I stared at her, as did also Catherine and Mary, almost as if they
suspected she had gone demented. "Madam," I stammered, scarce
thinking I had understood her rightly.
"Why are you not dressed for the ball?" she repeated.
"Madam," I said, "pardon me, but you are well acquainted with the
fact that I am not a welcome guest at the governor's ball."
"And wherefore?" cried she imperiously.
"Wherefore, madam?"
Mary and Catherine both looked palely at their grandmother, not
knowing what had come to her.
"Madam," I said, "do you forget?"
"I forget not that you are the eldest son and heir of one of the
best families in England, and as good a gentleman as the best of
them," she cried out. "That I do not forget, and I would have you go
to the ball with my granddaughters. Put on thy plum-coloured velvet
suit, Harry, and order thy horse saddled."
For the first time I seemed to understand that Madam Judith
Cavendish had, in spite of her wonderful powers of body and mind,
somewhat of the childishness of age, for as she looked at me the
tears were in her stern eyes and a flush was on the ivory white of
her face, and her tone had that querulousness in it which we
associate with childhood which cannot have its own will.
"Madam," I said, gently, "you know that it is not possible for me
to do as you wish, and also that my days of gayeties are past,
though not to my regret, and that I am looking forward to an evening
with my books, which, when a man gets beyond his youth, yield him
often more pleasure than the society of his kind."
"But, Harry," she said piteously, and still like a child, "you are
young, and I would not have--" Then imperiously again: "Get into
thy plum-coloured velvet suit, Master Wingfield, and accompany my
granddaughters."
But then I affected not to hear her, under pretence of seeing that
the sedan chairs were ready, and hallooed to the slaves with such
zeal that Madam Cavendish's voice was drowned, though with no
seeming rudeness, and Mary and Catherine came forth in their
rustling spreads of blue and green, and the black bearers stood
grinning whitely out of the darkness, for the moon was not up yet,
and I aided them both into the chairs, and they were off. I stood a
few moments watching the retreating flare of flambeaux, for runners
carrying them were necessary on those rough roads when dark, and the
breath of the dewy spring night fanned my face like a wing of peace,
and I regretted nothing very much which had happened in this world,
so that I could come between that beloved girl and the troubles
starting up like poisonous weeds on her path.