WALTZ.
A little commotion about the door--a little mob of young men and
boys--and a little spreading buzz and whisper--some hand-shakings--two
or three introductions--then another buzz--and Bart made his way
forward, with an air of being annoyed and bored and pushed forward
as if to escape. He was under the inspiration of one of those sudden
impulses upon which he acted, so sudden, often, as to seem not the
result of mental process.
He discovered Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Markham, with Julia, Miss Walters,
and several others, about them, whom he at once approached with the
modest assurance of a thorough-bred gentleman, safe in the certainty
of a gracious reception, and conscious of power to please. A happy
word to the two or three who made way for him, and he stood bowing and
smiling, and turning and bowing to each with the nice discriminating
tact that rendered to all their due.
Mrs. Ford graciously extended her hand, which he took, and bowed very
low over; she was nearest him. Mrs. Markham, in a pleased surprise,
gave him hers, and its reception was, to her nice perception, even
more profoundly acknowledged. To Miss Markham and Miss Walters
precisely the same, with a little of the chivalrous devotion of a
knight to acknowledged beauty.
"The fall and _winter_ style prevails, I presume," he said, in gay
banter, as if anticipating that their gloved hands were not to be
touched.
"Your memory is good, Mr. Ridgeley," said Julia, with a little laugh
and a little flush.
"Forgetfulness is not my weakness," he replied.
"I was not aware you knew Mrs. Ford," said Mrs. Markham, observing the
little flutter in Julia's cheeks, and thinking there was a meaning in
Bart's _persiflage_.
"Mrs. Ford and General Ford," he answered with much warmth, "have
been so very, very kind to me, that I have presumed to claim her
acquaintance, even here; but then, they have only known me three
months," with affected despair.
"Well," said Mrs. Ford, "what of that?"
"I find you with those who have known me all my life," with a
deprecating look towards Mrs. Markham.
"Well, Mr. Ridgeley, you are not deserving of forbearance at my hands,
if I only knew of anything bad to say of you."
"What exquisite irony! May I be permitted to know which of my thousand
faults is now specially remembered against me?"
"You have not permitted me, until this moment, even to speak to you
since your return last summer."
"May I ask that you will permit that to stand with my other
misdemeanors until some rare fortune enables me to atone for all at
once?"
"And when will that be?"
"Oh!
In that blissful never,
When the Sundays come together,
When the sun and glorious weather
Wrap the earth in spring forever;
As in that past time olden,
Which poets call the golden."
Laughing.
"And so I have poetry, and inspire it myself--that is some
compensation, certainly," said Mrs. Markham, smiling.
"I fear my verses have deepened my offence," said Bart, with affected
gravity.
Kate Fisher intervened here: "Mr. Ridgeley, I have more cause for
offence than even Mrs. Markham. Why didn't you come to my little
party? I made it on your account."
"The offence was great," he answered, "but then staying away was ample
punishment, as you must know."
"No, I don't know it. I know you weren't there, and your excuse was
merely a regret, which always means one don't want to go."
"Oh, Mrs. Ford!" said Bart, "see what your coming here, or my coming
here, exposes me to!"
"Have I heard the worst?"
"Well, you see, Mrs. Ford," said Kate, "that Mr. Ridgeley can waltz,
and so can Miss Walters, and I made a little party to see them waltz,
and he didn't come."
"That is grave. Will you leave it to me to pass judgment upon him?"
"I will."
"And do you submit, Mr. Ridgeley?"
"She's so very kind to you," remarked Mrs. Markham.
"I do," said the young man, "and will religiously perform the
sentence."
"Well, it won't be a religious exercise--you are to waltz with Miss
Walters, now and here."
A little clapping of little hands marked the righteousness of the
award.
"Mrs. Ford," observed the culprit, "your judgment, as usual, falls
heaviest on the innocent. Miss Walters, it remains for you to say
whether this sentence shall be executed. If you will permit me the
honor, I shall undergo execution with an edifying resignation."
The smiling girl frankly placed her hand in his: "I should be sorry to
prevent justice," she said, which was also applauded.
Major Ridgeley was spoken to, and it was understood that the next
dance would be a waltz, which had never before been more than named
in a Yankee ball-room, on the Reserve; and it was anticipated with
curiosity, not unmixed with horror, by many.
The floor was cleared, a simple waltz air came from the band, and the
pleased Miss Walters, in the arms of Barton, was whirled out from her
mob of curious friends, on to and over the nearly vacant floor,
the centre of all eyes, few of which had witnessed such a spectacle
before. The music went on with its measured rise and fall, sweet and
simple, and youth and maiden possessed with it, seemed to abandon
themselves utterly to it, and were controlled and informed by it; with
one impulse, one motion, and one grace, each contributing an exact
proportion, they glided, circling; and while the maiden thus yielded
and was sustained, her attitude, so natural, graceful and womanly,
had nothing languishing, voluptuous or sensuous; a sweet, unconscious
girl, inspired by music and the poetry and grace of its controlling
power, in the dance. Miss Walters dearly loved to dance, and above all
to waltz. She had rarely met a partner who so exactly suited her step
and style, and who so helped the inspiration she was apt to feel.
