“I fear I am not equal to the effort, though I was very anxious to be there.”
“Then, when the note goes to the doctor, William can take one at the same time to Lady Praed, to ask her to chaperon me to the concert.”
“If you wish it,” replied the lady faintly. “Would you be so good, my dear, as to close that window? the cold seems to pierce through my frame.”
“Cold! nonsense, aunt! How can you talk of cold on such a grilling morning as this? If I were to keep the window shut we should be stifled, there’s not a breath of air in this hot, narrow street.”
Lady Selina was too weak and languid to dispute the point with her niece; she only sighed, shivered, and drew her wrapper closer around her.
The day was a long, weary one to Lady Selina; she spent it chiefly in peevish complainings, to which the only listeners were her medical man and her maid. Towards evening, however, she rallied; and Arabella was surprised on descending to the drawing-room, to await the arrival of Lady Praed, to find Lady Selina there, also ready attired for the concert. What mocking brilliancy appeared in the diamonds which gleamed beside those ghastly and withered features! How ill the robe of amber satin beseemed the shrunken form that wore it! The painful incongruity, however, did not attract the attention of Arabella.
“I wish, aunt, that you knew your own mind,” she said impatiently to Lady Selina; “if you were determined to go yourself, there was no need to ask a favour of Lady Praed. I really don’t see now how we are to manage; we have not ordered our own carriage, and there will not be room in hers for three. My new dress will be crushed to a mummy!” and the young lady shook out the rustling folds with a very dissatisfied air.
Whether in consideration to Arabella’s moire antique, or (as is more probable) from feeling herself, when the moment for decision arrived, quite unable to go to the party, Lady Selina, on Lady Praed’s calling for her niece, finally determined on remaining behind. Arabella did not conceal her satisfaction, and passed her evening gaily amongst a fashionable throng, without giving even a thought to the poor invalid, except when inquiries concerning her health were made as a necessary form, and answered with careless unconcern.
It was midnight when Arabella returned. The servant, as she entered the house of her aunt, addressed her with the words, “Her ladyship has not yet gone to her room.”
“Not gone to rest yet! that’s strange!” cried Arabella; and with rather a quickened step she proceeded at once to the room in which she had left Lady Selina.