"Oh, Irene, my darling, why have you done this mad, disobedient thing?
Mamma and Bertha are terribly angry! When Bertha first saw you, dancing
with her lover, too, I thought she would have fainted. Her eyes flashed
lightning. I believe she could have killed you! Child, child, you will
break my heart by your willfulness! Oh, you cannot dream what this may
bring upon you!"
The sweet voice broke in almost a wail of pain, and beautiful Elaine
Brooke drew her sister further into the shaded alcove of the bay-window
as she waited anxiously to hear her reply.
Pretty little Irene shrugged her dimpled white shoulders, and pouted her
rosy lips.
"Now, Ellie, you needn't begin to scold," she said. "You know you all
treated me unfairly, and so papa said when he came home!"
"Papa _has_ come, then?" asked Miss Brooke, in a tone of relief.
"Yes, and he gave me leave to come, so you needn't lecture any more,
Ellie," said the girl, with an arch, pleading glance.
But a long and bitter sigh drifted over the grave, sweet lips of Elaine
Brooke.
"Then why, ah, why _didn't_ papa bring you himself?" she said, wringing
her slender white hands together. "He should have known that Bertha
would be enraged at your coming with Mr. Kenmore."
"Don't scold any more, Ellie, _please_ don't," said her little sister,
impatiently; "papa _was_ coming, but, while I was up-stairs dressing, he
was called away for an hour. So when I came down to the parlor there was
Mr. Kenmore, and I made him go with me. Please let me go now. I want to
dance some more."
"Oh, Irene, indeed you must not dance again to-night! Promise me you
will not!" exclaimed her sister, anxiously.
Irene shook the white hand off her shoulder, dismayed and rebellious.
"I'm engaged to Mr. Kenmore for ever so many dances," she exclaimed,
"and I don't want to break my word! You're selfish, Ellie, and want to
have all the pleasure to yourself!"
"Selfish," Elaine echoed, with almost a moan. "Oh, child, you don't
understand!" then she added, almost piteously: "Irene, in the large
parlor next to the dancing-room there are some young people like
yourself who are not dancing at all, but playing games and having
charades and tableaux. Darling, won't you join them, and keep out of
Bert's and mamma's sight? Perhaps they won't be so angry, then."
"I'm not afraid of them----" Irene began, rebelliously, but stopped
short as she saw a glittering tear splash down on her sister's cheek.
"Oh, Ellie, you great baby," she said, "must I give up all my pleasure
just to please you?"
"Yes, for this once, love," answered Elaine, tremblingly. "I'll try to
make it up to you, indeed I will, some other time, dear," and drawing
Irene further into the shadow of the lace curtain, she bent down and
kissed the fresh young lips.
"But here comes Mr. Kenmore, now. What shall I say to him about our
dances?" asked the girl, with a sigh of disappointment.
"Oh, I'll make your excuses," Elaine answered, readily, as Mr. Kenmore
came toward them, not looking very eager, certainly, over the dances he
was fated to lose.
His handsome brown eyes lighted with admiration as they fell upon Elaine
Brooke, and she was well worthy of it, for in her maturer style she was
as lovely as the girlish Irene.
The family Bible registered the eldest Miss Brooke as thirty-two years
old, and she had all the repose and dignity of the age, with all the
charms of ripe loveliness. Men called her a "magnificent woman," envious
girls sneeringly dubbed her an old maid. This latter was her own fault,
certainly, for she had admirers by the score who went wild over her rare
blonde beauty. But Miss Brooke, unknown to all, treasured a broken dream
in her heart like her hapless namesake:
"Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable;
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat."
So the years went and came, and Elaine answered no to all her suitors,
though her mother frowned and her father sighed, while deep down in her
heart she echoed the "Lily Maid's" song:
"Sweet is true love, though given in vain, in vain,
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain."
But none of this pain was visible on Elaine's face as she looked up at
Guy Kenmore with that calm, sweet smile, softly bright, like the
moonlight that shone on the outer world.
"Mr. Kenmore, I know you will excuse Irene from her dances," she said
sweetly. "She wants to go and play games with the other children in the
parlor."
"_The other children_," Irene muttered ominously, and before Mr. Kenmore
could murmur his ready assent, she exclaimed, in a tone of witching
_diablerie_:
"Yes, but I'm not going to desert my partner! Come along, Mr. Kenmore,
and you shall be my play-fellow with the children."
With a gay little laugh and a triumphant glance at her sister, Irene
slipped her hand in his arm, and led her captive away, leaving Elaine
gazing after them in silent dismay and despair. Irene had outwitted her
after all, and her artful scheme for keeping her apart from Bertha's
lover was an ignominious failure.
With a sinking heart and a face as pale as death, she turned away to
convey the tidings of her failure to her mother.
Mrs. Brooke, a still handsome woman of the brunette type, received the
news with an ominous flash of her large black eyes.
"Little minx! she shall pay for it, dearly," she muttered, between her
teeth.
"Oh, mamma, it is only thoughtlessness I think. She doesn't really mean
to be disobedient," faltered Elaine, tremulously.
Her mother gave her a swift, displeased glance that silenced the
excusing words on her lips.
Bertha came up, flushed from the dance, a dark, haughty beauty, three
years younger than Elaine, but never owning to more than twenty years.
"Where is Mr. Kenmore? I left him with you, mamma," she said.
"He left me to seek his partner for the next dance," Mrs. Brooke
answered, in a tone of repressed fury.
Bertha turned her large, flashing dark eyes on her elder sister.
"I thought mamma sent you to get Irene out of the way," she said,
imperiously.
"I did my best, Bertha," Elaine answered, gently. "I persuaded her to go
and play games in the parlor. Unfortunately Mr. Kenmore came up as she
was going, and she playfully carried him off with her. I am sure he will
return to us directly. He regards Irene as the merest child."
"She is as old as you were when she was----" Bertha sneered in her
sister's ear, making the last word so low it was inaudible.
Beautiful Elaine's cool, white cheeks crimsoned, then grew paler than
before. She answered not a word.
"Hush, Bertha. Are you crazy, making such remarks in this crowded room?"
whispered her mother, in angry haste.
"I shall not be answerable for what I say or do unless you get my lover
away from that wretched girl," the dark-eyed beauty retorted furiously
in her ear.
"Come, then, let us go and see their games," Mrs. Brooke answered,
soothingly, to allay the young lady's violent rage. "He will leave Irene
and come to you as soon as he sees you."
The three moved away to the crowded parlor where the girls from twelve
to sixteen, and the lads from sixteen to twenty, were enjoying
themselves, to the top of their bent. Having exhausted everything else,
they had determined on having a wedding. Mr. Kenmore being the most
grown-up of the gentlemen, was selected for the groom, and Irene Brooke
for the bride.