CHAPTER VII.
LOVE is ALL!
Thursday, Jan. 30.
I've been trying to read, but I can't. Pale heroines in books are sodull!
Last night came the Van Dams' dance and my triumph--and a greatertriumph still; for to-day I have a wonderful, beautiful chapter to addto my own book, to the story of the only woman whose life is worthwhile.
I see the vista of my future, and--ah, little book, my eyes aredazzled! A rich woman would be a beggar, a clever woman a fool, anempress would leave her throne to exchange with me. Nothing, nothing isimpossible to the most beautiful woman that ever lived, whose life iscrowned by love. Love is all; all! In a palace without Ned I'd weepmyself blind; with him a desert would be Eden. Love is all!
That blessed dance!
The General invited me ten days ago, the afternoon when--when JohnBurke-- poor John!---scolded me about the photographs.
"Just a 'small and early,'" she said, broaching her errand as soon asshe had fairly driven John off the field--there was just the faintestsuggestion of relief in her tone--"Peggy's mother's giving it--Mrs.Henry Van Dam."
She looked at Aunt with an assurance as calm as if there were nointerdict upon social experiments.
"Impossible!" gasped Aunt, glancing despairingly in the direction inwhich her ally had disappeared. "Why, Nelly doesn't leave the house;I've stopped her attendance even at Barnard."
"And quite right; but a private house isn't a big school, nor yet theOpera. Of course you say yes, don't you, Helen?"
"Yes, yes! A dance! Oh, I'm going to a dance! Play for me, Milly; playfor me!"
Humming a bar of a waltz, I caught Aunt Frank in my arms, and whirledher about the room until she begged for mercy.
"Oh, you dear people, I'm so happy!" I cried as I stopped, my cheeksglowing, and, falling all about me, a flood of glistening hair; whilethe General, whose creed is to wonder at nothing, gazed at me indelighted amazement.
"You splen--did creature!" she cried.
"I--I would like to go; Aunt Frank, you will let me?" I said meekly, astoo late I realised how differently a New York girl _bien elevee_ wouldhave received the invitation. But, indeed, my heart jumped with rapture.
Without John, Mrs. Baker really didn't know how to refuse me.
"But--but--but--" she stammered.
"Surround her with a bodyguard, if you like," said the General. "You'llhave Judge Baker and Hynes, of course; and that--what's the name ofthat shy young man who's just gone? He looks presentable."
"But--but--" protested Aunt; "Bake'd never go; and--Nelly--has--do yousuppose Mr. Burke has evening clothes?"
"Naturally," I said with nonchalance, though my quick temper was fired.I was as sure he hadn't as I was that Mrs. Van Dam knew his name, andthat he would oppose the dance even more strongly than did Aunt; and Iwished that I could go without him. But it was useless to think ofthis, with even the General suggesting a bodyguard. I resolved that heshould at least consult a decent tailor.
"Why not have detectives as guards--as if I wore a fortune indiamonds?" I grumbled.
"Let us at least have Mr. Burke. Now, Helen, what do _you_ propose towear?" concluded the General.
Mrs. Van Dam took an extraordinary interest in my toilette. She evencame to see my new evening dress fitted, and put little Mrs. Edgar intosuch a flutter that she prodded me with pins. I'll simply have to askFather to increase my allowance; cheap white silk, clouded with tulle,was the best I could manage.
"H'm--Empire; simple and graceful," pronounced Oracle. "Square neck,Helen, or round?"
"Why--I've never worn a low dress--not really low," I said, longing butdubious. "Pa says--"
"Nonsense!"
"A shame!" chimed Mrs. Edgar.
And it would have been a shame to hide my neck and arms. I laughed whenthey cut away their interfering linings from the white column of mythroat, and left across my shoulders only wisps of tulle. And lastnight, when I came to dress, I laughed again, and kissed the entrancingflesh, so firm and soft and gleaming faintly pink, and then I blushedbecause Aunt Marcia saw me do it. I worship the miracle of my ownfairness. I could scarcely bear to put gloves on, even.
