“But--I tell you, you never heard such a voice; the compass of it--the sweetness of it! _simpatica_ beyond what words can say--fresh as a lark’s--up to anything you can put before her--and with such power of expression. We shall be fools, utter fools, if we neglect such a chance.” “You are very warm,” said the manager, rubbing his hands. “She is pretty, I suppose?” “No,” said Rollo; “she is beautiful--and with the carriage of a queen.” (Poor Lottie, in her white frock; how little she knew that there was anything queenlike about her!) “Come down and see her. That is all I ask of you. Come and hear her----” “Where may that be?” said the Manager. “I am leaving town on Monday. Can’t we have her up to your rooms, or somewhere at hand?” “My rooms!” said Rollo, thunderstruck. He knew very little about Lottie, except that she was a poor Chevalier’s daughter; but he felt that he could have as easily invited one of the Princesses to come and sing in his rooms, that the representatives of the new opera company might judge of her gifts. His face grew so long that his colleague laughed. “Is she a personage then, Ridsdale? Is she one of your great friends?” he said. “She is one of my--friends; but she is not a great personage,” said Rollo, gloomily, pulling the little peaked beard which he cultivated, and thinking that it would be as difficult to get his manager invited to the Deanery as it would be to bring Lottie to Jermyn Street. These were difficulties which he had not foreseen. He went over the circumstances hurriedly, trying to think what he could do. Could he venture to go in suddenly to the Chevalier’s lodge, as he had done with Lady Caroline’s credentials in his pocket, but this time without any credentials, and without further ceremony proceed to test the powers of the girl, who he knew was not always compliant nor to be reckoned on? What if she should decline to be tried? What if she had no intention of becoming a singer at all? What if the Manager should condemn her voice as untrained (which it was), or even mistake it altogether, mixing it up with the cracked tones of the old piano, and the jingle of the Abbey bells? He had not thought of all these difficulties before. He had not taken time to ask if Lottie would be docile, if Lady Caroline would be complaisant. He pulled his beard, his face growing longer and longer. At last he said,-- “I’ll tell you what we can do. We can go to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy----” “Who on earth is Mrs. O’Shaughnessy?” said the Manager. “But very likely there is no piano there! You see, this is a difficulty I did not think of. I have heard this lady only in the house of--one of my relations, a very rigid old person, who hates theatres, and thinks opera an invention of the devil.” How Rollo dared slander poor Lady Caroline so, who liked an opera-box as well as any one else, it is impossible to say.