"Poverty, ignorance, and vulgarity go together, usually, I believe." St.Leon gave her a rapid, searching glance, in which disappointment was mingled, but before he could reply there was the sound of music.
It was a sweet, bird-like voice which floated through the rooms, and the song it sang was a favorite one of St.Leon's, who was passionately fond of music.
"Let us go nearer," said he to Lucy, who, nothing loath, accompanied him, for she, too, was anxious to know who it was that thus chained each listener into silence.
St.Leon at length got a sight of the singer, and said with evident pleasure, "Why, it's Miss Harcourt!" "Miss Harcourt! Ada Harcourt!" exclaimed Lucy.

"Impossible! Why, her mother daily toils for the bread they eat!" But if St.Leon heard her, he answered not.

His senses were locked in those strains of music which recalled memories of something, he scarcely knew what, and Lucy found herself standing alone, her heart swelling with anger toward Ada, who from that time was her hated rival.

The music ceased, but scores of voices were loud in their call for another song; and again Ada sang, but this time there was in the tones of her voice a thrilling power, for which those who listened could not account.

To Ada the atmosphere about her seemed charmed, for though she never for a moment raised her eyes, she well knew who it was that leaned upon the piano and looked intently upon her.