"Look here, miss; here is your programme! Why, deary me! you must have had a lot of dancing. It is quite full."
Betty looked at the programme with dazed eyes; then at the camellia. It had lost some of its petals, and these had not fallen on the toilet-cover. Where were they? What was the meaning of this?
"Martha, bring me my hot water, and leave me alone."
Betty was sorely perplexed. There were evidences that her dress had been worn. The pearl necklace was in the case, but not as she had left it--outside. She bathed her head in cold water. She racked her brain.
She could not recall the smallest particular of the ball. She perused the programme. A light colour came into her cheek as she recognised the initials "C. F.," those of Captain Charles Fontanel, of whom of late she had seen a good deal. Other characters expressed nothing to her mind.
"How very strange!" she said; "and I was lying on the bed in the dress I had on yesterday evening. I cannot explain it."
Twenty minutes later, Betty went downstairs and entered the breakfast-room. Lady Lacy was there. She went up to her aunt and kissed her.
"I am so sorry that I overslept myself," she said. "I was like one of the Seven Sleepers."
"My dear, I should not have minded if you had not come down till midday.
After a first ball you must be tired."
"I meant--last night."
"How, last night?"
"I mean when I went to dress."
"Oh, you were punctual enough. When I was ready you were already in the hall."
The bewilderment of the girl grew apace.
"I am sure," said her aunt, "you enjoyed yourself. But you gave the lion"s share of the dances to Captain Fontanel. If this had been at Exeter, it would have caused talk; but here you are known only to a few; however, Lady Belgrove observed it."
"I hope you are not very tired, auntie darling," said Betty, to change slightly the theme that perplexed her.
"Nothing to speak of. I like to go to a ball; it recalls my old dancing days. But I thought you looked white and f.a.gged all the evening. Perhaps it was excitement."
As soon as breakfast was concluded, Betty escaped to her room. A fear was oppressing her. The only explanation of the mystery was that she had been to the dance in her sleep. She was a somnambulist. What had she said and done when unconscious? What a dreadful thing it would have been had she woke up in the middle of a dance! She must have dressed herself, gone to Lady Belgrove"s, danced all night, returned, taken off her dress, put on her afternoon tea-gown, lain down and concluded her sleep--all in one long tract of unconsciousness.
"By the way," said her aunt next day, "I have taken tickets for _Carmen_, at Her Majesty"s. You would like to go?"
"Oh, delighted, aunt. I know some of the music--of course, the Toreador song; but I have never heard the whole opera. It will be delightful."
"And you are not too tired to go?"
"No--ten thousand times, no--I shall love to see it."
"What dress will you go in?"
"I think my black, and put a rose in my hair."
"That will do very well. The black becomes you. I think you could not do better."
Betty was highly delighted. She had been to plays, never to a real opera.
In the evening, dinner was early, unnecessarily early, and Betty knew that it would not take her long to dress, so she went into the little conservatory and seated herself there. The scent of the heliotropes was strong. Betty called them cherry-pie. She had got the libretto, and she looked it over; but as she looked, her eyes closed, and without being aware that she was going to sleep, in a moment she was completely unconscious.
She woke, feeling stiff and cold.
"Goodness!" said she, "I hope I am not late. Why--what is that light?"
The glimmer of dawn shone in at the conservatory windows.
Much astonished, she left it. The hall, the staircase were dark. She groped her way to her room, and switched on the electric light.
Before her lay her black-and-white muslin dress on the bed; on the table were her white twelve-b.u.t.ton gloves folded about her fan. She took them up, and below them, somewhat crumpled, lay the play-bill, scented.
"How very unaccountable this is," she said; and removing the dress, seated herself on the bed and thought.
"Why did they turn out the lights?" she asked herself, then sprang to her feet, switched off the electric current, and saw that actually the morning light was entering the room. She resumed her seat; put her hands to her brow.
"It cannot--it cannot be that this dreadful thing has happened again."
Presently she heard the servants stirring. She hastily undressed and retired between the sheets, but not to sleep. Her mind worked. She was seriously alarmed.
At the usual time Martha arrived with tea.
"Awake, Miss Betty!" she said. "I hope you had a nice evening. I dare say it was beautiful."
"But," began the girl, then checked herself, and said--
"Is my aunt getting up? Is she very tired?"
"Oh, miss, my lady is a wonderful person; she never seems to tire. She is always down at the same time."
Betty dressed, but her mind was in a turmoil. On one thing she was resolved. She must see a doctor. But she would not frighten her aunt, she would keep the matter close from her.
When she came into the breakfast-room, Lady Lacy said--
"I thought Maas"s voice was superb, but I did not so much care for the Carmen. What did you think, dear?"
"Aunt," said Betty, anxious to change the topic, "would you mind my seeing a doctor? I don"t think I am quite well."
"Not well! Why what is the matter with you?"
"I have such dead fits of drowsiness."
"My dearest, is that to be wondered at with this racketing about; b.a.l.l.s and theatres--very other than the quiet life at home? But I will admit that you struck me as looking very pale last night. You shall certainly see Dr. Groves."
When the medical man arrived, Betty intimated that she wished to speak with him alone, and he was shown with her into the morning-room.
"Oh, Dr. Groves," she said nervously, "it is such a strange thing I have to say. I believe I walk in my sleep."