“Oh, fie! Sir John, you men are all the same, money carries off the palm with young and old alike.”
Harry meantime was enjoying his dance with Mabel, caring very little what the Countess of Polehampton or Sir John Frodsham might say of him.
During that evening more than one could not help remarking the rich colour and the sparkling eyes of the heiress of Stanmore. Never had she looked so lovely; indeed, generally she carried off the palm from her cousin. The dance continued, the amateur musicians exerting themselves to the utmost; and everybody declared that if the present impromptu little party went off so well, that of the next day must be a great success. The Colonel was seated at the end of the room, paying attention to his more elderly guests, and occasionally saying a pleasant word or two to the young ones. Madam Everard kept moving about and acting the part of an attentive hostess. Frequently her nieces assisted her, when not actually engaged in dancing. There was a question to be decided as to what dance should next take place.
“Where is Lucy?” exclaimed Madam Everard, looking round. Lucy had left the room; some minutes passed, and she did not return. Madam Everard became anxious. Mabel was again dancing, or she would have sent her to look for her cousin. Madam Everard hastened from the ball-room; she went up-stairs, and met a servant by the way.
“Miss Everard went up into her room some time ago.”
Madam Everard hastened forward, telling the maid to follow.
The door was slightly open. There was no sound in the room—a lamp burned on the table; Madam Everard’s heart sank with dread. She looked round. Stretched on the floor lay her beloved niece in her gay ball dress, her countenance like marble, and blood flowing from her lips!
“She breathes, she breathes!” she said; and she and the maid lifted her on to the bed.
She had broken a blood-vessel. Madam Everard knew that at a glance: Lucy’s mother had done the same.
“Dr Jessop must be sent for immediately;” but Madam Everard did not wish to give the alarm to the rest of the guests. She would let the visitors depart, and allow those who were to remain in the house to go to their rooms before the sad intelligence was conveyed to them. She did all that could be done, and applied such restoratives as she believed would be effectual.