CHAPTER XVIII. — THE EVIL STAR
Lancelot said,
That were against me, what I can I will;
And there that day remained.—TENNYSON.
It was on the night before the final bustle and fury, so to speak, of preparation were to set in, when arrivals were expected, and the sellers were in commotion, and he had been all day putting the singers one by one through their parts, that as he went to his room at night, there was a knock at Lancelot’s door, and Gerald came in, looking deadly white. He had been silent and effaced all the evening, and his aunt had thought him tired, but he had rather petulantly eluded inquiry, and now he came in with—
“Lance, I must have it out with some one.”
“An Oxford scrape?” said Lance.
“Oh no, I wish it was only that.” Then a silence, while Lance looked at him, thinking, “What trouble could it be?” He had been very kind and gentle with the little Miranda, but the manner had not struck Lance as lover-like.
There was a gasp again—
“That person, that woman at the gate, do you remember?”
Therewith a flash came over Lance.