He threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep, but sleep was impossible. He only thought the more hotly and wildly. The hours stretched on and on interminably before he heard the bell ring, and knew that the carriage had come. Rising hastily, he adjusted his cassock and his tumbled hair, and went down. "Perhaps I may find peace at the mass," he sighed with a great wistfulness. The fresh, cool air of night was grateful, and as he was driven along the quiet streets, a new hopefulness came to him. He had supposed that he was to be taken to Mrs. Wilson's, and when the carriage stopped was surprised to find himself before a large building which he did not recognize. "But I was to meet Mrs. Wilson," he said doubtfully to the footman who opened the carriage door. "Mrs. Wilson is here, sir," was the answer. "She said to carry you here. James is inside to tell you what to do." A footman was indeed within, waiting for him. "Mrs. Wilson says will you please come to her, sir," the man said, and led the way upstairs. The sound of gay music, growing louder as he advanced, filled Wynne's ears. He began to feel disquieted, and once half halted. "Are you sure there is no mistake?" he asked. "Oh, no mistake at all, sir," his guide answered. "Mrs. Wilson has arranged everything. Leave your hat and cloak here, sir, if you please." Maurice mechanically did as requested, but as he threw off his outer garment the opening of a door let in a burst of music which seemed so close at hand that he was startled. He was in what was evidently a coat-room, the attendant of which regarded him with open curiosity; and he realized suddenly that he must be near a ball-room. "Where am I?" he demanded. "It's the ball, sir, that they has to end the season before Lent. It's Lent to-morrow, sir, as I thought you'd know." Maurice stared at him in amazement and anger. "There is a mistake," he said. "Give me my cloak." "Indeed, sir," the man said, holding back the garment he had taken, "Mrs. Wilson said, sir, that I was to say that she particular wanted you to come fetch her in the ball-room, sir; and I was to bring you without fail." "You may send her word that I am here." "Please, sir," the man returned, in a voice which struck Maurice as absurdly pleading, "she was very particular, and it's no hurt to go in, sir. She'll blame me, sir." Maurice looked at him, and laughed at the solemnity of the man's homely face. A spirit of recklessness leaped up within him. He said to himself that at least Mrs. Wilson should not think that he dared not come. "Very well," he said. "Show me the way." "Thank you, sir," the servant said, as if he had received a great favor. "It's not easy to bear blame that don't belong to you."