A few minutes before six o’clock that evening, Margaret, clad in a long
black gown that swathed her up to her milk-white throat, came slowly
down the broad staircase of General Gaston’s house and entered the
empty drawing-room.
Finding herself alone, she moved across the warm, bright room to the
table which stood under the chandelier, and taking up the evening
paper, which had just been brought in, she began rather listlessly
to run her eyes along its columns. Presently some particular item
caught her attention, and so absorbed her that she was unconscious of
approaching footsteps, until she caught sight of a gentleman who was
just entering the room from the hall.
Lowering the paper, she waited for him to come forward, which he did
with a certain perplexity of expression and a slight confusion of
manner. Seeing these indications, the girl looked into his face with
frank self-possession, and said gently:
“Miss Trevennon.”
As there was no immediate response, she presently added:
“You are Mr. Gaston?”
The sound of his own name recalled him, and he came up and greeted
her with a perfect ease that instantly put to flight the moment’s
confusion; not however, before a watchful eye, applied to a crack
between the folding-doors of the library, had noted the fact of its
existence. These doors were now suddenly thrown apart, and Mrs. Gaston,
dressed in a gay and ornate costume, entered the room.
“I beg pardon of you both for not having been on hand to introduce
you,” she said, with careless composure, as she took her
brother-in-law’s hand and turned her cheek to receive his light kiss.
“You have managed to dispense with my offices, I’m glad to see! How
are you, Louis?--though it is the merest form to ask. He is one of
the hopelessly healthy people, Margaret, who are the most exasperating
class on earth to me. Anything in the _Star_, dear? Let me see.”
She took the paper from Miss Trevennon’s hand, and began carelessly
looking it over. Suddenly her eye lighted.
“Here’s something that may interest you, Louis,” she said, handing
him the paper, as she pointed with her heavily jewelled finger to a
paragraph headed:
“Southern Imports.”
At the same instant General Gaston entered the room, and just afterward
a servant announced dinner.
Mrs. Gaston had mentioned that it was characteristic of her to be a
magnanimous victor, and it may have been that fact which prompted her
great urbanity to her brother-in-law on the present occasion. She ran
her hand through his arm affectionately, as she walked toward the
dining-room beside him, and thanked him with great effusiveness for the
delicious candy. To all which he answered by the not very relevant
response, uttered half under his breath:
“Never mind, madam! I’ll settle with you for this.”
Margaret, of course, was _vis-à-vis_ to Louis Gaston at the table,
and while both joined in the general conversation which ensued,
she perceived, by her quick glances, that he was a man of not more
than medium height, with a straight and well-carried figure and a
dark-skinned, intelligent face. He had dark eyes, which were at once
keen and thoughtful, and very white teeth under his brown mustache.
Although in undoubted possession of these good points, she did not set
him down as a handsome man, though his natural advantages were enhanced
by the fact that he was dressed with the most scrupulous neatness in
every detail, the very cut of his short dark hair, parted straight in
the middle, and brushed smoothly down on top of his noticeably fine
head, and the well-kept appearance of his rather long finger-nails,
giving evidence of the fact that his toilet was performed with
punctilious care.
It was something very new, and at the same time very pleasant to
Margaret, to observe these little points in a person whose first and
strongest impression upon her had been that of genuine manliness. In
Bassett, the young men allowed their hair to grow rather long and
uneven; and when, for some great occasion, they would pay a visit to
the barber, the shorn and cropped appearance they presented afterward
was so transforming as to make it necessary for their friends to
look twice to be sure of their identity. As to their nails, in many
instances these were kept in check by means of certain implements
provided by nature for purposes of ruthless demolition, and when this
was not the case they were left to work their own destruction, or else
hurriedly disposed of in the intervals of vehement stick-whittling. Not
a man of them but would have set it down as effeminate to manifest the
scrupulous care in dress which was observable in Louis Gaston, and it
was upon this very point that Margaret was reflecting when Gaston’s
voice recalled her.
“I’m uncommonly glad to get home, Eugenia,” he said, tasting his wine,
as the servant was removing his soup-plate. “I think Ames is beginning
to find out that this Washington office is a mere subterfuge of mine,
and that the real obstacle to my settling down in New York is my
fondness for the domestic circle. I really wish Edward could manage to
get sent to Governor’s Island. I must confess I should prefer New York
as a residence, if I could be accompanied by my household gods and my
tribe. Shouldn’t you, Miss Trevennon?”
