"Has it--has the?" she began to say, raising herself to look about her. But her full senses revived before she said more. The room was quite in darkness, except for the faint red glow of the slumbering fire. It might have been the middle of the night; nay more, days might have passed, for all she knew, since that terrible afternoon. "Perhaps I have been very ill, and am only now beginning to get better," she thought. But no, though her head was dizzy and ached a good deal, she did not feel weak or exhausted. Then she had on her usual dress, the same dress she had worn all day. With a sigh almost of regret Imogen had to decide that nothing very remarkable had happened. She was still in the world of ordinary doings, and she must face what lay before her. A dark figure, aroused by even the half-audible words she had begun to utter, crossed the room to the bedside. "Mamma?" said Imogen. "Yes, darling. I have been watching for you to awake. Is your head better, sweetest?" "I think so," the girl, now fully on the alert, replied. "What time is it? The middle of the night?" "Oh no, dear, the dressing-gong has not sounded yet." "Has it not?" in a tone of disappointment. "I won't come down to dinner; you will tell them about my headache. But you must _go_ down, mamsey," with unconscious selfishness, "and--it would not do to seem to make a fuss." "No dear," very submissively. "But first, Imogen, I have to tell you what I have done. I don't know _what_ you'll say. I have had a telegram from Mrs Hume, begging us so to go to her at once. I fancy she has some party she wants you for; and so, as it was so near our time for leaving, and you not seeming very well, and--" "You have said we would go? Oh, I do hope you did," said Imogen, with feverish eagerness. "Oh, why didn't you wake me?--if only we could go to-night." "Not to-night, dearest; that couldn't be; but to-morrow. I have telegraphed that we will be with her to-morrow." "Oh, thank you! I am _so_ glad," said Imogen. Then after a moment's pause, "Mamma," she went on, "you have heard something, and you see that _I_ have. It has all been a terrible mistake. But do not ask me to speak about it yet. Afterwards, when we are away from here, I will tell you all. I cannot _yet_. Only one thing, you must understand that Major Winchester has not been to blame. So, if you see him to-night, you will be nice to him; promise me you will." "I will do my best," said poor Mrs Wentworth. "For every sake," Imogen went on. She frowned as if thinking deeply. "I am not sure yet that there has not been some trick in it. Mamma, do not say one word you can help to Miss Forsyth or Trixie, and try not to let them think there is anything the matter."