“Dinner parties are one of the most barbarous institutions of past stupidity,” said Rachel, and Grace was reassured.  She hovered over Rachel while Rachel hovered over the sick child, and between her own exertions and those of two maids, had put her sister into an evening dress by the time the first carriage arrived.  She then rushed to her own room, made her own toilette, and returned to find Rachel in conference with Mrs. Kelland, who had come home at last, and was to sit with her niece during the dinner.  Perhaps it was as well for all parties that this first interview was cut very short, but Rachel’s burning cheeks did not promise much for the impression of ease and indifference she was to make, as Grace’s whispered reminders of “the mother’s” distress dragged her down stairs among the all too curious glances of the assembled party.

All had been bustle.  Not one moment for recollection had yet been Rachel’s.  Mr. Grey’s words, “Accountable for all,” throbbed in her ears and echoed in her brain—­the purple bruises, the red stripes, verging upon sores, were before her eyes, and the lights, the flowers, the people and their greetings, were like a dizzy mist.  The space before dinner was happily but brief, and then, as last lady, she came in as a supernumerary on the other arm of Grace’s cavalier, and taking the only vacant chair, found herself between a squire and Captain Keith, who had duly been bestowed on Emily Grey.

Here there was a moment’s interval of quiet, for the squire was slightly deaf, and, moreover, regarded her as a little pert girl, not to be encouraged, while Captain Keith was resigned to the implied homage of the adorer of his cross; so that, though the buzz of talk and the clatter of knives and forks roared louder than it had ever seemed to do since she had been a child, listening from the outside, the immediate sense of hurry and confusion, and the impossibility of seeing or hearing anything plainly, began to diminish.  She could not think, but she began to wonder whether any one knew what had happened; and, above all, she perfectly dreaded the quiet sting of her neighbour’s word and eye, in this consummation of his victory.  If he glanced at her, she knew she could not bear it; and if he never spoke to her at all, it would be marked reprehension, which would be far better than sarcasm.  He was evidently conscious of her presence; for when, in her insatiable thirst, she had drained her own supply of water, she found the little bottle quietly exchanged for that before him.  It was far on in the dinner before Emily’s attention was claimed by the gentleman on her other hand, and then there was a space of silence before Captain Keith almost made Rachel start, by saying—­

“This has come about far more painfully than could have been expected.”

“I thought you would have triumphed,” she said.

“No, indeed.  I feel accountable for the introduction that my sister brought upon you.”