But she got no more of it; for, just then, the singer began to sing
to the select few who remained, and every one was silent. Leaning on
the high back of Christie's chair, David watched the reflection of
her face in the long mirror; for she listened to the music with
downcast eyes, unconscious what eloquent expressions were passing
over her countenance. She seemed a new Christie to David, in that
excited mood; and, as he watched her, he thought:
"She loved this man once, or he loved her; and tonight it all comes
back to her. How will it end?"
So earnestly did he try to read that altered face that Christie felt
the intentness of his gaze, looked up suddenly, and met his eyes in
the glass. Something in the expression of those usually serene eyes,
now darkened and dilated with the intensity of that long scrutiny,
surprised and troubled her; and, scarcely knowing what she said, she
asked quickly:
"Who are you admiring?"
"Not myself."
"I wonder if you'd think me vain if I asked you something that I
want to know?" she said, obeying a sudden impulse.
"Ask it, and I'll tell you."
"Am I much changed since you first knew me?"
"Very much."
"For the better or the worse?"
"The better, decidedly.
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