George Millar, whose table was near, looked round.
"What naughty trick are you about now, Annie?" said he suspiciously.
"I!" cried the young lady, with well affected surprise; "who so quiet and well-behaved in this room as myself! Your suspicions are derogatory to me, and disgraceful to yourself, George."
And she drew herself up in an attitude of offended dignity, crossing her hands in her lap, and looking straight before her.
George went on with his game; and Mr. Alfred Freemantle, having recovered his composure, resumed his station by Miss Millar's side. He enquired how long she intended to keep the poor man in the dark? Miss Millar said he was in the black hole, and should continue there till he asked to get out; for, indeed, his voice had never yet been heard, and she was anxious to settle the question whether he was or was not, dumb.
Presently afterwards another of the party came up, and begged in the name of Mrs. Watson that Miss Millar would favor them with a song.
Annie possessed the rare talent of singing without accompaniment; and without affectation, when requested by the mistress of the house, she immediately complied, and warbled some beautiful old ballads to the great delight of the company.
She did not change her position, but sat with her back to the door, when, in the midst of her second song, a loud crash was heard in the little room where Mr. Grant was confined; this was followed by vociferous and angry exclamations—at which every one started forward with various intonations of surprise, wondering what was the matter. Miss Millar did not cease singing or move her seat, but merely waved her hand to keep back those who pressed on her, and finished her song with perfect self-possession.
When, however, a second part was suddenly taken to her performance by a strange voice in the next room, every one was still more astonished, and insisted on opening the door to discover the minstrel. When this was done, they saw Mr. Grant leaning quietly against one chair, whilst another overthrown beside him revealed the origin of the noise which had at first arrested them; he was in the dark, of course, and seemed as he stood there so sleepy and dull, that they could hardly imagine he was likewise the author of the melodious sounds they had overheard. How he came there, why he was in the dark, and why he remained so, were questions rapidly asked by such as knew him well enough to speak to him—but he could give no explanation—he only knew that he had woke up and found himself on the sofa in the dark, and thought he was in bed, until rolling off convinced him that he was not; that he had fallen on the floor and made a noise he supposed, and that he should be particularly glad to know whether Mrs. Watson was in the constant habit of locking up her guests in the dark.
Mrs. Watson came forward full of apologies and regrets; she really could not imagine how it had happened, or who had shut the door—it must have been so purely accidental; she was excessively shocked, and particularly grieved, and she hoped it would never occur again.