She once questioned Mrs. Thornton, but received no satisfaction. Mrs. Thornton looked mysterious, but shook her head. “Your brother treats her like a divinity.” “I suppose he thinks she is something more than mortal.” “Do you have that awe of her which I feel?” “Yes; and so does every one. I feel toward her as though she belonged to another world. She takes no interest in this.” “She nursed me.” “Oh yes! Every act of love or kindness which she can perform she seeks out and does, but now as you grow better she falls back upon herself.” Surrounded by such friends as these Beatrice rapidly regained her strength. Weeks went on, and at length she began to move about, to take long rides and drives, and to stroll through the Park. During these weeks Paolo made known to her his plans. She embraced them eagerly. “You have a mission,” said he. “It was not for nothing that your divine voice was given to you. I have written my opera under the most extraordinary circumstances. You know what it is. Never have I been able to decide how it should be represented. I have prayed for a Voice. At my time of need you were thrown in my way. My Bice, God has sent you. Let us labor together.” Beatrice grasped eagerly at this idea. To be a singer, to interpret the thoughts of Langhetti, seemed delightful to her. She would then be dependent on no friend. She would be her own mistress. She would not be forced to lead a life of idleness, with her heart preying upon itself. Music would come to her aid. It would be at once the purpose, the employment, and the delight of her life. If there was one thing to her which could alleviate sorrow and grief it was the exultant joy which was created within her by the Divine Art--that Art which alone is common to earth and heaven. And for Beatrice there was this joy, that she had one of those natures which was so sensitive to music that under its power heaven itself appeared to open before her. All these were lovers of music, and therefore had delights to which common mortals are strangers. To the soul which is endowed with the capacity for understanding the delights of tone there are joys peculiar, at once pure and enduring, which nothing else that this world gives can equal. Langhetti was the high-priest of this charmed circle. Edith was the presiding or inspiring divinity. Beatrice was the medium of utterance--the Voice that brought down heaven to earth. Mrs. Thornton and Despard stood apart, the recipients of the sublime effects and holy emotions which the others wrought out within them. Edith was like the soul. Langhetti like the mind. Beatrice resembled the material element by which the spiritual is communicated to man. Hers was the Voice which spoke.