‘Not gone to bed yet?’ she said.
‘No,’ said Mrs. Blencarrow; ‘after a business of this kind, however tired I may be, I don’t sleep.’
‘I know what you are doing,’ said her friend. ‘You are asking yourself, now that it’s all over, “What’s the good?”’
‘No; I don’t think so,’ she said quickly; then changed her look and said, ‘Perhaps I was.’
‘Oh, I am sure you were! and it is no good except for such pleasure as you get out of it.’
‘Pleasure!’ said Mrs. Blencarrow. ‘But the boys liked it,’ she said.
‘Oh, the boys! They were more happy than words could say. I think you measure everything by the boys.’
‘Not everything,’ she said with a sigh; and, taking up her candle, she followed her friend upstairs.
The house had fallen into perfect quiet. There was not a sound in all the upper part; a drowsy stillness was in the broad staircase, still dimly lighted, and the corridor above; only a distant echo from below, from the regions which were half underground—a muffled sound of laughter and voices—showed that the servants were still carrying on the festivity. Mrs. Blencarrow said good-night at the door of her friend’s room, and went on to her own, which was at the further end of the long gallery. She left her candle upon a small table outside, where it burned on, a strange, lonely little twinkle of light in the darkness, for half the wintry night.
Neither Kitty nor Walter could rest next day until they had eluded the vigilance of their several guardians and escaped to their usual meeting-place, where they poured into each other’s ears the dire experiences of the previous night. Kitty had been badly scolded before, but it had been as nothing in comparison with what she had suffered on the way home and after her return. Mamma had been terrible; she had outdone herself; there had been nothing too dreadful for her to say. And papa had not stood by Kitty—the best that could be said for him was that he had taken no active part in the demolition of all her hopes.