“Oh, my, my!” Felix exclaimed. “I may get up and walk—you are that miraculous a sight!”

She laughed and kissed him again. Sarah wore a pink and gold brocade gown. Her figure had grown fuller without any hint of heaviness or coarseness; she had merely ripened. Her step, her look, the slightest gesture of hand spoke assurance and ease; there would be no doubting who was hostess and mistress of Beulah Land when she went downstairs.

“Where is Rachel?” Felix asked. “She popped in before she dressed but hasn’t since.”

“Downstairs,” Leon said. “I heard her when I was dressing, chattering to the musicians as they got themselves in tune and acting hostess for her mother.”

“What do you have?” Felix asked.

Leon said, “Two fiddlers, the piano, and a clarinet. Mr. Proctor is a clarinetist, you know.”

“Oh, the Davis tutor; I had forgot. I never see the man.”

“And Roman will play his flute,” Sarah said, “where it seems appropriate and he can follow.”

“It promises to be a splendid evening altogether,” Felix said. “I shall have the best of it. I shall hear your pleasure but not be obliged to think of witty things to say to the ladies.”

Sarah said, “Should the noise bother you—”

Felix said, “It won’t, I assure you. I have that kind of ear which hears only what and when it pleases.”

“But if it should—”

“I shall close my door in any case to discourage visitors,” he promised. “I shan’t be bothered if your ball turns into a veritable Bacchanalia with a parade of elephants and a bevy of dancing girls from Egypt.”

“Do you have laudanum?” Nell asked Stella. “In the event Mr. Kendrick is wakeful?”

“Yes, and something better too,” Felix said cheerily. His good hand found a bottle of brandy on the floor beside his bed and raised it in the air. The visitors laughed.

Leon said, “I believe I hear a carriage,” and went to the window. “Yes.”

“Edna said they would be first.” Sarah kissed Felix quickly and went out. Leon beamed a smile at his uncle and followed her. Together they went downstairs.

Nell said, “Shall I bring up a plate when supper is set out?”

“Please not, my dear,” Felix said. “I shall be long asleep.”

She nodded and fussed a little with the top sheet and counterpane which had slipped off his chest. “Well then,” she said. “Good night, my love.” She pressed dry lips lightly to his forehead.

“Enjoy yourself,” he said.

“I go only from a sense of duty,” she allowed.

“You are very good,” he said seriously and raised her hand and kissed it.