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."
"It was no fault of hers," said Rachel, sadly.
"I wish I could feel it so."
"That was a mere chance. The rest was my own doing."
"Aided and abetted by more than one looker-on."
"No. It is I who am accountable," she said, repeating Mr. Grey's words.
"You accept the whole?"
It was his usual, cool, dry tone; but as she replied, "I must," she
involuntarily looked up, with a glance of entreaty to be spared, and
she met those dark, grey, heavy-lidded eyes fixed on her with so much
concern as almost to unnerve her.
"You cannot," he answered; "every bystander must rue the apathy that let
you be so cruelly deceived, for want of exertion on their part."