Miss Baker gathered all my shining hair into the loose knot that suitsme, and put roses at my girdle and into the misty tulle about myshoulders. Ethel fitted on my slippers, and brought her fan and herlace handkerchief, and when I had smiled for one last time at theparted scarlet lips and the brilliant eyes that smiled back at me fromthe mirror, and had turned reluctantly from my dressing table, I wasstill joyous at remembrance of the light, the grace, the marvel of thevision I had seen reflected, that had seemed fairly to float in thedancing rose light of its own happiness.
Down in the hall the family were waiting, with John and Mr. Hynes; and,as I glided into sight on the stairway, Milly behind me, the Judgelooked up at us, quoting with heavy playfulness:--
"She seizes hearts, not waiting for consent, Like sudden death thatsnatches unprepared.
"How many conquests will satisfy you to-night, fair Princesses? Milly,will two young men answer instead of one old one?" He had been exemptedfrom serving on my bodyguard.
"Bake! Death! How can you," sputtered Aunt. "Come, girls, the carriageis waiting.
"Wish I could dance," whispered Ethel, reaching up to touch myflowers--a pathetic little figure poised on her best foot.
"Oh, I wish you could! I wish you were going," I replied hastily,bending to kiss the little creature, the better to hide my suddenconsciousness of my bared shoulders.
All in the room were looking at me as if never before had they beheldmy beauty. John's strained eyes seemed to plead with me for ananswering glance of affection, and I knew that Ned--though I wasn'tconscious of looking at him at all--was alternately white and red as Iwas myself. I felt his glance so confused and passionate and withal soimpetuous that, as Aunt Marcia lifted my wrap and I went down to thecarriage, my heart beat violently, and I sank back into my corner in afrightful, blissful maze of fear and ecstasy.
But even then I didn't know what had happened to me.
We had but a few blocks to go, and before I had recovered, a man inlivery was opening the carriage door at the mouth of a canvas tunnelwhich seemed to dive under a great house that towered so far above thestreet as to look almost narrow. We passed through the tunnel, anotherman opened a door almost at the street level, and we advanced into ahall extending the entire width of the house, so brilliantly lightedand so spacious that I caught my breath at thought of our errand,seeing that the size of the place and its splendour so far exceededwhat I had supposed.
I clutched at Aunt's hand as if to stop her in front of the hugefireplace, where logs, crackling on tall "firedogs" of twisted iron,gave out a yellow blaze; but then quickly such a different terror andwonder and joy came again upon me that I lost consciousness ofeverything but Ned; and the masses of ferns and palms through which wewere moving--the doll-like servants in silk stockings and kneebreeches, their scarlet coats emblazoned with the monogram of the VanDams--faded out of sight. Yet I never once glanced in his direction.
We had to go to the third floor for the dressing rooms; but in spite ofthose minutes of grace, when a maid had removed my wraps--she startedwith amazement as she did so--my cheeks were still aflame.
Mrs. Baker and Milly fussed with my dress, and Aunt became incoherentin her efforts to soothe and encourage me; for she feared the ordealbefore us, and thought that I feared it also. And I was afraid, but notof meeting any person in that house, save one. I quivered at thethought that outside the door Ned was waiting, that we must go out tohim, that I might even be obliged to speak to him. And yet I longed tosee him again, to be with him--somewhere, away from them all.
Perhaps at last I was beginning to understand.
The General had been sent for, and I kept close to her and to Peggy,when they went down with our party to the parlours on the second floor.There, at our entrance, groups of people seemed to divide with an eagerbuzz that at any other tim
e would have been ravishing music. Last nightI didn't know that I heard it, though now I remember how splendidlyapparelled women and sombre-coated men turned their heads as we passed.Of course word had spread that the beautiful Miss Winship was expected.
It was almost in a dream that I stood before Mrs. Henry Van Dam--ashort, heavy woman, in purple velvet, flashing with diamonds. Without avestige of awkwardness or timidity I answered her effusive welcome, andthe greetings of her grayish wisp of a husband, and of Mr. and Mrs.Marmaduke Van Dam--both thin and grave; her neck cords standing outunder her diamond collar. And of little Mr. Robert Van Dam. And of Mr.Bellmer--a pink, young, plump thing, all white waistcoat and bald head,just as I remembered him at the Opera.
