Margaret let down my train for me and I went in, up the long drawing-room to where my grandmother sat in her easy-chair by the fire and Richard Dawson stood on the hearthrug with his back to it.
As I came up the room I felt again the swimming of my head and things swayed about me for an instant.

Then I recovered myself.
Between the painted panels of the drawing-room at Aghadoe there are long mirrors, in the taste of the time which could imagine nothing so decorative as a mirror.

In every one of them I saw myself repeated, a slight, white figure scintillating with gems.
I had thrown back my veil and I saw the proud delight in my lover's face.

He advanced a step or two to meet me and I heard my grandmother say-- "What a colour you have, child, and how bright your eyes are!" He took up my hands and lifted them to his lips.

Then he cried out, and I heard his voice as though it was at a great distance.
"She is not well, Lady St.Leger," he said, and there was a sharp note of anxiety in his tone.