[CHAPTER XXIX.]
“But yet I say, If imputation and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of truth, Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.”—Shakspeare.
From that evening, to the day destined for the ball, nothing material happened. On the morning of that day, as Amanda was sitting in the drawing-room with the ladies, Lord Mortimer entered. Lady Euphrasia could talk of nothing else but the approaching entertainment, which, she said, was expected to be the most brilliant thing that had been given that winter.
“I hope your ladyship,” said Amanda, who had not yet declared her intention of staying at home, “will be able to-morrow to give me a good description of it.” “Why, I suppose,” cried Lady Euphrasia, “you do not intend going without being able to see and hear yourself?” “Certainly,” replied Amanda, “I should not, but I do not intend going.” “Not going to the ball to-night?” exclaimed Lady Euphrasia. “Bless me child,” said Lady Greystock, “what whim has entered your head to prevent your going?” “Dear Lady Greystock,” said Lady Euphrasia, in a tone of unusual good-humor, internally delighted at Amanda’s resolution, “don’t tease Miss Fitzalan with questions.” “And you really do not go?” exclaimed Lord Mortimer, in an accent expressive of surprise and disappointment. “I really do not, my lord.” “I declare,” said the marchioness, even more delighted than her daughter at Amanda’s resolution, as it favored a scheme she had long been projecting, “I wish Euphrasia was as indifferent about amusement as Miss Fitzalan: here she has been complaining of indisposition the whole morning, yet I cannot prevail on her to give up the ball.”
Lady Euphrasia, who never felt in better health and spirits, would have contradicted the marchioness, had not an expressive glance assured her there was an important motive for this assertion.
“May we not hope, Miss Fitzalan,” said Lord Mortimer, “that a resolution so suddenly adopted as yours may be as suddenly changed?” “No, indeed, my lord, nor is it so suddenly formed as you seem to suppose.”
Lord Mortimer shuddered as he endeavored to account for it in his own mind; his agony became almost insupportable; he arose and walked to the window where she sat.
“Amanda,” said he, in a low voice, “I fear you forget your engagement to me.”