“And did the prophecy come true about your father?” asked Mr. Vance.
“Too true, sir; my father died while held as a prisoner of war, in Boston Harbor. And every woman at the table was left a widow. There is only too much truth in science of mesmeric phenomena. The world is a wonderful place.”
“Wonderful!” declared his hearers.
“I am thinking of that poor, pretty creature lying ill in that gloomy hospital without a friend. Men are selfish! I tell you what, folks, tomorrow after lunch we’ll make a Christmas visit to the patients, and carry them fruit and flowers. As for your beautiful patient, Dr. Briggs, she shall not be friendless any longer, she shall come to us at Vance Hall.”
“Molly!” broke simultaneously from Aubrey and Charlie.
“Oh, I mean it. There is plenty of room in this great house, and here she shall remain until she is restored to health.”
Expostulation was in vain. The petted heiress was determined, and when Mr. Vance was appealed to he laughed and said, as he patted her hand:
“The queen must have her own.”
At length the costumer’s box was opened amidst jest, song and laughter. The characters were distributed by the wilful Molly. Thus attired, to the music of Tannhauser’s march, played by one of the girls on the piano, the gay crowd marched and counter-marched about the spacious room.
In the early morning hours, Aubrey Livingston slept and dreamed of Dianthe Lusk, and these words haunted his sleep and lingered with him when he woke: