When would she be in?
Servant couldn't tell--uncertain--didn't know.
The colonel went away, found some brother officers at the hotel, and
dined with them. Afterwards he returned to Mr. Mumbie's, but met with no
better success; Miss Heath was still "not at home." Disappointed again,
Mark returned to his hotel and retired to his room to smoke in gloomy
meditation and solitude. He was debating upon the propriety of calling
again that day, when his privacy was invaded by one of the officers he
had dined with. Being an old comrade of the colonel, he burst in
unceremoniously, "Where the devil have you been, Gildersleeve? I've been
looking all over for you the past two hours. Want to see you badly.
What's the matter, old boy; you look awfully down in the mouth. Not
sick, I hope? Here, rouse up; I've got an invite for you to a grand
shine to-night. It's a big blow-out, and we'll have some fun."
Mark drew from its envelope an engraved card imparting the information
that the pleasure of his company was requested by Mrs. Van Spuytenduyvel
at No. ---- Madison Square, on that evening.
"What's this, major?" inquired Mark; "Who is Mrs. Van Spuytenduyvel?"
"Don't know the Van Spuytenduyvels! Why, benighted boy, the Van
Spuytenduyvels are one of the most illustrious and stupid families in
the State, and of the best blood of the Knickerbockers. The wretches
wallow in wealth. Where stands yon costly fane was once the ancestral
cabbage plantation of the Van Spuytenduyvels. However, that's neither
here nor there. The lady is an old friend of mine, and that's enough.
Met her a while ago--mentioned you--told her you were a good-looking
boy, battle-scarred, and all that sort o' thing; and she said, bring him
along, by all means, and made me promise besides. So don't look so
bored; go you must."
"Go, nonsense! Why should I go?" said Mark, in no mood for trifling. "I
don't know this lady."
"I told you that I had recorded a solemn vow to bring you, and you've
got to go, willy-nilly," said the major, imperturbably.
"But I've no dress suit," expostulated Mark.
"Dress suit, hear the innocent! Not any, thank you. Why, you stupid,
you'd spoil all in a swallow-tail coat. What the deuce do you suppose
Mrs. V. S. wants of you in black with a white choker? Haven't you sense
enough to see that all she cares is to have the proper complement of
gilt buttons and straps in her rooms? As for you, my bold soldier boy,
you're no account whatever, and she don't just care two pins for your
valorous and gallant self; so be sensible--be sensible. Brush up your
spread-eagles and prepare; but first get sheared, for you look like a
bushwacker with those elf-locks."
The advice was in order, for Mark, in singular contrast with his former
scrupulousness in that respect, had become rather neglectful of his
personal appearance, and his long black hair floating carelessly down
his neck befitted the chief of a band of jay-hawkers better than a
spruce Federal officer. "Bestir yourself, Gil; you haven't much time,"
added the major, as a parting injunction. "I'll call for you at ten."
Ten o'clock came, and with it the major, who found Mark still in the
same attitude, unprepared, and ruefully refilling his pipe.
"Now, Gildersleeve, I'll not stand this," exclaimed the lively major.
"Go you must. When I say a thing I mean it;" and in spite of his
remonstrances the reluctant colonel was borne off to the ball.
Their carriage left them at the carpeted porch of a sumptuous residence
fronting Madison Square, and a domestic directed them to an upper room.
After a little preliminary adjustment of their toilets, they descended
to the parlors, to pay their respects to their host and hostess.
The major presented his friend the colonel to Mrs. Van Spuytenduyvel, a
tall dame with massive shoulders and majestic nose, who returned the
colonel's bow with becoming haughtiness; and to Mr. Van Spuytenduyvel, a
small man, ambushed in the voluminous skirts of his ample consort; and
then the colonel and his friend were permitted to pass on and mingle in
the festal throng. The major soon found an attractive acquaintance among
the ladies, and slipped away, leaving Mark to shift for himself. It was
the first time the colonel had ever attended a fashionable party, and
the brilliancy of the scene and display of jewels and rich dresses
rather dazzled him. A dull pastime, though, for he saw none but strange
faces. He looked about him in the vague hope that perchance he might
meet the one whose image occupied his thoughts; but apparently she was
not present. As he stood staring with an inquisitive and rather
bewildered expression, he attracted no little attention. His three years
of campaigning certainly furnished an example of how thoroughly not only
the mind, but its dial the countenance becomes subdued to what the
former works in. He was now the _beau ideal_ of a dashing trooper:
swarthy and sinewy as an Apache brave, with a decided chin and
glittering eyes. The scar on his brow, too, neither softened his
sternness nor enhanced his good looks, and he found himself the object
of many stares and audible remarks from ladies to their escorts as to
who he was, and whether a "regular" or "volunteer," until, embarrassed
at the notice he attracted, he threaded his way to a corner secure from
observation.
