‘It’s that billiard-room; I tried to make Charlie shut it up. But we’ll disinter him; I’ll rush in like a sky-rocket, and scatter the gentlemen to all quarters.’
‘No, no, don’t!’ cried Phœbe, alarmed, and catching hold of her. ‘It is not that, but Robin is gone.’
‘Atrocious,’ returned Cilly, disconcerted, but resolved that Phœbe should not perceive it; ‘so we are both under a severe infliction,—both ashamed of our brothers.’
‘I am not ashamed of mine,’ said Phœbe, in a tone of gravity.
‘Ah! there’s the truant,’ said Lucilla, turning aside. ‘Owen, where have you hidden yourself? I hope you are ready to sink into the earth with shame at hearing you have rubbed off the bloom from a young lady’s first ball.’
‘No! it was not he who did so,’ stoutly replied Phœbe.
‘Ah! it was all the consequence of the green and white; I told you it was a sinister omen,’ said Owen, chasing away a shade of perplexity from his brow, and assuming a certain air that Phœbe had never seen before, and did not like. ‘At least you will be merciful, and allow me to retrieve my character.’
‘You had nothing to retrieve,’ said Phœbe, in the most straightforward manner; ‘it was very good in you to take care of poor Miss Murrell. What became of her? Lucy said you would know.’
‘I—I?’ he exclaimed, so vehemently as to startle her by the fear of having ignorantly committed some egregious blunder; ‘I’m the last person to know.’
‘The last to be seen with the murdered always falls under suspicion,’ said Lucilla.