BORROWED PLUMES
"Uncle David, I was never so sorry to come to the end of any visit as I
am this one," said Jeannette Crofton. She was holding Mr. Warne's frail
hand in both her own, and looking straight into the young gray-blue eyes
which looked affectionately back at her. She was dressed for her
departure, and the great closed town car which had brought her was
waiting at the door.
Near her stood Georgiana and James McKenzie Stuart. Mr. E.C. Jefferson
had just appeared in the background, come to bid the guest farewell.
"You have given us much pleasure, my dear," responded Mr. Warne, "and if
you have received it as well, the balance is pretty evenly struck."
"I might have stayed two days longer," declared Jeannette with evident
longing, "if it hadn't been for that sister of mine. I'm sure she could
have had a birthday dance without me--but no! How I wish I were taking
you all with me--even you, Mr. Jefferson," she added with one of her
adorable smiles, as she turned to him; "you, whom I can't possibly
imagine caring to dance a step, not even with the prettiest girl I could
find for you."
"You almost make me wish I knew how to dance a step," said Mr.
Jefferson, advancing to take her hand. "As it is, I can at least wish
that prettiest girl a partner worthy of her grace."
"While I am wishing," exclaimed Jeannette with characteristic
impulsiveness, "why in the world don't I bring about my own wishes? Oh,
where have my wits been! Georgiana, darling, run and dress and go with
me! I'll send you back to-morrow in the car. And you, too, Mr. Stuart!
Oh, come, both of you, and dance at Rosalie's birthday fête to-night!
Please--please do!" She turned to Mr. Warne. "Mayn't she, Uncle David?
Couldn't you manage to spare her just for twenty-four hours?"
They looked at one another, smiling, hardly believing that the gay
suggestion was a serious one.
But by Jeannette, accustomed to having her own way once a way had
occurred to her, all objections were thrust aside. "Oh, but you must
come!" she cried. "I'll not take no!"
"Come and talk it over a minute with me, crazy child," bade Georgiana;
and she drew her cousin out of the room, where she could state the great
difficulty which, being a woman, had instantly assailed her. "Jean, I
hate to quash such a glorious idea, but--I shall have to be
frank--clothes!"
"With loads of frocks hanging in my wardrobe at home? And half of them
too trying for me to wear at all, while they would suit you perfectly.
Nonsense! Oh, hurry and make ready. James Stuart will go if you will; I
saw it in his eyes."
It could not be refused, this tempting invitation, with such a lovely
tyrant to enforce her will. One word, however, did James Stuart and
Georgiana Warne exchange in a corner before they capitulated.
"George, my evening togs--they've been put away for the four years since
I left college. They must be about the most hopelessly ancient cut
conceivable to eyes like hers. Shall I risk looking like a rustic in
such a house as that?" But Stuart's eyes were eager as a boy's.
"I'll not go if you won't, Jimps. As for rusticity, I can keep you
company. Can you bear to lose such a frolic? I can't."
"Neither can I, hang it! All right, I'll be a sport if you will," agreed
Stuart with a laugh, and rushed away to pack a bag in short order, all
the zest of irrepressible youth, in one who had been forced by
circumstance to foreswear most of the joys of youth for stern labour,
coming uppermost to bid him make merry once more at any cost of after
fall of spirits.
"Thank goodness I've had the sense always to keep the latest of
Jeannette's 'Semi-Annual' tailored suits pressed and trim," thought
Georgiana as she dressed. "This is a year behind the extreme style, but
I know perfectly well I look absolutely all right in it, and my hat,
having once been hers, is mighty becoming and smart, if it is a
make-over. It's lucky I can do those things; that's one benefit of going
to college, anyhow."
A few other "make-overs" in the way of dress accessories, all of
exquisite material, on account of their source, and daintily preserved
because of their frailty after having served two owners, went into her
traveling bag. For the dance itself, since there was no other way, she
was not loath to accept Jeannette's generous offer, and, being a very
human creature, could not help looking forward with delight to the
prospect of finding herself arrayed in such apparel as would
successfully sustain any scrutiny which might be brought to bear upon
the country cousin. As for Stuart, she had no fears for him, for his
years of college life had made him an acceptable figure upon any
occasion, and she was confident his broad shoulders and fine carriage
could atone for any slightly antique cut of lapel or coat-tail.
