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.