“Who is it?” said Heliet, in a low voice, while a bright red spot burned in each cheek.
“Ademar de Gernet.” Two or three voices told her. The bright spots burned deeper.
“Is it to be?” was the next question.
“Ay, the Lady said so much; and I reckon she shall give thee thy gear.”
“God has been very good to me,” said Heliet, softly, rocking little Rose gently to and fro. “But I never thought He meant to give me that!”
Clarice looked up, and saw a depth of happy love in the lame girl’s eyes, which made her sigh for herself. Then, looking further, she perceived a depth of black hate in those of Felicia de Fay, which made her tremble for Heliet.
It appeared very shortly that the Countess was in a hurry to get the wedding over. Perhaps she was weary of weddings in her household, for she did not seem to be in a good temper about this. She always thought Heliet would have had a vocation, she said, which would have been far better for her, with her lameness, than to go limping into chapel to be wed. She wondered nobody saw the impropriety of it. However, as she had promised De Gernet, she supposed it must be so. She did not know what she herself could have been thinking about to make such a foolish promise. She was not usually so silly as that. However, if it must be, it had better be got over.
So got over it was, on an early morning in August, De Gernet receiving knighthood from the Earl at the close of the ceremony.
Mistress Underdone had petitioned that her lame and only child might not be separated from her, and the Countess—according to her own authority, in a moment of foolishness—had granted the petition. So Heliet was drafted among the Ladies of the Bedchamber, but only as an honorary distinction.
The manner of the Countess continued to strike every one as unusual. Long fits of musing with hands lying idle were becoming common with her, and when she rose from them she would generally shut herself up in her oratory for the remainder of the day. Clarice thought, and Heliet agreed with her, that something was going to happen. Once, too, as Clarice was carrying Rose along the terrace, she was met by the Earl, who stopped and noticed the child, as in his intense and unsatisfied love for little children he always did. Clarice thought he looked even unwontedly sorrowful.