THE MUSICAL SOIRÉE.
A small, but judiciously-selected company had assembled; all were
people of musical tastes, and most of them capable of sharing in the
performances. There were but few ladies; perhaps it did not suit the
mistress of the house to have the attentions of the gentlemen divided
among too many. Miss Sandford was undeniably queen of the evening; her
superb face and figure, and irreproachable toilet, never showed to
better advantage. And her easy manners, and ready, silvery words, would
have given a dangerous charm to a much plainer woman. She had a smile,
a welcome, and a compliment for each,--not seemingly studied, but
gracefully expressed, and sufficient to put the guests in the best
humor. Mrs. Sandford, less demonstrative in manner than her
sister-in-law, and less brilliant in conversation and personal
attractions, was yet a most winning, lovable woman,--a companion for a
summer ramble, or a quiet _tête-à-tête_, rather than a belle for a
drawing-room. Mr. Sandford was calmly conscious, full of subdued
spirits, cheerful and ready with all sorts of pleasant phrases. It is
not often that one sees such a manly, robust figure, such a handsome,
ingenuous face, and such an air of agreeable repose. Easelmann was
present, retiring as usual, but with an acute eye that lost nothing
while it seemed to be observing nothing. Greenleaf was decidedly the
lion. It was not merely his graceful person and regular features that
drew admiring glances upon him; the charm lay rather in an atmosphere
of intellect that surrounded him. His conversation, though by no means
faultless, was marked by an energy of phrase joined to an almost
womanly delicacy and taste. His was the "hand of steel," but clothed
with the "glove of velvet." Easelmann followed him with a look half
stealthy, half comical, as he saw the unusual vivacity of the reigning
beauty when in his immediate society. Her voice took instinctively a
softer and more musical tone; she showered her glances upon him,
dazzling and prismatic as the rays from her diamonds; she seemed
determined to captivate him without the tedious process of a siege.
And, in truth, he must have been an unimpressible man that could steel
himself against the influence of a woman who satisfied every critical
sense, who piqued all his pride, who stimulated all that was most manly
in his nature, and without apparent effort filled his bosom with an
exquisite intoxication.
The music commenced under Marcia's direction. There were piano solos
that were _not_ tedious,--full of melody and feeling, and with few of
the pyrotechnical displays which are too common in modern
virtuoso-playing; vocal duets and quartets from the Italian operas, and
from _Orfeo_ and other German masterpieces; and solos, if not equal to
the efforts of professional singers, highly creditable to amateurs, to
say the least. The auditors were enthusiastic in praise. Even Charles,
who came in late, declared the music "Vewy good, upon my
soul,--surpwizingly good!"
Greenleaf was listening to Marcia, with a pleased smile on his face,
when Mr. Sandford approached and interrupted them.
"You are proficient in more than one art, I see. You paint as well as
though you knew nothing of music, and yet you sing like a man who has
made it an exclusive study."
Greenleaf simply bowed.
"How do you come on with the picture?" Mr. Sandford continued.
"Very well, I believe."
"My dear Sir, make haste and finish it."
"I thought you were not in a hurry."
"Not in the least, my friend; but when you get that finished, you can
paint others, which I can probably dispose of for you."
"You are very kind."
"I speak as a business man," said Sandford, in a lower tone, at which
Marcia withdrew. "The arts fare badly in time of a money panic, and all
the pictures you can sell now will be clear gain."
"Are there signs of a panic?"
"Decidedly; the rates of interest are advancing daily, and no one knows
where it will end. Unless there is some relief in the market by Western
remittances, the distress will be wide-spread and severe."
"I am obliged to you for the hint. I have two or three pictures nearly
done."
"I will look at them in a day or two, and try to find you purchasers."
Greenleaf expressed his thanks, warmly, and then walked towards Mrs.
Sandford, who was sitting alone at that moment.
"There is no knowing what Marcia may do," thought Sandford; "I have
never seen her when she appeared so much in earnest,--infatuated like a
candle-fly. I hope she won't be fool enough to marry a man without
money. These artists are poor sheep; they have to be taken care of like
so many children. At all events, it won't cost much to keep him at work
for the present. Meanwhile she may change her mind."
Greenleaf was soon engaged in conversation with Mrs. Sandford. She had
too much delicacy to flatter him upon his singing, but naturally turned
the current towards his art. Without depreciating his efforts or the
example of deservedly eminent American painters, she spoke with more
emphasis of the acknowledged masters; and as she dwelt with unaffected
enthusiasm upon the delight she had received from their immortal works,
his old desire to visit Europe came upon him with redoubled force.
