Then came the strawberry ice. With a silent but dreadful apprehension Macfarren watched her, and when something between a shriek and a groan pierced the air, he was the only person in the dining-room who was not surprised. Marian had gulped down half the plateful at once. Clapping her hands to her face, she rocked back and forth in her chair, evidently suffering agony. Several ladies half rose from their chairs; the head-waiter rushed forward; but Mrs. Van Tromp was already on the spot, holding Marian's hands.
"Dear Lady Marian, tell us what it is," she asked, in soothing tones.
"I know not," said Marian, faintly. "I think it must have been that evil stuff called potatoes. As soon as I had swallowed it I felt a giddiness, my head whirled, and I have heard it hath subtle and dangerous qualities."
"It couldn't have been the potatoes, do you think?" said Mrs. Van Tromp. "Perhaps it was the ale."
"Thou art a fool," responded Marian, tartly. "Dost thou think a Howard de Winstanley so lily-livered that one poor beaker of ale—and weak at that—could do this mischief?"
Mrs. Van Tromp was considerably nettled by this speech, but the name Howard de Winstanley had not lost its magic.
"Let us get out of here," said Macfarren, hurriedly; and, Marian rising, he offered her his arm, and, with Mrs. Van Tromp on the other side, they went out of the dining-room as they had entered it, and, as before, were the cynosure of all eyes.
When they reached the corridor, Macfarren realized that he must have a little while to think before taking another step. What to do with his fair protégée was troubling him excessively; and so, to gain at least a few minutes' time, he proposed that they should enter a little alcove at the end of the main hall, where a tiny fire crackled cheerfully. So he led the way, and Marian sank on the luxurious sofa, while Mrs. Van Tromp drew up a chair, and, spreading wide her gorgeous fan of peacocks' feathers, settled herself to hear all about King's Lyndon.
"Now do tell us about your lovely place in Suffolk. I am very fond of those old English places. The last time we were in England we spent a delightful week at Fairlight, Sir Herbert Cheevor's place in Suffolk. It was charming—no Americans except ourselves."
This last was the most charming part of it to Mrs. Van Tromp.