Chapter XXX
Beatrice never recollected how the ball ended; to her it was one long trance of happiness. She heard the music, the murmur of voices, as though in a dream. There were times when everything seemed brighter than usual—that was when Lord Airlie stood by her side. Her heart was filled with unutterable joy.
It was strange, but in that hour of happiness she never even thought of Hugh Fernely; the remembrance of him never once crossed her mind. Nothing marred the fullness of her content.
She stood by Lord Earle's side as guest after guest came up to say adieu. She saw Lord Airlie waiting for her father.
"Lord Earle will be engaged for some time, I fear," he said; "I must see him tonight. Beatrice, promise me you will not go to rest until your father has given us his consent."
She could not oppose him. When girls like Beatrice Earle once learn to love, there is something remarkable in the complete abandonment of their will. She would fain have told him, with gay, teasing words, that he had won concession enough for one night; as it was, she simply promised to do as he wished.
Lord Earle received the parting compliments of his guests, wondering at the same time why Lord Airlie kept near him and seemed unwilling to lose sight of him. The happy moment arrived when the last carriage rolled away, and the family at Earlescourt were left alone. Lady Earle asked the two young girls to go into her room for half an hour to "talk over the ball." Lionel, sorry the evening was over, retired to his room; then Hubert Airlie went to Lord Earle and asked if he might speak with him for ten minutes.
"Will it not do tomorrow?" inquired Ronald, smiling, as he held up his watch. "See, it is past three o'clock."
"No," replied Lord Airlie; "I could not pass another night in suspense."
"Come with me, then," said the master of Earlescourt, as he led the way to the library, where the lamps were still alight.