"Heaven save us! who comes here? It must be a mermaid from the 'lake
that burneth with fire and brimstone for ever and ever.' It's a she,
anyhow, and belongs to your department, thanks be to goodness!"
whispered Joseph Joy, to his companion in duty.
"This way, ma'am, if you please. Delia, pass this lady on to the ladies'
dressing-room," said unconscious Miss Tabby, courtesying and pointing.
And Sybil passed on, smiling to herself to perceive that not even her
old family domestics had recognized her face or form. So, keeping up her
stratagem of being one of the masked guests of the ball, she entered the
large chamber that had been chosen for the ladies' dressing-room and
fitted up with a dozen small dressing-tables and mirrors. Her entrance
created a sensation even among that fantastic crowd, each individual of
which was a wonder in him or herself.
"Oh! look there!" simultaneously whispered twenty masks to forty others,
as they caught sight of her.
"What a marvellous dress! What a splendid creature!"
"What a dazzling costume!"
"She throws us all in the shade."
These were a few of the impulsive ejaculations of admiration that were
passed from one to another, as Sybil flashed through the throng and
stopped before a dressing-table, where she made a pretence of putting a
few finishing touches to her dress.
Then, certain of not having been recognized, and wishing to escape such
close scrutiny in such confined quarters, she joined a group of ladies
who, having completed their own toilets, were just then passing out of
the chamber door into the upper hall, where they were met by their
gentleman escorts.
There was no one to meet Sybil; a circumstance that was not of much
importance, since there were one or two other ladies of the same party,
who, having no escort of their own, had to follow in the wake of others.
Nor would Sybil have minded this at all, had she not looked over the
balustrades and seen issuing from the little passage leading from Mrs.
Blondelle's room, two figures--a gentleman and a lady. The gentleman she
instantly recognized as her husband, by his dress as "Harold, the last
of the Saxon Kings." The lady she felt certain must be Rosa Blondelle,
as she wore the dress of "Edith the Fair," the favorite of the King.
For an instant Sybil reeled under this shock; and then she recovered
herself, re-gathered all her strength, and sternly crushing down all
this weakness, passed on as a guest among her guests to the door of the
drawing-room.
There they were received by a very venerable mask with a long and
flowing white beard, and dressed in a gold 'broidered black velvet
tunic, white hose, white gauntlets, and red buskins, and holding a long
brazen wand. This was no other than "Father Abe," the oldest man on the
manor, personating my "Lord Polonius," that prince of gentlemen ushers
and gold sticks in waiting.