I held a reception of my own. I did it easily. After the first momentsNed's presence excited me. I was always conscious of his nearness; Ifelt that whether I talked or was silent--though I was never allowed tobe that--to whatever part of the room he went, his glowing eyes neverleft me. And there came to me a thrilling confidence that heunderstood. He knew that to me all these people were so much lace, somany blotches of white complexion, so many pincushions of silk orlustrous satin stuck through with jewels. He knew that I cared for noone of them; for nothing; not even for my beauty, except that--thankGod!--it pleasured him.
I knew that perfect beauty had come to me last night--had come becauseI loved and was loved; and because Love was not the pale shadow I hadcalled by its name, but a rapture that was in my heart and in my faceand in the faces 'round me and in the music that swelled from the greatballroom!
I had no idea of time, but perhaps it wasn't long before the Generalmanoeuvred me from the sitting-out rooms and across the hall to jointhe dancers. Mrs. Baker and John were with us; Ned was not, but I knewthat he would follow.
It was a big apartment that we entered, occupying the entire end of thesecond floor towards the street, perhaps thirty feet by forty andtwenty high; for an instant I was dazzled by the gleam of white andgold, the rise of pilasters at door and window, the shimmer of soft,bright hangings and everywhere the cheat of mirrors. I breathed delightat sight of the lovely ceiling all luminous--no lights showed anywhere,yet the air was transfused by a rosy glow. The next minute I hadforgotten this in the pulse of the music and the blur of movingfigures; my favourite waltz was sounding, and the scene was one offairyland.
"Shall we dance?" asked John, and I came to myself in a panic. Dancewith John--there? I hadn't thought of that. Of course I must, but--why,his step is abominable! It always was!
"As you please," I said with the best grace I could muster, glancingnervously up at him. He looked well in his new evening clothes, but hisface was set in grim lines of endurance, and I went on with guiltyhaste to forestall question or reproach:--
"I hope you waltz better than you used."
"I'm afraid I don't," said he dryly.
And he didn't. I simply couldn't dance with him. He never thought aboutwhat he was doing or where he was going. I looked back despairingly atthe General, grimacing involuntarily as I gathered my skirts from underhis feet; and I had an odd notion that she smiled with malicioussatisfaction. Could she have reckoned upon weaning me from him by adisplay of his awkwardness? I felt nettled at both of them.
"Helen," he said abruptly, as we laboured along the crowded floor, "doyou remember our last dance--at the Commencement ball?"
The night of our betrothal! What a time to remind me of it! I had justseen Ned and Milly join the group we had left; and as they, too, beganto dance, I felt a stab of pain that made me answer angrily--we werebarely escaping collision with another couple:--
"If it's only at Commencement that you care to dance--"
He tightened his grip upon me almost roughly, then took me back to myAunt without a word.
I tried to reason myself out of my pettishness, to atone to John, poorfellow! But my eyes followed Ned and Milly among the graceful, flyingfigures, and my feet tapped the floor impatiently until, presently, themusic stopped and they came to us. Then Ned's parted lips saidsomething, and then--as the music recommenced, I was in his arms and,almost without my own knowledge or volition, was moving around the room.
Moving, not dancing--floating in a rosy light, away and away from themall, into endless space, my hand in his, his breath on my cheek; alwaysto go on, I felt; on and on, to the dim borderland between this earthand Heaven.
Presently his eyes told me that something was happening. The dancershad been too busily engaged to pay much heed to my first briefadventure, but in the intermission of the music I had been noticed, andnow I saw that there was an open space about us. Here and there acouple stood as they had risen from their seats, while others, who hadbegun to dance, had come to a pause. Slender girls in clouds of gauzeand fat matrons panting in satins were gazing in our direction. In thedoorway were gathered people from the parlours.
"Are they looking at us? We must stop," I whispered.
"Looking at you, not us. But don't stop; not yet--Helen!"
"Helen!" He had called my name! My eyes must have shown with bliss andterror. I had an almost overmastering desire to whisper his name also,to answer the entreaty of his voice, the clasp of his fingers. But Iforced myself to remember how many eyes were watching.
"I--we must stop," I said.
"Not yet; unless--we shall dance together again?"
I scarcely heard the "yes" I breathed. I shouldn't have known what Ihad said but for the sudden light in his eyes, the firmer pressure ofhis arm.
My feet didn't seem to touch the floor, as he gently constrained mewhen I would have ceased to dance, and kept me circling round with himuntil we came opposite my seat; then he put me into it as naturally asif I had been tired.
