‘But, Aunt Elizabeth, I have not been deaf.’
‘You have not noticed that you were deaf.’
‘Oh! but look at my hair; it was that wind that blew it about.’
‘You are labouring under a delusion,[6] Julia. There was no wind.’
‘But look – feel how my hair is down.’
‘That has been done by the motion of the carriage. There are many ruts in the road.’ They reached home, and Julia, feeling sick, frightened, and bewildered, retired to bed. Dr. Crate arrived, said that she was hysterical, and ordered something to soothe her nerves. Julia was not convinced. The explanation offered by Miss Flemming did not satisfy her. That she was a victim to hysteria she did not in the least believe. Neither her aunt, nor the coachman, nor Phillips had heard the discharge of a gun. As to the rushing wind, Julia was satisfied that she had experienced it. The lace was ripped, as by a hand, from her dress, and the shawl was twisted about her throat; besides, her hair had not been so slightly arranged that the jolting of the carriage would completely disarrange it. She was vastly perplexed over what she had undergone. She thought and thought, but could get no nearer to a solution of the mystery.
Next day, as she was almost herself again, she rose and went about as usual. In the afternoon the Hon. James Lawlor called and asked after Miss Flemming. The butler replied that his mistress was out making calls, but that Miss Demant was at home, and he believed was on the terrace. Mr. Lawlor at once asked to see her.
He did not find Julia in the parlour or on the terrace, but in a lower garden to which she had descended to feed the goldfish in the pond.
‘Oh! Miss Demant,’ said he, ‘I was so disappointed not to see you at the ball last night.’
‘I was very unwell; I had a fainting fit and could not go.’
‘It threw a damp on our spirits – that is to say, on mine. I had you booked for several dances.’
‘You were able to give them to others.’
‘But that was not the same to me. I did an act of charity and self-denial. I danced instead with the ugly Miss Burgons and with Miss Pounding, and that was like dragging about a sack of potatoes. I believe it would have been a jolly evening, but for that shocking affair of young Hattersley which kept some of the better sort away. I mean those who know the Hattersleys. Of course, for me that did not matter, we were not acquainted. I never even spoke with the fellow. You knew him, I believe? I heard some people say so, and that you had not come because of him. The supper, for a subscription ball,
