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?”