She felt in the midst of all this homage and devotion as if she had been lifted up to Heaven, and her heart was full of gratitude.

If he be here (and he _must_ be here somewhere, hiding in the crowd, no doubt, in order not to excite attention) then he will be able to see from his hiding-place how pale the face of his old love is from sorrow--and yet how radiant because of the honour now shown to her.
But Szilard did not see her face at that moment.

He was far away, never dreaming that anybody still thought of him.

A surprise of quite another sort awaited Henrietta.
After she had twice walked round the room--there was a pause just then between two dances--she perceived sitting on a corner seat the old lady already alluded to, whose head and hands were always shaking so, and hastened up to her as to an old acquaintance.
The old pastor's wife, perceiving Henrietta, rose at first from her seat in order to meet her half way, but the next moment she fell back horror-stricken, at the same time stretching out both hands in front of her with widely-outspread fingers as if to ward her off.

Henrietta, unable to explain this odd gesture, remained rooted to the spot with astonishment.
The old lady, still continuing to stretch out her trembling hands, now advanced towards her with tottering footsteps indeed, yet with flaming eyes.