Though it was past noon the lady had not long got out of
bed, and her dress was careless, her hair straggling, her complexion
sallow and the dark half circles beneath her eyes were significant of
nerve exhaustion. She had in fact the night before sat up late gaming,
dancing, eating, drinking--especially drinking--with a party of friends.
The time was to come when she and Lavinia would be closely associated,
but at that moment it was the last thing that entered into the heads of
either.
Mindful of her appointment Lavinia set out early. She had taken great
pains over her toilet and she looked very attractive. She had no need of
paint and powder. Excitement had brought a flush to her cheek. The
fluttering of her heart, the impatience at the lagging time were new
sensations. She had experienced nothing like this disturbing emotion
when she set out on a much more hazardous enterprise to meet Archibald
Dorrimore. The difference puzzled her but she did not trouble to seek
the reason. It did not occur to her that she was really and truly in
love with Lancelot Vane.
She had plenty of time to reach the trysting place, but to walk slowly
was impossible. Her nerves were in too much of a quiver. It hardly
wanted a half hour of seven o'clock when she entered upon the path,
leading from St. James's Palace to the pond.
Vane was not less desirous of being punctual than Lavinia, and he had
indeed arrived at Rosamond's Pond some five minutes before her.
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