The poor girl’s grief became more violent.
“You must compose yourself, my dear; you will make yourself ill. A fall is a great shock to the nerves.”
Ernest had left the room as the lady entered, and now silently offered to his cousin’s trembling hand a glass of sal volatile and water.
“You had better go to bed at once,” said Mrs. Hope. “’Tis such a pity; all ready dressed for the ball! I must go, for I could not disappoint Lady Fitzwigram, and I believe that the Duchess is to be there. Clayton will take excellent care of you, I am sure. Come, Ernest and Charles, I see that you are ready.”
“And I am to be left all alone, and on this night, just when I expected to be so happy!” sobbed Clementina.
“I should like to stay with her, I should indeed,” said Ernest to his aunt; “I hope that you will not object to my doing so.”
“Why, what will Lady Fitzwigram say?”
“She will not care; she has never seen me but once. You will be so kind as to make my excuses.”
“Well, it is very considerate of you, certainly. I don’t know what to say,” replied Mrs. Hope, very well pleased to be able to tell a fashionable circle that Lord Fontonore had stayed behind because her daughter could not come. So the matter was soon decided; the carriage moved off slowly with Mrs. Hope and Charles, and Ernest and his weeping cousin were left behind, to spend the rest of the evening quietly together.