Never had he so successfully exerted the singular, the master-fascination
that he could command at will,--the more powerful from its contrast to
his ordinary coldness. In the very expression of his eyes, the very tone
of his voice, there was that in Maltravers, seen at his happier moments,
which irresistibly interested and absorbed your attention: he could make
you forget everything but himself, and the rich, easy, yet earnest
eloquence, which gave colour to his language and melody to his voice. In
that hour of renewed intercourse with one who had at first awakened, if
not her heart, at least her imagination and her deeper thoughts, certain
it is that even Legard was not missed. As she smiled and listened,
Evelyn dreamed not of the anguish she inflicted. Leaning against the
box, Legard surveyed the absorbed attention of Evelyn, the adoring eyes
of Maltravers, with that utter and crushing wretchedness which no passion
but jealousy, and that only while it is yet a virgin agony, can bestow!
He had never before even dreamed of rivalry in such a quarter; but there
was that ineffable instinct, which lovers have, and which so seldom errs,
that told him at once that in Maltravers was the greatest obstacle his
passion could encounter. He waited in hopes that Evelyn would take the
occasion to turn to him at least--when the fourth act closed. She did
not; and, unable to constrain his emotions, and reply to the small-talk
of Lord Doltimore, he abruptly quitted the box.

When the opera was over, Maltravers offered his arm to Evelyn; she
accepted it, and then she looked round for Legard. He was gone.