CHAPTER XXV.CAUGHT.
There’s danger in that dazzling eye,That woos thee with its witching smile;Another when thou art not by,Those beaming looks would fain beguile.—Frances Osgood.
There’s danger in that dazzling eye,That woos thee with its witching smile;Another when thou art not by,Those beaming looks would fain beguile.—Frances Osgood.
There’s danger in that dazzling eye,That woos thee with its witching smile;Another when thou art not by,Those beaming looks would fain beguile.—Frances Osgood.
There’s danger in that dazzling eye,
That woos thee with its witching smile;
Another when thou art not by,
Those beaming looks would fain beguile.—Frances Osgood.
This was the short session of Congress, which would close on the fourth of March. The fashionable season, therefore, was nearly over, and it was ending in true carnival style.
There were morning concerts, theatricals, receptions, etc., all day; and there were evening concerts, theatricals, receptions, dinners, balls and parties all night. And “everybody who was anybody” was expected to “show” at all.
The belle of the season went everywhere; and often appeared at half a dozen different scenes of festivity or revelry in one night.
Her constant escort, Alexander Lyon, had no sinecure. He went with her everywhere; partly because his uncle willed that he should go with her, and he could not well refuse without explaining his reasons for doing so, and he could not explain, without acknowledging his secret marriage with Drusilla; partly because he imagined himself in love with his brilliant cousin; but mostly because he determined that Richard Hammond should not supplant him in his office of escort.
For two days during which he had not appeared at his home, he had been on a “perpetual” round of pleasure with Anna. The first day he attended her to a breakfast given at the Executive Mansion; to amatinèe musicaleat the French minister’s; to an afternoon debate in the Senate Chamber; to a dinner party at General Stott’s; and to thetheatre to see a celebrated comedienne; and, lastly, to a supper at General Lyon’s room; all this in one day and evening; so, of course, he could not get home that night. The next day he went with her, first to a wedding at St. John’s church, and to the wedding-breakfast at the house of the bride’s mother; then to hear part of a very interesting case at the Supreme Court; next to the reception of a cabinet minister; then to an exhibition of paintings; from that to a dinner party at the Brazilian minister’s; and, finally, to the very grandest hall of the carnival, given by the wife of a millionaire, who had taken a furnished house for the season, and reserved herself for this final magnificent affair.
It was considered a great distinction to get an invitation to this ball. Only the “elite” were invited, and all the “elite” were there.
Anna, restricted by her mourning to a certain style of dress was still, as always, the most beautiful and the most admired woman of the assembly. And Alexander was proud of her as his reputed betrothed.
In all the success of the season Anna had never had such a dazzling triumph as upon this evening. She seemed to turn all heads with her bewitching beauty, until at length her own brain seem dizzied with her conquests. She grew capricious and exasperating. Alexander hovered around her; and he would not have left her for a moment that evening if she had not, with a furtive and angry flash of her blazing blue eyes, peremptorily ordered him to leave her. And to complete his mortification and despair, she beckoned Richard Hammond to come to her, and she retained him in her suite for the rest of the evening.
Alexander was half maddened by this conduct of his cousin. His blood boiled when he saw her smiling upon his rival; and when he saw that rival basking in those smiles; and he would have liked to have throttled Richardthen and there; but he knew that it would never do to make a scene in that place; so he stood scowling and muttering curses, and planning vengeance.
General Lyon, who for once had been tempted to come out in the evening for the sake of being present at this great ball, and meeting many of his old friends whom he knew would be there, saw the provoking behavior of the young pair and resolved that as soon as he should have them at home he would favor the coquette and the rival with a good sound reprimanding lecture. But the festivities were kept up all night; and so the old soldier, who broke down at about one o’clock, was forced to retire and leave the beauty and her rival lovers to their own devices.
Not, however, without whispering to each of the delinquents in turn:
“I shall want to see you at my rooms to-morrow at twelve noon.”
It was broad daylight when the ball broke up.
Anna was at length under the necessity of giving Richard his congee, and resigning herself to the charge of Alexander, who, having escorted her to the ball, was of course obliged to take her home.
On reaching her lodgings, Anna went to bed to sleep off her fatigue. And Alexander, who had hardly spoken during the drive home, hurried off to his rooms at the Blank House, to procure what rest he could before the hour at which he was to wait upon his uncle.
At twelve o’clock precisely, the old soldier, having breakfasted, was seated in his private parlor waiting for his fractious young people.
Anna was the first to come in. And her grandfather was just clearing his throat to begin upon her when the door was opened and Mr. Richard Hammond was announced.
“Ah! very well, it is just as easy to speak to you bothat the same time,” said the old gentleman, turning around in his chair and facing the culprits.
And very imposing looked the veteran as he sat there with his majestic person, grave countenance and silver hair and beard.
And the young cousins were certainly awed by the dignity of his aspect as well as abashed by a sense of their own follies.
“Come and stand before me, sir and madam.” (This gentleman of the old school, always on ceremonious occasions, addressed ladies, whether married or single, by the title of “madam,” which in its true meaning is simplyma dame, or my lady, and applies with equal propriety to maids or matrons.)
“Sir and madam, come and stand before me,” he said.