There was a calm strength in her thoughts and manner that moved him
strangely. He saw in a new light his thoughtless devotion to pleasure,
and especially the foolish fascination into which he had been led by a
woman whom he could not marry and ought not to love. Mrs. Sandford did
not exhort, nor even advise; least of all did she allude to her
sister-in-law. Hers was only the influence of truth,--of broad ideas of
life and its noblest ends, presented with simplicity and a womanly tact
above all art. It seemed to Greenleaf the voice of an angel that he
heard, so promptly did his conscience respond. He listened with
heightening color and tense nerves; the delirious languor of amatory
music, and the delirium he had felt while under the spell of Marcia's
beauty, passed away. It seemed to him that he was lifted into a higher
plane, whence he saw before him the straight path of duty, leading away
from the tempting gardens of pleasure,--where he recognized immutable
principles, and became conscious that his true affinities were not with
those who came in contact only with his sensuous nature. He had never
understood himself until now.
A long meditation, the reader thinks; but, in reality, it was only an
electric current, awakening a series of related thoughts; as a flash of
lightning at night illumines at once a crowd of objects in a landscape,
which the mind perceives, but cannot follow in detail.
When, at length, Greenleaf looked up, he was astonished to find the
room silent, and himself with his companion in the focus of all eyes.
Marcia looked on with a curiosity in which there was perhaps a shade of
apprehension. Easelmann relieved the momentary embarrassment by walking
towards his friend, with a meaning glance, and taking a seat near Mrs.
Sandford.
"I can't allow this," said Easelmann. "You have had your share of Mrs.
Sandford's time. It is my turn. Besides, you will forget it all when
you cross the room."
"Trust me, I shall _never_ forget," said Greenleaf, with a marked
emphasis, and a grateful look towards the lovely widow.
"What's this? What's this?" said Easelmann, rapidly. "Insatiate
trifler, could not one suffice?"
"Oh, we understand each other, perfectly," said Mrs. Sandford, in a
placid tone.
"You do, eh? I should have interrupted you sooner. It might have saved
my peace of mind, and perhaps relieved some other anxieties I have
witnessed. But go, now!" Greenleaf turned away with a smile.
Marcia at once proposed a duet to conclude the entertainment,
--Rossini's _Mira bianca luna_,--a piece for which she had
reserved her force, and in which she could display the best
qualities of her voice and style. Greenleaf had a high and pure tenor
voice; he exerted himself to support her, and with some success; the
duet was a fitting close to a delightful and informal concert. But he
was thoroughly sobered; the effects he produced were from cool
deliberation, rather than the outbursts of an enthusiastic temper.
Earlier in the evening the tones and the glances of his companion would
have sent fiery thrills along his nerves and lifted him above all
self-control.
In the buzz of voices that followed, Marcia commenced a lively colloquy
with Greenleaf, as though she desired to leave him under the
impressions with which the evening commenced. The amusements of summer
were discussed, the merits of watering-places and other fashionable
resorts, when Greenleaf accidentally mentioned that he and Easelmann
were going presently to Nahant.
"Delightful!" she exclaimed, "to enjoy the ocean and coast-scenery
after the rush of company has left! While the fashionable season lasts,
there is nothing but dress and gossip. You are wise to avoid it."
"I think so," he replied. "Neither my tastes nor my pursuits incline me
to mingle in what is termed fashionable society. It makes too large
demands upon one's time, to say nothing of the expense or the
unsatisfactory nature of its pleasures."
"I agree with you. So you are going to sketch. Would not you and Mr.
Easelmann like some company? You will not pore over your canvas _all_
day, surely."
"We should be delighted; _I_ should, certainly. And if you will look at
my friend's face just now, as he is talking to your beautiful
sister-in-law, you will see that he would not object."
"Do you think Lydia is _beautiful_?"
The tone was quiet, but the glance questioning.
"Not classically beautiful,--but one of the most lovely, engaging women
I ever met."
"Yes,--she is charming, truly. I don't think her strikingly handsome,
though; but tastes rarely agree, you know. I only asked to ascertain
your predilections."
"I understand," thought Greenleaf; but he made no further reply.
"Don't be surprised, if you see us before your stay is over,--that is,
if Lydia and I can induce Charles to go down with us. Henry is too
busy, I suppose."
Charles passed just then; he was endeavoring to form a cotillon,
declaring that talk was slow, and, now that the music was over, a dance
would be the thing.
"Charles, you will go to Nahant for a week,--won't you?"
"What! now?"
"In a day or two."
"Too cold, Sister Marcia; too late, altogether."
"But you were unwilling to go early in the season."
"Too early is as bad as too late; it is chilly there till the company
comes. No billiards, no hops, no pwetty girls, no sailing, no wides on
the beach, no pwomenades on the moonlight side of the piazza. No, my
deah, Nahant is stupid till the curwent sets that way."
"Southern visitors warm the coast like the Gulf Stream, I suppose,"
said Greenleaf.
