"It's the excitement.

I shall be myself again after a night's rest." "Aye, to be sure.

Some supper, as is all ready, and then to bed," cried Betty.
The prescription was good enough, but so far as the supper was concerned Lavinia could not, to use Betty's words, "make much of a fist of it." She was glad enough to escape the clack of tongues and the fire of questions and crawl to her room.
Slowly the hours crept by, and when the early summer dawn broke Lavinia was still awake watching the faint streaks of pale gold through the little latticed window.
The rest in bed had not brought repose.

Her mind was troubled.

Lancelot Vane's unexpected appearance and the story of his persecution strove for mastery with the recollection of her triumph at the concert and had overpowered it.