And the young people, with the reverence they had been educated to show to age, approached and stood before the old man.
Their ready obedience mollified him to a certain extent; for when he spoke again it was in a milder manner.
“My daughter and my nephew,” he said, “your conduct lately, and especially your deportment last evening, has shamed and grieved me. It might be said of our ancient house, as it has been said of another noble line, that all the men were brave and all the women pure. Let me not see in you two the first exceptions to that proud rule.”
The cheeks of the young lady and the brow of the young gentleman flushed crimson with mortification; but neither spoke, and the old gentleman continued:
“No brave man ever tries to supplant an accepted suitor. And no pure woman ever encourages the rival of her betrothed.”
The flush deepened on the cheeks of Anna and on the brow of Richard, and both cast down their eyes, but neither opened their lips.
“And,” proceeded the veteran hero, “I should blush for the daughter of my house who should prove a coquette, as I should blush for the son who should prove a coward. My children, I hope I have said enough. Be brave as all the men of our line, and pure as all its women.”
“Richard,” said Anna, with eyes flashing through their tears, “Cousin Richard, you must bid me farewell here, now, and forever.”
He took the hand she extended to him, and holding it within his own, turned to his uncle and said:
“Sir, youhavesaid enough, and so has my cousin. What it costs me to leave her, only heaven knows. But you have made an appeal that cannot be resisted, and I bow before it. Farewell, sir! And Anna, my cousin, good-bye! Good-bye! God bless you.”
And after wringing Anna’s hand, he dropped it, bowed to his uncle, and hastened away to conceal the tears that rushed to his eyes.
Anna threw herself down upon the sofa, buried her head in its pillows, and sobbed convulsively.
The old man, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his silver-haired head bowed upon his bosom, walked slowly up and down the floor. At length, he came to his sobbing daughter, and laying his hand tenderly upon her head, said:
“I am sorry, Anna. I am sorry, my child. I would I could bear all pain in your stead. But, Anna, I cannot bear this pang for you. And you know that faith must be kept, though hearts be grieved—aye, or——”
Before he could finish his sentence, the door was opened, and Mr. Lyon was announced.
On seeing Alexander enter, Anna started up from the sofa, and hurried from the room.
“Good morning, sir. I hope I have not disturbed my cousin?” said Mr. Lyon, bowing, and shaking hands with his uncle.
“Sit down, Alick,” said the old man, without replying to his observation. “I wish to speak to you.”
Alexander seated himself, and looked attentive.
“Alick, I saw how much annoyed you were last night by Richard’s marked attentions to Anna, and her seeming encouragement of them.”
“‘Seeming,’ sir! It was more than seeming; and much more than mere ‘encouragement.’ Sir, she solicited those attentions,” said Alexander, with scarcely suppressed indignation, and entirely forgetting thathecertainly had no right to object to all this.
“Tut, tut, tut, tut, boy, that is very strong language. However, I can overlook it, as the provocation was very great. But, Alick, it was only the mischievous spirit of a spoiled beauty on her part, and the vanity of a coxcomb on his. I have had them both up before me this morning, and spoken some words to them that they will not readily forget. Anna has dismissed Richard once for all. And he has bid us good-bye, and is gone for good.”
Alexander looked up in surprise and pleasure.
“Yes, it is so,” said the general.
“Excuse me, sir, was that the reason why my cousin was so very much overcome, and ran from the room as soon as I came in?” questioned Alexander, his jealous doubts again awakening.
“Um-m, well, you see I had said some pretty severe words to her and made her cry. But it is well she is gone, as I have something to say to you in private.”
“Yes sir?” said Alexander, hesitatingly and with a guilty twinge, for his conscience immediately awakened his fears. What was it his uncle wanted to say to him? Had the old man got an inkling of the cottage at Cedarwood and its inmates? Scarcely likely he thought, but still he felt uneasy until the general said:
“Alexander my boy, it is now nearly five months sincethe lamented death of your dear mother, my esteemed sister-in-law. And I do not for my part, see why your marriage with Anna should be longer deferred. Long engagements are very injudicious indeed; and your engagement has been an exceedingly prolonged one. And I think now that it should terminate in marriage. Come, what do you say?”
Alexander turned hot and cold; attempted to speak and failed.
The old gentleman ascribed all his emotion to excess of love, surprise and joy.
“Yes, my boy, I really mean it,” he said, smiling. “To defer the affair longer would not be so much of a respectful tribute to the memory of your dear mother, as a superstitious observance. Come! find your tongue, man! find your tongue!”
“The question must be referred to my beautiful betrothed sir. It will be for her to decide it,” said Alexander.
“Oh, aye, certainly, to be sure; it will be for her to decide it; but it will be foryouto induce her to decide it in your favor, my lad,” chuckled the old gentleman. “And as you are to take her to see Saviola’s new picture to-day, you will have a fine opportunity of doing so,” he added.
At that moment the door was again opened, and Commodore Staughton was announced.
And as the old naval hero entered the room, Alexander arose and bowed and made his escape.
But Mr. Lyon did not attend his cousin to the picture gallery that afternoon. Anna pleaded excessive fatigue, and with good reason, and kept her room until evening, when she went, attended by Alexander, to a reception at the Executive Mansion, that was the last and greatest of the season.