Altogether, it was a very happy young person who embraced Mr. David
Warne, shook hands with Mr. Jefferson, and ran down the path to the
great car in the wake of Jeannette, and followed by James Stuart looking
extremely personable. Well-cut clothes were the one extravagance Stuart
allowed himself now that he was immured for at least the early half of
his life, as he expected, upon the farm of his inheritance.
"Well, well, I'm glad to have my little girl run away for a few hours,"
said Father Davy, from the window where, with Mr. Jefferson at his
shoulder, he stood watching for the final wave of Georgiana's hand. "She
has enjoyed her cousin's visit, but it has meant considerable extra
labour for her. This seems a fitting return for Jeannette to make."
"One can hardly blame Miss Crofton for wanting to prolong her enjoyment
of your daughter's society," observed Mr. Jefferson, his eyes watching
closely the laughing faces behind the glass as the travelers settled
themselves. "I can imagine one's feeling a very decided emptiness in a
place which she had left."
"There, they're off!" announced Mr. Warne, waving his slender arm with
eagerness, his delicate features alight with pleasure in this unexpected
happening. "Emptiness, you say, Jefferson?" he added as the two turned
away, with the car out of sight down the snowy road. "That quite
expresses it. Even for a few hours I am conscious of a distinct sense of
loneliness without Georgiana. Her personality is one which makes itself
felt; it has individuality, audacity; even--I think--that curious
quality which for want of a better name we call 'charm.' Am I too
prejudiced?"
He placed himself upon his couch, plainly very weary with the flurry of
the last hour. He lay looking up at Mr. Jefferson, who had lingered a
little before going back to the work which loudly called to him. It was
quite possible for the younger man to comprehend how desolate was the
gentle invalid's feeling at being left, if only for a day and a night,
in the care of the friendly neighbour who was to minister to his needs
and who was already to be heard bustling about the dining-room, laying
the table for the coming meal.
"You may be prejudiced," admitted his companion, "but it is a prejudice
which can be readily forgiven--and even shared," he added, smiling.
"Her cousin," pursued Mr. Warne slowly, "would outshine her in beauty
and in sweetness of disposition, perhaps, though I doubt if Jeannette
has ever had a fraction of the tests of character and endurance my girl
has had."
"She surely never has," agreed the other. "And as for mere sweetness of
disposition, there are other qualities which make their own appeal."
A whimsical smile appeared upon the pale face resting against one of
Georgiana's crimson couch pillows. "How she would make me signals of
distress and warning," he mused, "if she could hear me carrying on an
antiphonal service in her praise with our lodger, who, she would
consider, knows her not at all. Well, well----
"'Man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.'
You'll forgive an old man's romanticism, Mr. Jefferson, I hope?"
"You are one of the youngest men I know. And if you may quote
Shakespeare to your purpose, I may quote good old Doctor Holmes," said
Mr. Jefferson, drawing the pillow into an easier position as he spoke:
"'He doth not lack an almanac
Whose youth is in his soul.'"
To Georgiana Warne, a year out of college, and during that year having
sorely missed the many gayeties of the life she had known for four happy
years, the present experience was delightful. She enjoyed every minute
of the swift drive over the sixty miles to her cousin's home, enjoyed
the arrival there, the meeting with the family and their house guests
assembled for afternoon tea, the installment in a luxuriously furnished
room where Jeannette presently brought her an armful of gowns to choose
from for the evening. A small dinner was to precede the dance, and all
sorts of scheming for Georgiana's pleasure had been fermenting in
Jeannette's brain on the way home.
"I've arranged with Rosalie to put you next her special prize--the most
wonderful man she knows. All her set are crazy over him, though he
belongs in ours fast enough. It's Miles Channing, just home after a
year's travel, and as good looking as any illustrator ever drew. You see
you simply must be your most brilliant self. And here's the way to do
it--wear this!"
She held up before Georgiana's disconcerted gaze such a marvel of colour
and cunning as brought a gasp of astonishment and a quick denial: "Oh,
my dear! Not that--for me. It's bad enough to wear your things at all,
but don't give me something that will make everybody look at me, like
that!"
"That's precisely what I want," laughed Jeannette. "And this is a thing
I haven't ventured to wear and never shall, though I'm wild to do it.
