“It is nothing; I shall be better directly,” she whispered. “A sudden spasm—faintness; but it is going off fast;” and all the while she gazed in her companion’s face with a terrified aspect, as if trying to read therein something that was certainly not visible.
“Suppose I leave you five minutes with the attendant, and get you an ice or a cup of coffee?” said Charley.
“No, no!” exclaimed Laura; “do not go—”
But her words were too late: he had passed through the door, staying for a moment to read the note placed in his hands.
“Nothing last night. To-night Her Majesty’s Theatre. Stalls, Numbers. 24, 5, and 6. Mr M.B. and the ladies. Tickets procured at Andrews’s in Bond-street.”
A complete work of supererogation; for the next moment a voice speaking loudly made Charley shrink back, and press his crush-hat down over his eyes.
“Bai Jove, no! Capital time, I’m sure,” And the next moment Ella Bedford’s white-muslin skirt had swept against Charley as he stood stern and motionless as a statue.
Quite five minutes had elapsed after Ella had disappeared before Charley moved. His teeth had been set, and a feeling of rage, bitterness, and hatred combined, had surged up in his breast. Had he liked, he could have stretched forth his hand and touched her; but he did not stir. But he was himself again as he felt a trembling hand laid upon his arm, and a voice that he hardly knew said softly: “Had you forgotten me?”
“No,” said Charley earnestly, as, turning, he saw Laura at his elbow, very paler and with a strange shiver passing from time to time through her frame.
“Are you unwell?” he said kindly, as he drew her hand through his arm.