"Pwecisely so,"--then, after the idea had reached his brain, adding,
"Vewy good, Mr. Gweenleaf! Vewy good!"
The soirée ended as all seasons of pleasure must, and without the dance
on which Charles had set his heart. The friends walked home together.
Greenleaf was rather silent, but Easelmann at last made him talk.
"What do you think of the beauty, now?" the elder asked.
"Still brilliant, bewitching, dangerous."
"You are not afraid of her?"
"Upon my soul, I believe I am."
"What has frightened you? What faults or defects have you seen?"
"Two. One is, she uses perfumes too freely. Stop that laugh of yours!
It's a trifling thing, but it is an indication. I don't like it."
"Fastidious man, what next? Has she more hairs on one eyebrow than the
other? Or did you see a freckle of the size of a fly's foot?"
"The second is in her manner, which, in spite of its ease and apparent
artlessness, has too much method in it. Her suavity is no more studied
than her raptures. She is frosted all over,--frosted like a cake, I
mean, and not with ice. And, to follow the image, I have no idea what
sort of a compound the tasteful confectionery covers."
"Well, if that is all, I think she has come out from under your
scrutiny pretty well. I should like to see the woman in whom you would
not find as many faults."
"If a man does not notice trifles, he will never learn much of
character. With women especially, one should be as observing as a Huron
on the trail of an enemy."
"Ferocious hunter, who supposed there were so many wiles in your simple
heart?"
"Odd enough, there seemed to be a succession of warnings this evening.
I was dazzled at first, I own,--almost hopelessly smitten. But Sandford
gave me a jolt by bringing in business; he thinks there is to be a
smash, and advises me to make hay while the sun shines. Then I talked
with Mrs. Sandford."
"Now we come to the interesting part--to me!"
"But I shan't gratify you, you mouser! It is enough to say, that in a
few simple words, uttered, I am sure, without forethought, she placed
my frivolity before me, and then showed me what I might and ought to
be. I was like a grasshopper before, drunk with dew, and then sobered
by a plunge into a clear, cool spring. Besides, I have thought more
about your advice in regard to the lady, you dissembling old rascal!
For you know that in such matters you never mean what you say; and when
you counsel me to fall in love with a coquette, you only wish me to be
warned in time and make good my escape. If it were light enough, I
should see that grizzly moustache of yours curl like a cat's, this
minute. You can grin, you amiable Mephistopheles, but I know you! No,
my dear Easelmann, I am cured. I shall take hold of my pencils with new
energy. I will save money and go abroad, and----I had nearly forgotten
her! I will take a new look at my darling's sweet face in my pocket,
and, like Ulysses, I'll put wax into my ears when I meet the singing
Siren again."
"I hope your rustic _fiancée_ is not clairvoyant?"
"I hope not."
"If she is, she will cry her little eyes out to-night."
"Don't speak of it, I beg of you."
"You are getting lugubrious; we shall have to change the subject. Love
affects people in as many different ways as wine. Some are
exalted,--their feet spurn the earth, their heads are in the clouds;
some pugnacious, walking about with a chip on the shoulder; others are
stupidly happy,--their faces wearing a sickly smile that becomes
painful to look at; others again, like you, melancholy as a wailing
tenor in the last act of 'Lucia.' Like learning, a little draught of
love is dangerous; drink largely and be sober. The charmer will not
cast so powerful a spell upon you the next time, and you will come away
more tranquil."
There was just the least shade of sarcasm in the tone, and Greenleaf,
as usual, was a little puzzled. For Easelmann was a study,--always
agreeable, never untruthful, but fond of launching an idea like a
boomerang, to sweep away, apparently, but to return upon some
unexpected curve. His real meaning could not always be gathered from
any isolated sentence; and to strangers he was a living riddle. But
Greenleaf had passed the excitable period, and had lapsed into a state
of moody repentance and grim resolution.
"You need not tempt me," he said, "even if that were your object, which
I doubt, you sly fox! And if you mean only to pique my pride in order
to cure my inconstancy to my betrothed, I assure you it is quite
unnecessary. I shall have too much self-respect to place myself in the
way of temptation again."
"Now you are growing disagreeable; the virtuous resolutions of a
diner-out, on the headachy morning after, are never pleasant to hear.
There is so much implied! One does not like to follow the idea backward
to its naughty source. The penitent should keep his sermons and
soda-water to himself."
"Well, here we are at home. We have walked a mile, and yet it seems but
a furlong. If I were not so disagreeable as you say, we would take
another turn about the Common."
"Sleep will do you more good, my friend; and I think I'll go home. I
haven't smoked since dinner. Good night!"
Greenleaf went to his room, but not at once to sleep; his nerves were
still too tremulous. With the picture of Alice before him, he sat for
hours in a dreamy reverie; and when at last he went to bed, he placed
the miniature under his pillow.