Tired! Our faces told--they must have told our story. But the otherswere blind--blind! John had risen as if to meet us, but if he took noteat all of my flushed face, he doubtless thought me frightened.
It was exultation, not fright. I did not heed the following eyes, when,as gliding figures began to cover the floor again, John took me back tothe parlours. I went with him submissively; I thought of nothing butthe joy of my life, the love of my lover. I shall think of nothing elseto the end of my days.
Ned went with me, confused and impulsive and ardent as John wasattentive and curiously formal. But I wasn't allowed to remain witheither of them. I didn't wish to do so. I was glad that people crowdedabout me--men in black coats all alike, whose talk was as monotonous astheir broad expanses of shirt front or their cat's eye finger rings.But I tried to listen and answer that I might hide from John my tumult.
Before long I danced again--this time with some black coat; then withanother and another and another; and, at last, once more with Ned.
We scarcely spoke, but he did not hide from me the fervour of his look,nor I from him the wild joy of mine. There was no need of words whenall was understood, but as he put his arm around me, the tinkling musicreceded until I could hardly hear it, the figures about us grewindistinct--and in all the world there were left only he and I.
"Once there was another Helen," he said. His voice caressed my name.
"There have been many; which Helen?"
I so loved the word as he had spoken it that I must repeat it after him.
"_The_ Helen; there was never another--until you. She was terrible asan army with banners; fair as the sea or the sunset. Men fought forher; died for her. She had hair that meshed hearts and eyes that smote.Sometimes I think--do you believe in soul transmigration?"
My heart beat until it choked me. Some voice far in the depths of mysoul warned me that I must check him--we must wait until I--he--Milly--
"Sometimes; who does not? But Prof. Darmstetter would say that it wasnonsense," I whispered, and waited without power to say another word.
"It is true; Helen is alive again, and all men worship her."
His eyes were so tenderly regardful that--I could not help it. Oncemore I raised mine and we read each other's souls. And the music seizedus and swept us away
with its rapture and its mystery.
The rest of the evening comes to me like a dream, through which Ifloated in the breath of flowers and the far murmur of unheeded talk. Isaw little, heard little, yet was faintly conscious that I was thelodestar of all glances and exulting in my triumph. It was marvellous!
I didn't dance much. People don't at New York balls. But whether Idanced or talked with tiresome men, my heart beat violently because hewould see the admiration I won--he would know that I, who was Helen, aQueen to these others, lived only for him, was his slave.
There was supper, served at an endless number of little tables; therewas a cotillon which I danced with Mr. Bellmer. John stayed in theparlours with Aunt, and Ned danced with Milly, but I was not jealous.
Jealous of Milly, with her thin shoulders rising out of her whitedress, her colourless eyes and her dull hair dressed like mine withroses? Jealous, when his glance ever sought me; when, as often as weapproached in a figure, if I spoke, his eyes answered; if I turned awaymy face, his grew heavy with pain?
Once in the dance I gave a hand to each of them. His burned like myown; hers was cold.
"Tired, Milly?" I asked, and indeed I meant kindly.
"No," she said sulkily, turning to the next dancer.
I couldn't even pity her, I was so happy.
I couldn't bear to have the beautiful evening end, and yet I was gladto go home--to be alone.
When John lifted me from the carriage, his clasp almost crushed myhand; poor John, how he will feel the blow! I didn't wait to saygood-night to Aunt; I didn't look at Milly, but ran away to my room.
Oh, indeed, the child doesn't love him! Milly knows no more about Lovethan I did two months ago. She's bloodless, cold; I do not wrong her.Some day she will learn what Love is, as I have learned, and will thankme for saving her from a great mistake. I hope she will!
I have saved myself from the error of my life. I'm not the same woman Iwas yesterday. It makes me blush to think how I looked forward to theadulation of the nobodies at that dance. I care for no praise but his.Why, I'll go in rags, I'll work, slave--I'll hide myself from every eyebut his, if that will make him love me better. Or I will be Empress ofbeautiful women, if that is his pleasure, and give him all an Empress'slove.
I couldn't sleep last night. I know that he could not. I know that hehas been watching, waiting, as I have, for to-day, when he must come tome.