Margaret had been sitting quite silent for some time, and Gaston,
observing this, purposely drew her into the conversation, a thing
his sister-in-law would never have done, for the reason that she had
observed that her young cousin possessed the not very common charm of
listening and looking on with a perfect grace.
“I have never been to New York,” said Margaret, in answer to this
direct appeal, “and I have only a limited idea of its advantages as a
place of residence, though I don’t doubt they are very great.”
“They are, indeed,” said Louis, observing her with a furtive scrutiny
across the graceful mass of bloom and leafage in the _épergne_. “You
will like it immensely.”
“If I ever make its acquaintance,” said Margaret, smiling. “Washington
seemed to me the border-land of the Antipodes before I came here, and I
have never thought of going beyond it.”
“You have lived, then, altogether in the South?” said Gaston, with a
tinge of incredulity in his voice, so faint as to escape Margaret, but
perfectly evident to Mrs. Gaston, for the reason, perhaps, that she was
listening for it.
“Yes, altogether,” Margaret answered.
“My poor little cousin is in a most benighted condition,” Mrs.
Gaston said. “She has not only never been to New York, but--only
think!--until to-day she never heard of Ames & Gaston!”
“Impossible! Unbelievable!” said Louis. “Was it for this that they
designed ‘All Saints,’ and have even been mentioned in connection with
the new skating-rink? Eugenia, you are a true friend. It will not be
necessary for me to carry a slave about with me to remind me that I am
a man, like the great monarch we read of in history; a sister-in-law is
a capital substitute and performs her office quite as faithfully.”
“Perhaps it is well for me,” said Margaret, smiling demurely, “that I
began my list of ignorances with such an imposing one; it will make
those that follow seem trivial by comparison.”
“There is wisdom in what you say, Miss Trevennon,” said Louis; “and if
you wish to impress yourself with the magnitude of the present one, get
Eugenia to take you to see ‘All Saints.’”
The conversation now turned into other channels, and it was not
until Margaret was saying good-night to Mrs. Gaston, in the latter’s
dressing-room, that she reverted to this subject.
“I can well believe that Mr. Gaston is a clever architect,” she said,
“his eye is so keen and steady. I should like to see some of his work.
This ‘All Saints’ Church is very beautiful, I suppose. Shall we really
go to see it some day?”
Mrs. Gaston broke into her little light laugh.
“That’s a piece of nonsense of Louis’, my dear,” she said. “It’s a
cheap little mission chapel, built by a very poor congregation in a
wretched part of the town. The Travers girls got Louis interested in
it, and he made them the designs and estimates and superintends its
erection. Of course he charged them nothing; in fact, I believe he
subscribed a good deal toward it himself. He is amused at the idea
of their calling it ‘All Saints,’ and making it such a comprehensive
memorial. He and his partner have designed some really beautiful
buildings here, however, which I will show you. Louis is very clever,
don’t you think so?”
“I hardly feel able to judge, yet,” said Margaret, “but if you say so,
I will believe it, for since I’ve been with you, Cousin Eugenia, I
begin to think I never knew any one before who was clever.”
“Why are you always forcing one to remind you of your ignorance,
child?” retorted Mrs. Gaston, laughing lightly. “This is the most
convincing proof we have had of it yet.”
As Margaret went up to say good-night, she felt a strong impulse to
express some of the ever-ready affection which her cousin’s kindness
had awakened in her heart; but Cousin Eugenia was a woman to whom it
was very hard to be affectionate, and she thwarted her young cousin’s
intention now by turning her cheek so coolly that the ardent words
died on the girl’s lips. Mrs. Gaston was naturally unsympathetic,
and it almost seemed as if she cultivated the quality. However that
might be, it was certain that, at the end of a month spent in daily
companionship with this bright and agreeable cousin, Margaret was
obliged to admit to herself that she had not taken one step toward the
intimate friendship she would have liked to establish between them. Her
cousin was kindness itself, and always companionable and agreeable,
but she was scarcely ever really serious, although she had at hand
a reserve of decorous gravity which she could always draw upon when
occasion required.