CHAPTER VIII.
A LITTLE BELTED EARL.
Feb. 4.
Five wasted days; and nothing more to tell, though some women mightn'tthink so; nothing but--another triumph!
I've been to the Charity Ball. I've danced with a Lord--such a littlefellow to be a belted Earl! I have scored over brilliant women ofSociety.
It isn't the simple country girl of a few weeks ago whom Ned loves, buta wonderful woman--a Personage; and I am glad, glad, glad! Though nowoman could be good enough for him. I'm not; I am only beautifulenough. And oh, so feverishly happy, except that waiting is hard, sohard. I'm so restless that I scarcely know myself.
If I might tell him that I love him--as other Queens do! I am afraid ofhis glance when he is here, because he knows. But when he's not here, Iimagine that he does not know, that he will never come again unless helearns the truth, and I say it over and over: "I love him! I love him!"and am glad and panic-stricken as if he had heard.
I have never had any other secret, but the Bacillus, I would sooner diethan tell that, to Ned. My love I would cry aloud, but I cannot untilhe speaks, and he cannot speak until--has Milly no pride?
I thought--I thought that the very day after the dance--why, I couldhave rubbed my eyes, when I went down to a late breakfast, to find Mrs.Baker chirping with sleepy amiability, and Milly doling out complacentgossip to Ethel. The very sky had fallen for me to gather rainbowgold--and here we were living prose again, just as before.
I had struggled with my joy through all the short night, for I hadimagined them suffering and angry; but I do believe that on the wholeMilly had enjoyed the dance, and liked to shine even by her reflectedimportance as the beautiful Miss Winship's cousin. She had been vexedby Ned's admiration for me; and yet--and yet she didn't understand. Thestupid! Didn't see that his love is mine.
There may have been a pause as I came, dazzling them like a great rosylight; but then my aunt stifled a yawn as she said, "Here's Nelly," andthe chatter went on as before.
But I didn't hear it. Gliding confusedly into a seat, I had opened anote from John. "--Called West on business; start to-day," it said; andthen indeed I began to feel the tangle, the terrible tangle--my cousinsblind, John gone, when I was counting the minutes until I could seehim. Oh, I must be free! It is his right to know the truth, and--whatcan Ned say while I'm affianced? I am Milly's cousin, and he John'sfriend.
I hurried to escape. I longed to be by myself that I might recall Ned'severy look and word. Without reason--against reason--I felt that at anyminute Ned might come, and waves of happiness and dread and impatienceswept over me, and kept me smiling and singing and running anxiously tomy glass.
Ned loves my beauty; I pulled down my hair and reknotted it and pulledit down again, fearful--so foolish have I grown--lest I might fail toplease him; and frowned over my dresses and rummaged bureau drawers forribbons, until Milly, who had tapped at my door and entered almostwithout my notice, asked abruptly:--
"Who's coming?"
"No one; John--no, he's out of town."
I flushed to see her regard the litter about me with calmdeliberateness.
"Oh, you don't have to take pains for John," she said with a shortlaugh. "But come; Meg's down stairs."
The General had followed Milly up; she whisked into the room, showeringme with congratulations on my success at the dance, she claimed me fora dinner, a concert--half a dozen engagements.
"Oh, by the way," she said, checking her flood of gossip. "Who d'yousuppose is to be at the Charity Ball? Lord Strathay. You'll talk with areal Earl, Nelly--for of course he'll ask to be introduced."
"Another dance!" groaned my aunt, who had trotted panting in theGeneral's wake; "I'm sure I wish I'd never said she might go; I'm asnervous as a witch after last evening."
Poor Aunt; she looked tired. She's really becoming the great objector.
Such a day as it was! I started at every footstep; my heart gave anabsurd jump at every movement of the door hangings. Of course I knewthat Ned couldn't--that we mustn't see each other until--but Ned ismine; it's so wonderful that he loves me. If I were Milly, I wouldn'tremain an hour--not a minute!--in such a false position.
Yet the next day passed just like that day, and the next and the nextand the next; every morning a note from John, scrawled on a railwaytrain, and begging for a line from me. I wrote, poor fellow; so that'ssettled, and I'm very sorry for him.
I got rid of one morning by calling on Prof. Darmstetter. It was threeweeks since I had seen him, and he was testy.
"I see much in t'e newspapers about t'e beautiful Mees Veensheep, butv'y does she neglect our experiment?" he demanded, following me acrossthe laboratory to my old table. "V'ere are my records, my opportunitiesfor observation? Has t'e beautiful Mees Veensheep no regard forscience?"
"You've always said she hadn't, and pretended to be glad of it; I won'tcontradict," I returned. "But hurry up with your records; it doesn'tneed science or the newspapers, does it, to tell you that the beautifulMiss Winship cannot go about very freely?"
