The room went around with her in a dizzy waltz, as the notion

crossed her brain.

"The sight and smell of all these sweets make me sick, Aunt Mary,"

she said, rising from the table. "My head aches awfully! May I go to

my room and lie down?"

"Try some of this nice lemon-ice, my love!" prescribed the plump

matron. "The acid will set you all straight. No? You don't think you

are going to have a chill, do you? Father!" nudging her husband who

was burying his spoon in a Charlotte Russe, "this dear child doesn't

want any dessert. Won't you pilot her through the crowd?"

"Only to the door, uncle! Then come back to your dinner!" Rosa made

answer to his disconcerted stare. "I can find my way to my chamber

without help."

She could have done it, had she been in possession of her accustomed

faculties. But between the harrowing suspicion that engrossed her

mind and the nervous moisture that gathered in her eyes with each

step, she mounted a story too high, and did not perceive her blunder

until, happening to think that her apartment must lie somewhere in

the region she had gained, she consulted the numbers upon the

adjacent doors, and saw that she had wandered a hundred rooms out of

her way, She stopped short to consider which of the corridors,

stretching in gas-lit vistas on either hand, would conduct her

soonest to the desired haven, when a gentleman emerging from a

chamber close by stepped directly upon her train.




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