But her looks had now attracted very general attention, and occasioned much comment. More than one indiscreet friend or acquaintance had remarked to Mr. Berners:
“Mrs. Berners looks quite ill. I fear the fatigue of this masquerade has been too much for her,” or words to that effect.
“Yes,” Lyon Berners invariably replied, “she is quite indisposed this evening, suffering indeed; and I have begged her to retire, but I cannot induce her to do so.”
“She is too unselfish; she exerts herself too much for the entertainment of her guests,” suggested another.
And so the rumor went around the room that Mrs. Berners was suffering from severe illness. And this explanation of her appearance was very generally received; for the outward and silent manifestations of mental anguish are not unlike those of physical agony.
And so, after another quadrille and another waltz, and the final Virginia reel, the company, in consideration of their hostess, began to break up and depart. Some few intimate friends of the family, who had come from a distance to the ball, were to stay all night at Black Hall. These upon their first arrival had been shown to the chambers they were to occupy, and now they knew where to find them. And so, when the last of the departing guests had taken leave of their hostess, and had gone away, these also bade her good-night and retired.
And Sybil remained alone in the deserted drawing-room.
It is sometimes interesting and curious to consider the relative position of the parties concerned, just before the enactment of some terrible tragedy.
The situation at Black Hall was this: The guests were in their chambers, preparing to retire to bed. The servants were engaged in fastening up the house and putting out the lights, only they refrained from interfering with three rooms, where three members of the family still lingered.
In the first of these was the mistress of the house, who, as I said, remained alone in the deserted drawing-room. Sybil stood as if turned to stone, and fixed to the spot—motionless in form and face, except that her lips moved and a hollow monotone issued from them, more like the moan of a lost soul, than the voice of a living woman.