From Jest to Earnest Part 28

Mrs. Byram and her daughters were nothing if not fashionable, and in this case the mode served their inclination, and beyond a few formal words they willingly left their awkward guest to his own resources.

He could not understand how true courtesy permitted a hostess to neglect any of her guests, least of all those who from diffidence or any cause seemed most in need of attention. Still, in the present instance, he was glad to be left alone.

The scenes around him had more than the interest of novelty, and there was much that he enjoyed keenly. The music was good, and his quick ear kept as perfect time to it as did Lottie's feet. He thought the square dances were beautiful and perfectly un.o.bjectionable,--a vast improvement on many of the rude and often stupid games that he had seen at the few companies he had attended, and Lottie appeared the embodiment of grace, as she glided through them.

But when a blast-looking fellow, in whose eye lurked all evil pa.s.sions and appet.i.tes, whirled her away in a waltz, he again felt, with indignation, that here was another instance in which fashion--custom--insolently trampled on divine law and womanly modesty. He had seen enough of the world to know that Lottie, with all her faults, was too good to touch the fellow whose embrace she permitted. Could she--could the others-be ignorant of his character, when it was indelibly stamped upon his face?

But Hemstead soon noticed that this man's attentions were everywhere received with marked pleasure, and that Mrs. Byram and her daughters made much of him as 8 favored guest. In anger he saw how sweetly Lottie smiled upon him as they were pa.s.sing near. She caught his dark look, and, interpreting it to mean something like jealousy, became more gracious toward her roue-looking attendant, with the purpose of piquing Hemstead.

A little later Bel came into the hall, leaning upon the arm of a gentleman. Having requested her escort to get her a gla.s.s of water she was left alone a few moments. Hemstead immediately joined her and asked, "Who is that blase-looking man upon whose arm Miss Marsden is leaning?"

"And upon whom she is also smiling so enchantingly? He is the beau of the occasion, and she is the belle."

"Do you know anything about him? I hope his face and manner do him injustice."

"I fear they do not. I imagine he is even worse than he looks."

"How, then, can he be such a favorite?"

She gave him a quick, comical look, which intimated, "You are from the back country," but said, "I fear you will think less of society when I tell you the reasons. I admit that it is very wrong; but so it is. He has three great attractions: he is brilliant; he is fast; he is immensely rich,--therefore society is at his feet."

"O, no; not society, but a certain clique who weigh things in false balances," said Hemstead, quickly. "How strange it is that people are ever mistaking their small circle for the world!"

Bel gave him a look of some surprise, and thought, "I half believe he is looking down upon us with better right than we upon him."

After a moment Hemstead added, "That man there is more than fast.

I should imagine that Harcourt was a little fast, and yet he has good and n.o.ble traits. I could trust him. But treachery is stamped upon that fellow's face, and the leer of a devil gleams from his eye. He is not only fast, he is bad. Does Miss Marsden know his character?"

"She knows what we all do. There are hard stories about him, and, as you say, he does not look saintly; but however wrong it may be, Mr. Hemstead, it is still a fact that society will wink at almost everything when a man is as rich and well connected as he, that is, as long as a man sins in certain conventional ways and keeps his name out of the papers."

Here her escort joined her, and they pa.s.sed on; and Hemstead stood lowering at the man, the pitch of whose character began to stain the beautiful girl who, knowing him somewhat, could willingly and encouragingly remain at his side.

True, he had seen abundant proof that she had a heart, good impulses, and was capable of n.o.ble things, as he had told her; but was she not also giving 'lira equal proof that the world enthralled her heart, and that senseless and soulless fashion, rather than the will of G.o.d, or the instincts of a pure womanly nature, controlled her will?

He had no small vanity in which to wrap himself while he nursed a spiteful resentment at slights to himself. It was a tendency of his nature, and a necessity of his calling, that he should forget himself for the sake of others. Lottie awoke his sympathy, and he pitied while he blamed.

But he desponded as to the future, and feared that she would never fulfil her first beautiful promise. He realized, with a vague sense of pain, how far apart they were, and in what different worlds they dwelt. At one time it had seemed as if they might become friends, and be in accord on the chief questions of life. But now that she was smiling so approvingly upon a man whose very face proclaimed him villain, he saw a separation wider and more inexorable than Hindu caste,--that of character.

And yet with his intense love of beauty it seemed like sacrilege--the profanation of a beautiful temple--that such a girl as Charlotte Marsden should permit the a.s.sociations of that evening. It was true that he could find no greater fault with her in respect to dress, manners, and attendants, than with many others,--not as much as with his own cousin. But for some reason that did not occur to him it was peculiarly a source of regret that Lottie should so fall short of what he believed true and right.

His thoughts gave expression to his face, as in momentary abstraction he paced up and down the hall. Suddenly a voice that had grown strangely familiar in the brief time he had heard it said at his side, "Why, Mr. Hemstead, you look as if at a funeral. What are you thinking of?"

Following an impulse of his open nature, he looked directly into Lottie's face, and replied, "You."

