When Miss Trevennon appeared at breakfast, the morning after Major
King’s visit, Mr. Gaston greeted her with more than his usual
cordiality, and for the first time addressed her as “Miss Margaret.”
The young lady replied to his morning salutation with a composed
civility, and gave no sign of having observed the distinguished
familiarity with which she was treated. She was quite her usual self
during the meal, but she said little to Louis Gaston, and he observed
that she did not voluntarily look at him. By the time that breakfast
was ended she had managed, without awakening the least suspicion on the
part of the others, to convey to Louis Gaston the conviction that she
was set like steel against him.
It was at the same time depressing and inspiring to the young man to
perceive this. He was sorry to have this charming girl angry with
him, and yet he could well imagine how pleasant a reconciliation with
her would be. He was certainly not a coxcomb, but he was accustomed
to good-humored handling by women, and he had no misgivings as to
his ability to adjust the present little difficulty to his entire
satisfaction. Meantime, there she sat opposite, looking very charming,
with her air of dainty reserve. The impertinent little ignoramus, to
pretend to set _him_ right! He smiled to himself at the absurdity of
the thought. The situation seemed to him extremely piquant.
He had already settled upon the remark with which he would open the
conversation, when he should presently follow her into the bow-window
as usual, and he was therefore a little disconcerted when Miss
Trevennon passed out of the dining-room by the door that opened into
the hall, and mounted the stairs to her own room, whence she did not
emerge until Louis, after long waiting, had gone off down town.
Later in the day, when Margaret found herself alone with Mrs.
Gaston, she had some thought of informing the latter of last night’s
occurrences, but upon reflection this appeared so difficult that
she gave it up. It was doubtful if any good purpose could be served
thereby, and besides it would be very hard to describe her own feelings
with sufficient reserve to avoid the rudeness of speaking unwarrantably
to Mrs. Gaston of the brother-in-law who was such a favorite with her.
Apart from all this, though there had been no opportunity for the
positive manifestation of the feeling, it was borne in upon her that
Mrs. Gaston herself would be found ranged on Louis’ side. So she said
nothing about the matter and listened to Cousin Eugenia’s plans for the
day just as usual.
There was another dinner on hand for this evening, and Mrs. Gaston
expressed her intention of going out to recuperate her energies by
a drive before luncheon, and Margaret presently left her, agreeing
to join her, ready for the expedition, at twelve. In the hall she
met a servant with some letters, one of which proved to be from her
mother. This letter, filled with all manner of little, familiar
domestic details, was read and re-read by Margaret with a degree of
feeling quite inconsistent with the nature of its contents. The quiet
home-pictures presented such a contrast to the annoyances recently
encountered, that for a while she heartily wished herself back at
Bassett.
There was but one item of especial importance in the letter, and
that was the announcement of the sudden return from Europe of Mrs.
Trevennon’s nephew, Alan Decourcy, an individual who had long reigned
in Margaret’s mind and memory as a veritable Prince Charming, who
possessed to the letter every endowment of nature and advantage of
fortune which the most exacting of maidens could have asked. Margaret
had not seen him since he had come to man’s estate, but, as a boy, he
had spent much of each year at a country home near Bassett, owned by
his mother, and she had always looked upon him as the most fortunate
and gifted of beings. He was an only son, and his sister, who was some
years older than himself, was now married and living in Baltimore. To
this sister Margaret had pledged herself for a visit before returning
to the South. How pleasant it would be to meet Alan there! His mother
was now dead, and after finishing his course at a Northern university
he had gone abroad for a year’s travel, but it was only at the end of
four years that he had now returned. She wondered if he would prove
to be as handsome and charming as memory painted him! His occasional
letters had been very delightful, and led her to believe that all
the bright promises of his youth had been fulfilled. And now he had
actually returned, and she was to see him! Mrs. Trevennon wrote that
she had already sent him her daughter’s address in Washington, saying
that he must run over from Baltimore and see her. She added that her
nephew had said that he would probably linger a while in New York
before joining his sister, and so his movements were rather indefinite.
The feelings which this announcement of Alan Decourcy’s return awakened
were contradictory. Margaret was naturally very anxious to see this
charming cousin, but she did not want him to come to see her in this
house; she hoped she might never have another visitor here. Alan
Decourcy was sure to be all that was elegant and charming, but since
one person who had come to this house to see her had been treated with
such discourtesy she wished for no more visitors. Already she had begun
to lay plans for the termination of her visit, and she now resolved to
speak to Cousin Eugenia, on the subject of going to Baltimore, as soon
as the opportunity should offer.
“I wish I had Alan’s New York address,” she said to herself; “I’d write
and tell him I would go to Baltimore, and so prevent his coming here.
What _would_ papa and mamma think if they knew I was staying at a
house where I could not ask my cousin to call upon me, because I had no
assurance that my visitors would not be treated rudely? They would not
believe it. They simply could not understand it. My dear old father! He
would take my letter to the light and read it over with his spectacles
on, to see if there was not some mistake in his understanding of it.
Once convinced, however, I know well enough what his course would be.
He would write me to come away at once.” And Margaret rose to prepare
for her drive with eyes that had grown moist at these recollections of
her far-off home.
By the time that Cousin Eugenia sent to summon her, however, Miss
Trevennon had recovered her composure, and when, a little later, seated
by her cousin’s side, she was bowling swiftly over the smooth, hard
pavements, the exhilaration of the exercise had roused her spirits to
such buoyancy that small annoyances, past and future, seemed trivial
enough to be ignored.