"Ach, no," said he humbly; for he could not look upon my face and holdhis anger. "If I haf not alreaty gifen to Mees Veensheep t'e perfectbeauty t'at I promised, I cannot conceive greater perfection. You aresatisfied vit' our vork--vit' me?"
"Yes, I'm satisfied," I said coolly.
Just as soon as I could, I left him. Oh, I ought to be grateful, morethan ever grateful now that the Bacillus has won for me the mostblessed of earth's gifts--the gift of love. But I'm not; I wish I mightnever again see Prof. Darmstetter; he reminds me--he makes me feelunreal. As for his records, the experiment is finished. We havesucceeded, and I want to enjoy our success and forget its processes.And why not? He knows in his heart that we have no further need of eachother.
My real records now are public; the Charity Ball last night added abrilliant chapter.
The Charity Ball! How calmly I write that! I hope it may be the lasttriumph I need to win in public without Ned; but I enjoyed it. Therewas no awkward John to spoil my dancing, no jealous Milly, noover-anxious Aunt. I had Mrs. Marmaduke Van Dam for my chaperon--morethe great lady, with all her thin rigidity, than Mrs. Henry; and forcompanion the General, almost as young and light-hearted as I.
And I was mistress of myself, strong and self-contained. Instead ofbeing confused when all eyes were bent upon me, I had a new feeling ofglad self-command. I felt the rhythm of my flawless beauty, my pureharmonies of face and form, and found it natural that fine toiletsshould be foils to my cheap white dress, and that I should be thecentre around which the great assembly revolved. I'm really gettingused to myself.
I danced constantly, danced myself tired, holding warm at my heart thisone thought: that in the morning Ned would read of my triumphs and beproud of them, and rejoice because she about whom the whole city istalking thinks only of him.
My partner in the march was "Hughy" Bellmer, as the General calls him;I begin to know him well. He's harmless, with his drawl and his roundpink face that shines with admiration. Deliciously he patronized theball.
"Aw, Miss Winship," he said, "too large, too public. People prefer todawnce in their own houses."--The ball was at theWaldorf-Astoria.--"The smaller a dawnce is, the greater it is, don't yesee."
"But aren't any great people here?" I asked demurely. "I am just acountry mouse, and I've really counted on seeing one or two greatpeople, Mr. Bellmer--besides you, of course."
"The Charity Ball is--aw, y'know, Miss Winship, an institution," heexplained, fairly strutting in his complacency at my deference; "and asan institution, not as a Society event, ye understand, it is patronizedby the most prominent ladies in the city."
"How good of them!" I cried, laughing.
He was so funny! But he was useful, too; he knew about everybody.
Some of the women I shall remember--Mrs. Sloane Schuyler, leader of thesmallest and most exclusive of Society's many sets--a handsome womanwith well-arched eyebrows; and Mrs. Fredericks, of the same group;sallow, with great black
eyes, talking with tremendous animation; andMrs. Terry--of the newly rich; Mr. Bellmer's aunt; dumpy, diamonded anddisagreeable-looking.
"But where are the famous beauties?" I asked eagerly. "Won't theydance, even for charity, except in their own houses?"
Some of them were there; tall, pale, stylish girls, or women whosedarkened eyes and faces mealy with powder told of a bitter fight withtime. Why, I haven't seen a woman whom I thought beautiful since--sinceI became so.
"Aw, Miss Winship, really, y'know, you have no rivals," said my partner.
I hadn't supposed him clever enough to guess what I was thinking.
"Oh, yes I have--one," I said; "isn't there somewhere here a real liveLord?"
But just then we joined Meg, and it was she who pointed out to me "TheEarl of Strathay--the Twelfth Earl of Strathay," in a whisper ofcomical respect and deference.
He wasn't very impressive--just a thin, pale young fellow with abulbous head, big above and small below; but I was glad to do Meg aservice; for of course she wished to meet him, and of course LordStrathay was presented to the beautiful Miss Winship and her chaperons.
Then I danced with him. I felt as if I were amusing a nice boy; hehardly came to my shoulder. I asked him if he liked America.
He wasn't too much of a boy to reply:--
"Like is a feeble word to voice one's impressions of the land of lovelywomen."
And then he looked at me. Oh, he did admire me immensely, and I tookquite a fancy to him in turn, though it seemed pathetic that such apoor little fellow--I don't believe he's twenty-one--should carry theweight of his title. I danced with his cousin, too, a Mr. Poultney; andwherever I went Strathay's eyes followed me wistfully.
Meg danced with Strathay and amused me by her elation. She hadn'treally recovered from it to-day.
To-day! Blessed to-day! Lord Strathay's only an Earl; to-day there cameto me--Ned! Oh, this has been the gladdest, most provoking day of mylife, for I had only a moment with him.