But I couldn't carry it off; you can. Those orange shades will be
glorious with your eyes and hair. Besides, as for making you conspicuous
above the rest, on account of any gorgeousness of colour or eccentricity
of style, it simply can't be done these days. So put this on and see for
yourself. You needn't wear it, of course, if you don't like it; but you
will."
Reluctantly Georgiana allowed a slim French maid to slip the marvel of
her country's art over the bared shoulders, and the next minute she was
staring at herself in a long mirror, while Susette clasped her hands,
and gay young Rosalie, passing the door at the moment and summoned to
the private view, cried joyously:
"Oh, Georgiana, you're perfectly stunning! Of course you must wear it,
and you'll be the star of the evening."
Rosalie rushed on, having settled the questions out of hand, after the
manner of the youthful. Jeannette was laughing as she called her mother
in to confirm the decision.
Mrs. Crofton, languidly interested, surveyed her niece with approval.
She was an impressive lady, was Aunt Olivia, and was accustomed to have
her opinion carry weight. "It suits you, my dear," was her verdict.
"Those who can wear such daring effects should do it, for every scene
needs points of light and intensity."
"And these other frocks," Jeannette declared, pointing to them where
Susette had spread them out upon the bed, "are just colourless baby
things that anybody can wear."
"They look exquisite to me," regretted Georgiana, eying them wistfully.
Somehow, now that she was here, she did not so much enjoy the thought of
appearing in borrowed finery, and, since it must be done, would have
preferred the simplest white frock in Jeannette's wardrobe. But this was
not to be without displeasing her hostesses, and she reluctantly
submitted. Susette begged leave to arrange her hair, Jeannette hunted
out silk stockings and slippers to match the frock, and Rosalie
contributed the long white gloves which completed the costuming.
When Georgiana was ready to descend she took one last look at the girl
in the long mirror, and turned to Jeannette, herself a picture in the
delicate colourings which she affected and which set off her golden
beauty. "I feel like the old woman in the nursery song," she said,
"doubtful of my identity."
"But you must admit you're simply glorious," cried Jeannette. "I knew
you were a beauty, but I didn't know you were such a raving one as
this."
"I'm no beauty," denied Georgiana with spirit. "It's just the clothes.
But you--I never saw anything so enchanting as you to-night."
"Delightful! I'm so glad, for--there's somebody I want to enchant. Come
on," and Jeannette led the way.
At the foot of the great staircase, about a wide fireplace, Georgiana
saw James Stuart with a group of other young men, and noted swiftly that
there was no too-striking contrast to be noted between her friend and
his faultlessly attired companions, except that his face and hands wore
a deeper coat of winter tan than theirs, and he looked stronger and more
virile than any of them. And even in his outdoor colouring, there was
among them one who rivalled him, the one who, as Georgiana instantly
guessed, was the lately arrived traveler. A moment later she met
Stuart's eyes and saw his look of astonishment as he gazed at her.
Presently, when those whom she had not already met had been made known
to her, she found Stuart at her elbow. "Am I dreaming?" said his voice
in her ear, "or is this my chum? I'm almost afraid to speak to you!"
"You look awfully nice, Jimps," she returned under her breath. "Yes,
isn't it absurd for me to be peacocking like this? But they made me do
it."
"You take my breath away."
"Look at Jean," she whispered. "Isn't she the loveliest thing you ever
saw in your life?"
He looked. "You and she are a pair," he admitted.
Jeannette came up to them with the tall traveler, and Georgiana found
herself looking up into a pair of dark eyes whose glance told her that
their owner found her worth studying intently. Miles Channing was of the
sort who waste no time in preliminaries. By the time she had sat out
half the dinner by his side she felt as if she had been under fire for
hours. All her youth and wit responded to his sallies, and she enjoyed
the encounter as keenly as a girl might be expected to do, who for a
year had seen no men but the slow village swains--always excepting James
Stuart, who was her one reliance in time of famine.
Channing made no attempt to disguise his preoccupation with the most
attractive of the few strangers in the set of young people whom he had
known for years. Between the dinner and the dance, Jeannette, who had
been observing without seeming to observe, dropped a word in Georgiana's
ear:
"You've done it, dear. I never saw him lose his head so completely.
You'll have to be careful or you'll have all the girls down on you.
They're crazy over him, you know--including Rosalie."
"Absurd! I shall never see him again, so what does it matter?" retorted
Georgiana.
"Don't be too sure of that. Nothing can stop him when he's interested.
