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Julia was particularly anxious to be present at the county ball, for she had been already booked by Mr. Lawlor for several dances, and she was quite resolved to make an attempt to bring him to a declaration.

On the evening of the ball Miss Flemming and Julia entered the carriage. The aunt had given way, as was her wont, but under protest.

For about ten minutes neither spoke, and then Miss Flemming said, ‘Well, you know my feelings about this dance. I do not approve. I distinctly disapprove. I do not consider your going to the ball in good taste, or, as you would put it, in good form. Poor young Hattersley – ‘

‘Oh, dear aunt, do let us put young Hattersley aside. He was buried with the regular forms, I suppose?’

‘Yes, Julia.’

‘Then the rector accepted the verdict of the jury at the inquest. Why should not we? A man who is unsound in his mind is not responsible for his actions.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Much less, then, I who live ten miles away.’

‘I do not say that you are responsible for his death, but for the condition of mind that led him to do the dreadful deed. Really, Julia, you are one of those into whose head or heart only by a surgical operation could the thought be introduced that you could be in the wrong. A hypodermic syringe would be too weak an instrument to effect such a radical change in you. Everyone else may be in the wrong, you – never. As for me, I cannot get young Hattersley out of my head.’

‘And I,’ retorted Julia with asperity, for her aunt’s words had stung her – ‘I, for my part, do not give him a thought.’

She had hardly spoken the words before a chill wind began to pass round her. She drew the Barège shawl that was over her bare shoulders closer about her, and said – ‘Auntie! is the glass down on your side?’

‘No, Julia; why do you ask?’

‘There is such a draught.’

‘Draught! – I do not feel one; perhaps the window on your side hitches.’

‘Indeed, that is all right. It is blowing harder and is deadly cold. Can one of the front panes be broken?’

‘No. Rogers would have told me had that been the case. Besides, I can see that they are sound.’

The wind of which Julia complained swirled and whistled about her. It increased in force; it plucked at her shawl and slewed it about her throat; it tore at the lace on her dress. It snatched at her hair, it wrenched it away from the pins, the combs that held it in place; one long tress was lashed across the face of Miss Flemming. Then the hair, completely released, eddied up above the girl’s head, and next moment was carried as a drift before her, blinding her. Then – a sudden explosion, as though a gun had been fired into her ear; and with a scream of terror she sank back among the cushions. Miss Flemming, in great alarm, pulled the checkstring, and the carriage stopped. The footman descended from the box and came to the side. The old lady drew down the window and said: ‘Oh! Phillips, bring the lamp. Something has happened to Miss Demant.’