The large hall, lighted by tall lamps, was covered with a thick black carpet into which the feet sank noiselessly, and the walls and ceiling were draped in the same sombre tint; but at intervals of a few feet, columns of white marble, chiselled into curious shapes, gleamed upon the observer from shadowy niches.
On ordinary occasions, there was a solemnity, a coldness, in this sombre vestibule; but to-night a strange electric activity seemed to have been breathed upon the atmosphere.

Women with flushed faces and men with feverishly bright eyes hurried to and fro in an irrepressible, aimless agitation.

A blending of dread and hysterical anticipation was stamped upon every face.

People stopped one another with nervous, unstrung gesture and odd, disjointed sentences.
As the last comer entered, she paused for a moment, uncertain and hesitating; but almost as she did so, a remarkable-looking and massively built man who was standing in the hall, disengaged himself from a group of people, and, coming directly towards her, took her hand.
"Mrs.Witcherley! At last!" he exclaimed, in a full, emotional voice.

"I looked for you among the gathering and for a moment I almost feared--" "That I would fail ?" Her voice was still tinged with agitation; the pupils of her large eyes were distended.
"No, I did not mean that.