Bart had had little practice as a waltzer, but natural grace, and the
presence of ladies, usually brought him to his best; and it was not in
nature, perhaps, that he should not receive some inspiration from the
beautiful girl, half given to his embrace, and wholly to his guidance.
So around and around through the hushed and admiring throng they went,
whirling, turning, advancing, retreating, rising and falling, swaying
and sinking, yet always in unison, and in rhythmic obedience to the
music.
Sometimes the music rose loud and rapid, and then languished to almost
dying away; but whatever its movement or time, it was embodied and
realized by the beautiful pair, in their sweeping, graceful motions.
The maiden's face was wrapt with a sweet, joyous light in her
half-shut eyes; his, pale, but lit up and softened in the lamp-light,
seemed fairly beautiful, like a poet's.
"How beautiful!" "How exquisite!" from the ladies.
"What a dance for lovers!" said Mrs. Ford.
"They are lovers, are they not?" asked a lady from Warren.
"I think not," said Mrs. Markham, with a glance at Julia, who, never
withdrawing her eyes, stood with lips slightly apart, and her face
bright with unenvying admiration.
A little ripple--a murmur--and a decided clapping of hands around the
room, with other sounds from the crowd at the entrance, marked the
appreciation of the beautiful performance. The moment that this
reached Barton, he led his delighted partner towards her group of
friends, remarking: "Your admirers are sincere, Miss Walters, but too
demonstrative, I fear."
"Oh, I don't mind it," said the straightforward girl.
"And I have to thank you for your courtesy to me," he went on, "and
only hope that all my punishments may come in the same form."
"Mrs. Ford, is the judgment satisfied?"
"Satisfactory as far as you went, but then you did not serve out your
time."
"Have consideration, I pray, for the minister of justice," bowing to
Miss Walters.
"She seemed rather to like it," said Mrs. Ford.
"Indeed I did!" and the young ladies gathered about to congratulate
her, and cast admiring glances at her partner.
"Mr. Ridgeley," said Mrs. Markham, "I was not aware that you were an
accomplished waltzer."
"You forget," Bart answered mockingly, "that I am travelled; and you
know my only aptitude is for the useless."
"I did not say that."
"You are too kind. I sometimes supply words to obvious thoughts."
"And sometimes to those that have no existence."
The floor filled again, and the music struck up. Standing, a moment
later, at a window, Julia saw a figure pass out, pause at the roadway,
turn and look up. The full glare of the lamps revealed the face of
Bart, from which the light had faded, and its beauty and spirit of
expression had departed. He gazed for an instant up at the brilliant
and joyous scene, where a moment before he had been a central and
applauded figure, and then, muffling his face in his cloak, he turned
away.
He had not intended to go, and sat melancholy through the darkness of
the early night; but somehow, a hungry, intense longing came to him
to go and look for a moment upon the loveliness of Julia, as she would
stand open to the eyes of all, just for one moment, and then to go
away. He felt that he ought not to do it, but he went. He could not
help it.
When he reached the place, three miles away, he was annoyed by being
recognized and pointed at, and talked at, on account of his late
encounter with Grid.
"He ain't a powerful-lookin' chap." "I wouldn't be afeared o' him."
"He's a darned sight harder'n he looks," etc.
When he escaped into the ball-room, the impulse to go into the
immediate presence of Julia was followed, and ended by as sudden a
retreat. He had not known how utterly weak and helpless he was, and
felt angry with himself that he could ever wish for the presence of
one who had so scorned him. He was ashamed, also, that the music, the
dance, and gay joyance of the scene he had just left, had still such a
seductive charm for him, and he recorded a mental resolution to avoid
all similar allurements for the future. Having made this resolution,
and strong in his faith of keeping it, he merely turned to take final
leave, as he fell under the eyes of Julia, and without seeing her.
The night outside was cold, dark, and thick, with a pitiless snow,
that was rapidly filling the track along the highway. Bart turned,
without the remotest touch of self-pity, to face it, with a heart as
cold and dark as the night that swallowed him up. He felt that there
was not a heart left behind that would throb with a moment's pain for
him--that would miss him, or wonder at his departure; and he was sure
that he did not care.
Yet, with what a sweet, remonstrating, expostulating call the music
came after him, with its plaining at his desertion! Fainter and
sweeter it came, and died out with a wailing sob, as the night, with
its storm and darkness, blotted him out!
Mrs. Ford, who may have anticipated his attendance at the
supper-table, missed him. His late partner in the dance cast her eyes
inquiringly through the thronged rooms. She remarked to Julia that
she believed Mr. Ridgeley had left, and thought it very strange. Julia
said she presumed he had, and did not say what she thought.
Most of the elders left early; the young people danced the music and
themselves away, and the gray, belated dawn of the next day looked
coldly into the windows of a sacked, soiled, and silent house.