It was Mrs. Baker's "afternoon," and we had a good many callers; thefame of my beauty has spread. They gazed furtively at me as they talkedand sipped their tea, and it was all very stupid until--oh, I didn'tknow how perturbed, how unhappy I'd been, until--I glanced up for aword with the General, who came late, and behind her I saw--Him. Hecame to me as if there were no one else in the room.
Ah, I have been unhappy! I have known that he would try to keep awayfrom me. Useless! Useless to fight with love! It's too strong for us.At sight of him joy like a fire flashed through my veins.
But there were my cousins; there was Meg--she looked at himimpatiently, I fancied, as she has sometimes looked at John. Poor John,it didn't need her surveillance to break his feeble hold upon my heart.And there they stayed. They wouldn't go. They stayed, and talked, whileI shivered and grew hot with fear and gladness and the excitement ofhis presence; they talked--of all senseless topics--about the ball.
"Why, Mr. Hynes, we've missed you," said Ethel carelessly, at sight ofhim. "Oh, Meg, tell us about last night, won't you? Helen's saidnothing; almost nothing at all."
"Oh, what is there to tell?"
It made me impatient. How could I chatter nothings when Ned was by myside, smiling down at me so confusedly?
"Most girls would find enough! You should have heard the dowagerscluck, Ethel!" exclaimed the General, her face losing its vexed look atthe thought. "It was bad weather for their broods. You never saw such ascurrying, pin feathers sticking every which way. The proudest hour ofHughy Bellmer's life was when the march started, and he walked besideHelen--same parade as always--through that wide hall between the Astorgallery and the big ball room; committeemen and patronesses at the headand the line tailing. You may believe the plumes drooped and the warpaint trickled. Nelly was the only girl looked at. Milly, you shouldhave been there? Headache? You look pale beside Helen."
"Oh, I don't hope to rival Nelly's colour; she looks like--likesomebody's '_Femme Peinte par Elle-meme_.'" said Milly with a laughthat might have been innocent. Since Ned's entrance she had grown whiteand my cheeks had burned, until there was reason for her jest.
"Is Mr. Bellmer handsome--handsome enough to be Nelly's partner?"persisted Ethel, impatient for her gossip--to her it's all there is ofgayety. "And is Lord Strathay--nice?"
"Mr. Bellmer's an overgrown cherub with a monocle," I laughed. Nedshall not think me one of those odious, fortune-hunting girls.
"Hughy's pretty good-looking, Ethie," said Meg, amiably; "and the bestfellow in the world; but probably not of a calibre to interest acollege girl. And Lord Strathay"--the name rolled slowly from hertongue, as if she were loth to let it go--"is a charming fellow. Justsucceeded to the title. He's travelling with his cousin, the Hon.Stephen Allardyce Poultney. Nelly danced with him. And did she tell youthat Mrs. Sloane Schuyler begged to have her presented? Sister to aDuchess, you know. We'll have Helen in London next. Nobody there tocompare with her. Just what Strathay said, I do assure you."
London! Men of title, and great ladies and the glitter of a court! OnceI may have dreamed of power and place and the rustle of trailing robes,and being admired of all men and hated of all women, but now in myannoyance I longed to cry out: "Why can't you talk sense? Why babble ofsuch silly things?"
To make matters worse, Uncle came just in time to hear the General'slast remark.
"I do not think our Princess would leave us," he said, "even if--
'at her feet were laid The sceptres of the earth exposed on heaps To choose where she would reign.'"
It was scarcely to be borne. I knew he was thinking of John, and Icaught myself looking down at my hand, praying that Ned might see thatI no longer wore the opal ring.
Then came Aunt Frank with a headache, looking ill enough, indeed; and Iwas glad to jump up and serve her some tea.
"Milly has a headache, too," I said; and she looked from Milly's vexed,cold face to mine, almost peevishly replying:--
"Nothing ever seems to ail you, child."
After all the weary waiting, Ned and I exchanged only a word. But theword was a delight and a comfort.
More than once the Judge has suggested for me a short absence from thecity to win a respite from the newspapers; and this morning, when hesaw that the _Echo_ had smuggled an East Side girl into the ballroomlast night to tell the Bowery, in Boweryese, how the other half lives,her descriptions of me so incensed him that he almost insisted uponAunt's packing for Bermuda at once. Ned must have heard of that.
"You will not go away?" he said when he took leave of me.
"You know that Uncle--"
"You will not?"
"No."
I couldn't speak steadily. The low, passionate entreaty told me that hehad come to receive that pledge, and I gave it.
Oh, now, now, I cannot be unhappy! I know that he has tried to stayaway from me, and why he has not succeeded. Love has been too mightyfor us both. Love has conquered us, and I--I shall never again beunhappy!
BOOK IV.
THE BRUISING OF THE WINGS.