While the young folks had been enjoying themselves in the ballroom, their elders had found the time hang somewhat heavily on their hands. The evening had not been so interesting to them as to their juniors. Lady Darcy was tired with the preparations of the day, and the countess with her journey from town. Both were fain to yawn behind their fans from time to time, and were longing for the moment to come when they could retire to bed. If only those indefatigable children would say good-night and take themselves off! But the echo of the piano still sounded from the room, and seemed to go on and on, in endless repetition.
Everything comes to those who wait, however—even the conclusion of a ball to the weary chaperon. At long past midnight the strains died away, and in the hope of an early release the ladies roused themselves to fresh conversational effort. What they said was unimportant, and could never be remembered; but at one moment, as it seemed, they were smiling and exchanging their little commonplace amenities, two languid, fine ladies whose aim in life might have been to disguise their own feelings and hide the hearts that God had given them; the next the artificial smiles were wiped away, and they were clinging together, two terrified, cowering women, with a mother’s soul in their faces—a mother’s love and fear and dread! A piercing cry had sounded through the stillness, and another, and another, and, while they sat paralysed with fear, footsteps came tearing along the passage, the door was burst open, and a wild, dishevelled-looking figure rushed into the room. A curtain was wound round face and figure, but beneath its folds a long white arm gripped convulsively at the air, and two little feet staggered about in pink silk slippers.
Lady Darcy gave a cry of anguish; but her terror seemed to hold her rooted to the spot, and it was her husband who darted forward and caught the swaying figure in his arms. The heavy wrappings came loose in his grasp, and as they did so an unmistakable smell pervaded the room—the smell of singed and burning clothing. A cloud of blackened rags fluttered to the ground as the last fold of the curtain was unloosed, and among them—most pitiful sight of all—were stray gleams of gold where a severed lock of hair lay on the carpet, its end still turned in glistening curl.
“Rosalind! Rosalind!” gasped the poor mother, clutching the arms of her chair, and looking as if she were about to faint herself, as she gazed upon the pitiful figure of her child. The lower portion of Rosalind’s dress was practically uninjured, but the gauze skirt and all the frills and puffing round the neck hung in tatters, her hair was singed and roughened, and as the air touched her skin she screamed with pain, and held her hands up to her neck and face.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! I am burning! Cover me up! Cover me up! I shall die! Oh, mother, mother! The pain—the pain!”
She reeled as if about to faint, yet if anyone attempted to approach she beat them off with frantic hands, as if in terror of being touched.
One of the ladies ran forward with a shawl, and wrapped it forcibly round the poor scarred shoulders, while the gentlemen hurried out of the room to send for a doctor and make necessary arrangements. One of the number came back almost immediately, with the news that he had failed to discover the cause of the accident. There was no sign of fire upstairs, the ballroom was dark and deserted, the servants engaged in setting the entertaining rooms in order. For the present, at least, the cause of the accident remained a mystery, and the distracted father and mother occupied themselves in trying to pacify their child.
“I’ll carry you upstairs, my darling. We will put something on your skin which will take away the pain. Try to be quiet, and tell us how it happened. What were you doing to set yourself on fire?”
“Peggy! Peggy!” gasped Rosalind faintly. Her strength was failing by this time, and she could hardly speak; but Lady Darcy’s face stiffened into an awful anger at the sound of that name. She turned like a tigress to her husband, her face quivering with anger.
“That girl again! That wicked girl! It is the second time to-night! She has kil............