lights decorated the vast saloon, and the floor was studded with groups
of ladies and gentlemen, all dressed in gorgeous attire. Suddenly Molly
bethought her of the children whom she had accompanied into the dining-
room, and to whose ranks she had appeared to belong,--where were they?
Gone to bed an hour before, at some quiet signal from their mother.
Molly wondered if she might go, too--if she could ever find her way
back to the haven of Mrs Kirkpatrick's bedroom. But she was at some
distance from the door; a long way from Mrs. Kirkpatrick, to whom she
felt herself to belong more than to any one else. Far, too, from Lady
Cuxhaven, and the terrible Lady Cumnor, and her jocose and good-natured
lord. So Molly sate on, turning over pictures which she did not see;
her heart growing heavier and heavier in the desolation of all this
grandeur. Presently a footman entered the room, and after a moment's
looking about him, he went up to Mrs. Kirkpatrick, where she sate at
the piano, the centre of the musical portion of the company, ready to
accompany any singer, and smiling pleasantly as she willingly acceded
to all requests. She came now towards Molly, in her corner, and said to
her,--

'Do you know, darling, your papa has come for you, and brought your
pony for you to ride home; so I shall lose my little bedfellow, for I
suppose you must go.'

Go! was there a question of it in Molly's mind, as she stood up
quivering, sparkling, almost crying out loud. She was brought to her
senses, though, by Mrs. Kirkpatrick's next words,

'You must go and wish Lady Cumnor good-night, you know, my dear, and
thank her ladyship for her kindness to you, She is there, near that
statue, talking to Mr. Courtenay.'