The rooms were excessively crowded, and the atmosphere was heated with
the numerous lights, and heavy with the odors of flowers and perfumes.
Regardless of all this, some determined dancers were dashing along
wildly, and whirling couples carromed like billiard-balls. Mark,
inclined to muse, indulged in mental criticism of the company. What
struck him most was not the weary, solemn mien of the elder guests, nor
the absence of frank joyousness in the young men, but the supercilious
nonchalance and worldly-wise air of the young ladies. Here and there was
a modest flower, but many wore expressions of bold self-possession, that
seemed to his untutored eyes to border on effrontery. Perhaps a harsh
judgment on the part of our captious colonel, but it must be remembered
that he was still but a child of nature, living in the ideal. His poetic
temperament led him to indulge in such exalted fancies of the
excellences of the gentler sex, that when taken from his dreams and
placed face to face with the sophisticated belles of two seasons, he was
naturally discountenanced. To one living outside the pale of fashionable
society, its artificiality is painfully apparent. Presently the
colonel's soldierly eye was attracted by the erect figure of a young
lady, whose back was towards him. Her shoulders and neck were moulded
with such perfect grace, that he was desirous to see her face, and
changing his position to do so, he beheld a radiant beauty, that
recalled a Louis Quatorze marchioness. Powdered hair and a patch
enhanced the fairness of her complexion, while bistred lashes gave an
unnatural brilliancy to her eyes. Her slender throat was encircled by a
diamond necklace, whose pendent cross flashed from a breast of snow,
that brought the lines on Pope's Belinda to mind. She was toying with a
fan, and chatting with a group of gentlemen who were evidently admiring
her, and her beautiful simpering countenance betrayed gratified vanity.
Mark scrutinized her closely. Recollections of familiar features arose,
and the truth flashed to him that this young person was Edna.
But what a change! Not now the sweet, modest rose of Belton, but an
egregiously vain and affected coquette. So thought Mark, in whose
unsophisticated eyes the transformation was complete and manifest. He
watched her a few moments longer. One of her danglers was made supremely
happy by being permitted to button her glove, while another enjoyed the
bliss of holding her bouquet. Then a third, a tight-built little fellow,
with closely-cropped hair accurately parted in the centre of his round
head, a mustache of magnitude, and a crush hat in his hand, gallantly
clasping her, led her off in the mazes of a waltz. It certainly was a
graceful sight; but Mark saw, or fancied he saw, but another phase of
affectation in Edna's posed features and downcast eyes, as she glided
around in evident consciousness of the admiration she excited. With a
pang of disappointment, Mark shrank away, fearing to be noticed by Edna.
He had an undefined dread of being noticed by her there and then, and
very soon after, had bidden adieu to Mrs. Van Spuytenduyvel, and left
the house.
* * * * *
What bitter emotions filled the heart, and what cynical thoughts the
mind, of our impetuous hero that night, it would be difficult to
describe. He imagined he had discovered the cause of Edna's neglect of
him. She was utterly changed. Other thoughts occupied her mind, and
other affections her heart, if she had either, which he was beginning in
his bitterness to doubt. Should he make another attempt to see her? No,
he would not. She was unworthy of further attention. He should return
to his duties at once, and start for the front the very next morning.
Such was his decision before he fell into a feverish, disturbed slumber
towards dawn. But, as usual, the bright sunlight of morning proved a
sedative, and Mark became disposed to be lenient. "Perhaps," thought he,
"I have been unjust to her. She has been left an orphan to the care of
fashionable people. Could she resist--could any young girl resist the
influences of the artificial existence that such people lead? Truth is,
I must confess, that I don't know anything about fashion or fashionable
people or their ways and manners. I've no doubt that I'm all wrong, and
that her heart is all right--that she is as good and kind and candid as
ever. But when I think of the dear little artless darling who used to
coast down the Academy hill at Belton with me, and laugh so ripplingly
when she fell in a snow-bank, and that Pompadour-looking belle playing
her eyes at the host of smirking fools around her, I feel as if I
could--well, well, she's a warm-hearted girl for all that, and has
always been my friend, and I'm a fool" (this was the invariable
conclusion arrived at by the colonel in his self-examinations). "At any
rate," he continued, "I have no right to judge her harshly. I shall call
on her, and her welcome will doubtless efface the disagreeable
impression I have received."