‘Ah!’ There was a faintness and oppression in the sound which made Lady Merrifield think the girl ought not to be left, and before long, sickness came on. Nurse Halfpenny had to be called up, and it was one o’clock before there was a quiet, comfortable sleep, which satisfied the aunt and nurse that it was safe to repair to their own beds again. The dreary, undefined self-reproach and vague alarms, intensified by the sullen, reserved temper, and culminating in such a shock, alienating the only persons she cared for, and filling her with terror for the future, could not but have a physical effect, and Dolores was found on the morrow with a bad head-ache, and altogether in a state to be kept in bed, with a fire in her room. Gillian and Mysie were much impressed by the intelligence of their cousin’s illness when they came to their mother’s room on the way to breakfast, and Mysie turned to her sister, saying, ‘There Gill, you see she did care, though she didn’t cry like us. Being ill is more than crying.’ ‘Well,’ said Gillian, ‘it is a good deal more than such things as you and Val cry for, Mysie.’ ‘It was a trial such as you don’t understand, my dears,’ said Lady Merrifield. ‘I don’t, of course, excuse much that she did, but she had been used to see her mother make every exertion to help the man.’ ‘That does make a difference,’ said Gillian, ‘but she shouldn’t have taken her father’s money. And wasn’t it dreadful of Constance to smuggle her letters? I’m quite glad Constance gets part of the punishment.’ ‘Certainly, that might be just, Gillian, but unfortunately the loss falls infinitely more heavily upon Miss Hacket, who cannot afford the loss at all.’ ‘Oh dear!’ cried Mysie. ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Gillian. ‘And, my dear girls, in all honour and honesty, we must make it up to her.’ ‘Can’t we save it out of our allowance?’ said Mysie. ‘Sixpence a month from you, a shilling perhaps from Gill, how long would that take? No, my dear girls, I am going to put you to a heavy trial.’ ‘Oh, mamma, don’t!’ cried Gillian, seeing what she was driving at. ‘Don’t give up the Butterfly’s Ball.’ ‘Oh, don’t!’ implored Mysie, tears starting in her eyes. ‘We never saw a costume ball, and Fly wishes it so.’ ‘And I thought you had promised,’ said Gillian. ‘Cousin Rotherwood assumes that I did; but I did not really accept. I told him I could not tell, for you know your Grandmamma Merrifield talked of coming here, and I cannot put her off. And now I see that it must be given up.’ ‘It need only be calico!’ sighed Gillian, sticking pins in and out of the pincushion. ‘Fancy dresses even in calico are very expensive. Besides, I could not go to a place like Rotherwood without at least two new dresses, and it is not right to put papa to more expense.’ ‘Oh, mamma! couldn’t you? You always do look nicer than any one,’ said Mysie.