I felt as if I were resisting a rushing, cold dark current.
Lord Lathkill was already dancing with Mrs. Hale, skating delicately along, with a certain smile of obstinacy, secrecy, and excitement kindled on his face. Carlotta went up quietly to the Colonel, and put her hand on his broad shoulder. He let himself be moved into the dance, but he had no heart in it.
There came a heavy crash, out of the distance. The Colonel stopped as if shot: in another moment he would go down on his knees. And his face was terrible. It was obvious he really felt another presence, other than ours, blotting us out. The room seemed dree and cold. It was heavy work, bearing up.
The Colonel's lips were moving, but no sound came forth. Then, absolutely oblivious of us, he went out of the room.
The Victrola had run down. Lord Lathkill went to wind it up again, saying:
"I suppose mother knocked over a piece of furniture."
But we were all of us depressed, in abject depression.
"Isn't it awful!" Carlotta said to me, looking up beseechingly.
"Abominable!" said I.
"What do you think there is in it?"