And you know you are a witch to-night; anybody would be caught in your
snare. I didn't know you were such a clever thing at the game, though I
might have guessed it."
"If I weren't, I might take lessons of you," Georgiana gave back. "You
have Jimps slightly delirious, I can see. Is he the one you wanted to
enchant? I'm sure you've done it."
"Isn't he splendid? He looks so much stronger and more interesting than
half these boys I've known all my life. I do want him to have a good
time."
"He's having it."
Georgiana was sure of this, but she was having so good a time herself
she didn't mind. More than once she had caught Stuart's eyes across the
table, and had noted how they were sparkling. The glance the two
exchanged might have been interpreted to mean: "Fun, isn't it? You play
up to your opportunities and so will I. This won't happen again in our
lives, perhaps."
Presently the dancing began, in great rooms cleared for the purpose and
decorated with every art of the florist. The music was all of a quality
more perfect than any Georgiana had ever heard, and the strains which
assailed her ears made her wild to dance to every note. She was besieged
by invitations.
"But I haven't danced for more than a year, and I don't know one of the
latest steps," she said regretfully.
"We'll soon remedy that," promised Chester Crofton, her cousin, who
carried her off into an unoccupied room, where the music could yet be
heard, and proceeded to teach her. She was easily taught, having all the
foundations after four years of practice among college girls, and she
was soon able to go upon the floor with young Crofton and the rest.
Miles Channing did not dance, but after watching for a time--while
Georgiana was acutely conscious that his eyes constantly followed
her--he claimed and bore her off before others could prevent. In a
palm-shadowed corner well removed from observation he drew a long breath
of content and settled down beside her.
"I hope you will not be too much bored at missing a round or two," he
began in the slightly drawling speech which was somehow one of his
charms, it was so curiously accompanied by his intent observation. "I
haven't danced for so long I can't venture to attempt it, especially
with you."
"I should be the most patient of partners, I'm so unaccomplished
myself," declared Georgiana.
"Nevertheless I shouldn't want to try you. You dance like a sylph, I
like an elephant."
"I don't believe it."
"You do grudge sitting out, then, do you?" he asked.
"Not a bit."
"It wouldn't really matter if you did, for I intend to hold my advantage
now I have it. I care more to talk with you than for all the dances on
the program. And the time is so short I must make the most of it. You go
back to-morrow, I understand?"
"Yes, indeed."
"And you'll not be here soon again?"
"I don't expect to. I'm a very busy person at home and can seldom be
spared."
"That means that whoever wants to know you must come to your home?"
Georgiana felt her pulse beats quickening. This was certainly losing no
time. She assented to the interrogation, explaining that her father was
an invalid and she was his housekeeper. She felt no temptation to
represent things to Mr. Channing as other than they were. It was somehow
an atonement for appearing in her borrowed attire that she should not
allow appearances to deceive this new acquaintance into thinking her
home the counterpart of her cousin's. The news did not appear in the
least to disconcert him.
"I should like very much to meet your father," Channing said; and
Georgiana liked him for taking the trouble to put it in that way. He
instantly added: "And I should like still more to see you in your own
home. May I have that pleasure?"
"We shall be very glad to see you," she promised, careful of her manner.
"No matter how soon I come?"
"I suppose you will allow me to reach home first?" she questioned gayly.
"Barely. This is Wednesday night. You go home to-morrow--Thursday. May I
come Saturday?"
"You have been living on railway schedules so long you have acquired the
habit," she gave back with slightly heightened colour. In the course of
her experience she had seen more than one young man change his plans
after encountering her, but she had never known one to form new ones as
quickly as this.
"I have discovered that when one wants to reach a place very much, he
can't start too soon," he said very low, with such obvious meaning that
she had some difficulty in keeping her cool composure. It was not only
his words, but his looks and manner which spoke. She had never dreamed
that outside of stories men ever really did begin to fire on sight, like
this.
The matter settled, Channing began to talk of other things, but through
all his speech and acts ran the visible thread of his instant and
powerful attraction to her, so that she was conscious of the colour of
it. By the time two dances had gone by and she was sought and found by
an eager claimant, the girl was quite ready to get away from this new
and decidedly disturbing experience. And when, a little later, she
allowed James Stuart to try one of the new steps with her, she had a
comfortable sense of having got back upon known and solid ground, after
having been swimming in a too-swift current.