She blushed slightly, but said with a laugh, "That is frank," but added, meaningly, "I am surprised you cannot find anything better to think about."

"I think Mr. Hemstead shows excellent judgment," said Mr. Brently, the young man whose face had seemed the index of all evil. "Where could he find anything better to think about?"

"Mr. Hemstead's compliments and yours are very different affairs.

He means all he says. Mr. Hemstead, permit me to introduce to you Mr. Brently of New York. I wish you could induce him to be a missionary."

The young rake laughed so heartily at this idea that he did not notice that Hemstead's acknowledgment was frigidly slight; but Lottie did.

"How absurdly jealous!" she thought; yet it pleased her that he was.

"I shall never be good enough to eat, and so cannot be persuaded to visit the Cannibal Islands in the role of missionary." Brently was too pleased with his own poor wit, and too indifferent to Hemstead, to note that the student did not even look at him.

"I expect that you will lecture me well for all my folly and wickedness to-morrow," said Lottie, with a laugh.

"You are mistaken, Miss Marsden," Hemstead answered coldly. "I have neither the right nor the wish to 'lecture' you"; and he turned away, while she pa.s.sed on with an unquiet, uncomfortable feeling, quite unlike her usual careless disregard of the opinions of others.

At that moment a gentleman and lady brushed past them on their way to the drawing-rooms, and he heard Lottie whisper, "There are Mr.

and Miss Martell after all. I feared they were not coming."

A moment later he saw a tall and beautiful girl enter the parlors upon the arm of a gentleman who was evidently her father. Mrs.

Byram received them with the utmost deference, and was profuse in her expressions of pleasure that they had not failed to be present.

Having explained their detention, they moved on through the rooms, receiving the cordial greetings of many who knew them, and much attention from all. They were evidently people of distinction, and from the first Hemstead had been favorably impressed with their appearance and bearing.

From the gentleman's erect and vigorous form it would seem that his hair was prematurely gray. His face indicated intellect and high-breeding, while the deep-set and thoughtful eyes, and the firm lines around his mouth, suggested a man of decided opinions.

The daughter was quite as beautiful as Lottie, only her style was entirely different. She was tall and willowy in form, while Lottie was of medium height. Miss Martell was very fair, and her large blue eyes seemed a trifle cold and expressionless as they rested on surrounding faces and scenes. One would hardly suppose that her pulse was quickened by the gayety and excitement, and it might even be suspected that she was not in sympathy with either the people or their spirit.

And yet all this would only be apparent to a close observer, for to the majority she was the embodiment of grace and courtesy, and as the Lanciers were called soon after her arrival, she permitted Harcourt to lead her out as his partner. They took their stations near the door where Hemstead was standing at the moment. Lottie and Mr. Brently stood at the head of the parlor; and Hemstead thought he had never seen two women more unlike, and yet so beautiful.

While he in his isolation and abstraction was observing them and others in much the same spirit with which he was accustomed to haunt art galleries, Harcourt, seeing him so near, unexpectedly introduced him to Miss Martell, saying good-naturedly: "You have one topic of mutual interest to talk about, and a rather odd one for a clergyman and a young lady, and that is--horses. Miss Martell is one of the best horsewomen of this region, and you, Mr. Hemstead, managed a span that were beyond me,--saved my neck at the same time, in all probability."

The young lady at first was simply polite, and greeted him as she naturally would a stranger casually introduced. But from something either in Harcourt's words, or in Hemstead's appearance as she gave him closer scrutiny, her eye kindled into interest, and she was about to speak to him, when the music called her into the graceful maze of the dance. Hemstead was as much surprised as if a portrait on the wall had stepped down and made his acquaintance, and in his embarra.s.sment and confusion was glad that the lady was summoned away, and he given time to recover himself.

Lottie had noted the introduction, and from her distance it had seemed that Miss Martell had treated him slightingly, and that she had not spoken, but had merely recognized him by a slight inclination; so, acting upon one of her generous impulses, the moment the first form was over and there was a brief respite, she went to where he stood near Miss Martell, and said kindly, but a little patronizingly, "I'm sorry you do not dance, Mr. Hemstead. You must be having a stupid time."

He recognized her kindly spirit, and said, with a smile, "A quiet time, but not a stupid one. As you can understand, this scene is a quite novel one to me,--a glimpse into a new and different world."

"And one that you do not approve of, I fear."

"It has its lights and shadows."

Lottie now turned to speak to Miss Martell, and evil-eyed Brently, her partner, had also been standing near, waiting till Harcourt should cease to occupy her attention so closely.

The young lady was polite, but not cordial, to Lottie; she did not vouchsafe a glance to Brently. But he was not easily abashed.

"Miss Martell," he said suavely, "will you honor me for the next waltz?"

"You must excuse me, sir," she said coldly.

"Well, then, some time during the evening, at your own pleasure,"

he urged.

"You must excuse me, sir," she repeated still more frigidly, scarcely glancing at him.