Alike the joyous dance, the light mirth, and the splendid entertainment
passed unheeded by Virginia, as she sat silently abstracted, and
returned indifferent answers to the questions which were asked her. And
Bernard, the gay and fascinating Bernard, wandered through the crowd,
like a troubled spectre, and ever and anon muttered to himself, “I
wonder what he could have meant by that hideous groan?”
CHAPTER XIX.
“His heart has not half uttered itself yet,
And much remains to do as well as they.
The heart is sometime ere it finds its focus,
And when it does with the whole light of nature
Strained through it to a hair's breadth, it but burns
The things beneath it which it lights to death.”
_Festus._
And now the ball is over. Mothers wait impatiently for their fair
daughters, who are having those many last words so delightful to them,
and so provoking to those who await their departure. Carriages again
drive to the door, and receive their laughing, bright-eyed burdens, and
then roll away through the green lawn, while the lamps throw their
broad, dark shadows on the grass. Gay young cavaliers, who have come
from a distance to the ball, exchange their slippers for their heavy
riding-boots and spurs, and mount their pawing and impatient steeds.
Sober-sided old statesmen walk away arm-in-arm, and discuss earnestly
the business of the morrow. The gamesters and dicers depart, some with
cheerful smiles, chuckling over their gains, and others with empty
pockets, complaining how early the party had broken up, and proposing a
renewal of the game the next night at the Blue Chamber at the Garter
Inn. Old Presley has evidently, to use his own phrase, “got his load,”
and waddling away to his quarters, he winks his eye mischievously at the
lamps, which, under the multiplying power of his optics, have become
more in number than the stars. Thus the guests all pass away, and the
lights which flit for a few moments from casement to casement in the
palace, are one by one extinguished, and all is dark, save where one
faint candle gleams through an upper window and betrays the watchfulness
of the old chaplain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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