aversion; but old eyes would have seen that she pondered something.
However, after supper she pleaded a headache, and disappeared. To
pass the time of her absence, Lord Uplandtowers went into a little
room adjoining the long gallery, where some elderly ones were
sitting by the fire--for he had a phlegmatic dislike of dancing for
its own sake,--and, lifting the window-curtains, he looked out of
the window into the park and wood, dark now as a cavern. Some of
the guests appeared to be leaving even so soon as this, two lights
showing themselves as turning away from the door and sinking to
nothing in the distance.

His hostess put her head into the room to look for partners for the
ladies, and Lord Uplandtowers came out. Lady Grebe informed him
that Barbara had not returned to the ball-room: she had gone to bed
in sheer necessity.

'She has been so excited over the ball all day,' her mother
continued, 'that I feared she would be worn out early . . . But
sure, Lord Uplandtowers, you won't be leaving yet?'

He said that it was near twelve o'clock, and that some had already
left.

'I protest nobody has gone yet,' said Lady Grebe.

To humour her he stayed till midnight, and then set out. He had
made no progress in his suit; but he had assured himself that
Barbara gave no other guest the preference, and nearly everybody in
the neighbourhood was there.