Meantime the whole hall was in a stir; most people rose and remained standing, for a change; some walked about, all talked and laughed. The crimson compartment presented a peculiarly animated scene. The long cloud of gentlemen, breaking into fragments, mixed with the rainbow line of ladies; two or three officer-like men approached the King and conversed with him. The Queen, leaving her chair, glided along the rank of young ladies, who all stood up as she passed; and to each in turn I saw her vouchsafe some token of kindness—a gracious word, look or smile. To the two pretty English girls, Lady Sara and Ginevra Fanshawe, she addressed several sentences; as she left them, both, and especially the latter, seemed to glow all over with gratification. They were afterwards accosted by several ladies, and a little circle of gentlemen gathered round them; amongst these—the nearest to Ginevra—stood the Count de Hamal. “This room is stiflingly hot,” said Dr. Bretton, rising with sudden impatience. “Lucy—mother—will you come a moment to the fresh air?” “Go with him, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bretton. “I would rather keep my seat.” Willingly would I have kept mine also, but Graham’s desire must take precedence of my own; I accompanied him. We found the night-air keen; or at least I did: he did not seem to feel it; but it was very still, and the star-sown sky spread cloudless. I was wrapped in a fur shawl. We took some turns on the pavement; in passing under a lamp, Graham encountered my eye. “You look pensive, Lucy: is it on my account?” “I was only fearing that you were grieved.” “Not at all: so be of good cheer—as I am. Whenever I die, Lucy, my persuasion is that it will not be of heart-complaint. I may be stung, I may seem to droop for a time, but no pain or malady of sentiment has yet gone through my whole system. You have always seen me cheerful at home?” “Generally.” “I am glad she laughed at my mother. I would not give the old lady for a dozen beauties. That sneer did me all the good in the world. Thank you, Miss Fanshawe!” And he lifted his hat from his waved locks, and made a mock reverence. “Yes,” he said, “I thank her. She has made me feel that nine parts in ten of my heart have always been sound as a bell, and the tenth bled from a mere puncture: a lancet-prick that will heal in a trice.” “You are angry just now, heated and indignant; you will think and feel differently to-morrow.” “_I_ heated and indignant! You don’t know me. On the contrary, the heat is gone: I am as cool as the night—which, by the way, may be too cool for you. We will go back.” “Dr. John, this is a sudden change.” “Not it: or if it be, there are good reasons for it—two good reasons: I have told you one. But now let us re-enter.”