"It is gone, now, papa; but I tell you I saw a ghost at the window—one from the dead came and looked at me—his ghost, papa," she moaned, hiding her face on his shoulder.
"Whose ghost was it, Queenie?" asked Georgina, curiously, as she stepped forward in her elegant bridal robe. "Whom did you see?"
"Do not tease her, Georgie—stand back and give her air—see, she is about to faint!" exclaimed her father, a little shortly.
The bride stepped back with a murmur of discontent. She thought it exceedingly rude in her father to snub the prospective Lady Valentine.
"Oh! for mercy's sake, Queenie," exclaimed Mrs. Lyle, rushing forward with a bottle of eau de cologne, "don't give way to hysterical fancies now when it is almost time for the ceremony to begin! You saw nothing at the window but the moonlight; come, come, compose yourself! Your toilet will be totally disarranged!"
She fell to work bathing the limp, nerveless hands and cold brow of the girl, while Sydney and Georgina stood coldly aloof—the bride because she was afraid of ruffling her delicate plumage, and Sydney because she would not have lifted a finger to save Queenie if she had lain dying before her.
In the midst of the tumult the maid rushed in.
"Oh! Mrs. Lyle," she exclaimed, "the company is arriving. Mrs. Preston's carriage is at the door, and Mrs. Alden's and Mrs. Howe's."
"Oh! dear," exclaimed Mrs. Lyle, "was there ever such a contre temps? Not a soul in the drawing-room to receive them! Sydney, you must go down, I cannot leave Queenie in this state."
Sydney curled her lip in a disdainful smile and went.