentleman who travelled in a brougham, and haberdashery. "Would it be inconsiderate to ask you to recite to-night, Miss Cheriton?" inquired Heriot. "Don't, if you are too tired." She rose at once, as if compelling herself to subdue reluctance, and moved towards the bay of the window slowly. For a second or two after she stood there she did not speak, only her lips trembled. Then she began Portia's speech on Mercy. In recitation her voice had the slight tremolo that is natural to many beginners who feel deeply; but its quality was delicious, and her obvious earnestness was not without effect. Conscious that her gestures were stiff, she had chosen a speech that demanded little action, and it was not until she came to "Therefore, Jew, though justice be thy plea," that her hands, which she had clasped lightly in front of her, fell apart. With the change of position she seemed to acquire a dignity and confidence that made the climax triumphant, and though Heriot could see that she had much to learn, his compliments were sincere. When he bade her good-night, she looked at him appealingly. "Tell me the truth," she said under her breath; "I've only had my father's opinion. Tell me the truth!" "I honestly believe you're clever," he answered. "I'm sure of it." He felt his words to be very cold compared with the sympathy that was stirring in him. The proprietress, who had entered, hovered about with an eye on the gas, and he repeated his adieux hurriedly. The interest that he already took in the question of Miss Cheriton's success surprised him. The day had had a charm that was new, and he found that he was eagerly anticipating the morrow. CHAPTER III