Sir Edward takes Lady Woodhouse out to the carriage, Lord Hinton following with Doris.
Mr. Ernest Hildyard, who has been leaning against the wall consumed with jealousy of his successful rival John Sinclair for the best part of the evening, on seeing this move rushes forward, inspired by one last glimmer of hope, and is about to offer his arm to Honor, when Sinclair with a little triumphant smile strides forward and quietly takes possession of her.
The disappointed youth falls back to Molly's side just as one of Mrs. Cunnyngham's sons also reaches her; but with a little smile at the latter Molly puts her hand on young Hildyard's arm, and Cunnyngham, understanding her smile, steps back, liking her all the better for the little kind-hearted act.
Both brothers, however, accompany her as well, and there is quite a merry leave-taking amongst them all as the gentlemen stand congregated on the lowest step, after having seen their fair charges stowed away in the fly. The first rosy streaks of dawn are appearing in the east as they drive away from the Court, and poor Lady Woodhouse, tired and shivery, throws herself back in her seat exclaiming:
"There! thank goodness that is over. I would not go through it all again, no, not if I were paid for it!" Mary is in attendance with the goloshes as the fly draws up at the gate, and they all go as quietly and softly into the house and up the stairs as if, as Doris says, they were housebreakers.
The girls follow their aunt into her room and help her out of her finery, as she calls it.
"Why, dear me," says the good lady, sinking into a chair, "you girls look as fresh as larks even now—excepting Molly perhaps: the child looks pale. Get me my night-cap somebody, I am dying to get this lace arrangement off. That diamond pin has been running into my head the best part of the evening."
"Poor Aunt!" says Doris. "Take off your cap and I'll have the other ready in a minute." And the naughty girl winks at Honor as she turns away to look for it.
Molly, however, too tired for jokes, is before her, and is already standing by her aunt with the night-cap in her hands.
"That's a good girl," says Lady Woodhouse, drawing her face down and kissing it. "And now be off, all of you. You have already lost several hours of beauty-sleep, and you will be looking as haggard as old women to-morrow!" And kissing them all affectionately, she dismisses her three maids for the night, or more correctly speaking, morning.