And he had known how to choose a wife, too, for his lady, hanging opposite to him, with her sunny brown hair drawn away in bands from her mild grave face, and falling in two large rich curls on her snowy gently-sloping neck, which shamed the harsher hue and outline of her white satin robe, was a fit mother of 'large-acred' heirs.
In this room tea was served; and here, every evening, as regularly as the great clock in the court-yard with deliberate bass tones struck nine, Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel sat down to picquet until half-past ten, when Mr.Gilfil read prayers to the assembled household in the chapel.
But now it was not near nine, and Caterina must sit down to the harpsichord and sing Sir Christopher's favourite airs from Gluck's 'Orfeo', an opera which, for the happiness of that generation, was then to be heard on the London stage.

It happened this evening that the sentiment of these airs, '_Che faro senza Eurydice ?_' and '_Ho perduto il bel sembiante_', in both of which the singer pours out his yearning after his lost love, came very close to Caterina's own feeling.

But her emotion, instead of being a hindrance to her singing, gave her additional power.

Her singing was what she could do best; it was her one point of superiority, in which it was probable she would excel the highborn beauty whom Anthony was to woo; and her love, her jealousy, her pride, her rebellion against her destiny, made one stream of passion which welled forth in the deep rich tones of her voice.

She had a rare contralto, which Lady Cheverel, who had high musical taste, had been careful to preserve her from straining.
'Excellent, Caterina,' said Lady Cheverel, as there was a pause after the wonderful linked sweetness of '_Che faro_'.