It was getting on, hour after hour.
“Shall we go home, Jacqueline?” whispered Judith.
“Not yet—not yet!” Jacqueline would answer, with trembling lips. She kept on hoping against hope. By that time everybody in the rooms had seen it all, except Mrs. Sherrard. She supposed she had done her best, coming up and talking to them incessantly; but, Jacqueline having refused a partner when offered one, Mrs. Sherrard naturally supposed she did not dance from preference, and accepted the idea that Dr. Wortley was responsible. It was past midnight before Jacqueline would agree to go. Judith, as stately, if paler and haughtier than ever in her life, went up to Mrs. Sherrard, made her farewells, and walked the whole length of the rooms, holding Jacqueline’s hand. The poor child tried to hold her head up, inspired by Judith’s courage, but it drooped, and she could not raise her eyes from the floor. A slight thrill of remorse seemed to come over those who saw her, at the piteous sight; but it was now too late. Jacqueline only longed to escape.
The instant they were in the carriage and alone, Jacqueline threw her arms around Judith and began to weep and sob desperately. Judith could only hold her to her heart and say: “Never mind, Jacqueline; if all the world should be against you, I would not be—nor Throckmorton.”
But Jacqueline did not cease to sob and weep with a sort of despair that struck a chill to Judith’s heart. She had never seen anybody weep so. When they reached home, Judith got her up-stairs to her room and undressed her, taking off the little chain around her neck that held the pearl pendant Jacqueline only wore on great occasions, uncurling the bright hair she had dressed so carefully, and laying away the simple white dress—Jacqueline’s only ball-dress—that she had admired herself in so much. Jacqueline submitted, still sobbing a continual sob, that showed no signs of abatement. Judith put her in bed, turned out the lamp, and kissing her affectionately went out, thinking Jacqueline would soon cry herself to sleep.
An hour afterward Judith, who had keen hearing, fancied she heard a sound from Jacqueline’s room. She went in softly. In the ghastly light that came through the closed shutters she saw Jacqueline sitting up in the great, white bed, still weeping.
“My darling,” said Judith, taking the girl in her arms, “you will be ill!”
“Ill!” cried Jacqueline; “I am ill now—so ill, I never shall be well again! Judith, I can’t live under this. I am going to die; and I am glad of it.”
“Hush, hush! what nonsense are you talking?”