Bryant Van Zandt was as much surprised and displeased as his brother
had expected on the reception of the letter announcing his marriage.
"Eliot had no right to do it. He promised our mother, before she died,
to stay single and care for the girls until they had homes of their
own!" he exclaimed, vexedly, to his wife, to whom he imparted the
shocking news before breaking it to his sisters.
Mrs. Van Zandt was a blonde of the very palest type.
"Her skin it was milk-white,
Her hair it was lint-white,
Bright was the blue of her soft rolling eye."
She was about twenty-eight, but looked younger through her fairness.
She was rather pretty and petite, and, in her tasteful garb of blue and
white, looked like an animated bisque doll.
But her color took a warmer tint than usual just now, and frowning
darkly, she exclaimed:
"It was a shame for Eliot to go and make such a goose of himself. It
would not have been so bad if he had married a girl with money, as you
did, but to go and add another burden to the family is outrageous, I
declare! What ever will the girls say?"
"They will be very angry, I am sure," said the lawyer; but when it was
told to them, they did not make as much ado as their sister-in-law.
They looked grave and sorry, indeed, but Maud, the elder, said,
sensibly:
"It is very bad, but indeed, Bryant, I do not see how Eliot could have
acted otherwise. _Noblesse oblige_, you know."
It was the motto that had ruled the lives of the Van Zandts for
generations, and Bryant could not say one word; but his wife made a
little _moue_ of disdain.
"_Noblesse oblige_ has nothing to do with it," she said; "or, if it
had, it was the other way. He was bound to stay free for your and
Edith's sake."
Pretty Edith answered quickly:
"No, no, for we shall not want him to help pay for our dresses much
longer. Maud's book and my picture are almost done, and if we sell
them, we shall have money of our own."
"_Châteaux en Espagne_!" Mrs. Van Zandt muttered softly, with a covert
sneer.
She had no talent only for looking pretty and dressing well, and envied
that of her more gifted sisters-in-law.
They were used to her sneers, and they winced, but seldom retorted. The
dreamy, dignified Maud looked out of the window with a little sigh, and
the more self-assertive Edith exclaimed:
"There's no use crying over spilled milk, anyhow, and Eliot's married
for good and all. He has as much right to bring his bride home as you
had, Bryant, so we may as well all make the best of it--there!"
"No one disputes his right, Edith, we only deplore his imprudence,"
Bryant answered, flushing. "As for me, I married a woman who would
be no burden upon me, but Eliot candidly owns that he has made a
_mésalliance_."
"Married a pauper and a nobody!" flashed his wife.
"It is no such thing. Let me see his letter. He did not say that!"
cried Edith, angrily.
"Not exactly in those words, but it amounts to the same thing," Bryant
Van Zandt answered. He threw her the letter, and said impatiently:
"Well, you may fight it out among yourselves. I am going down-town."
He put on his hat and went out. Edith and Maud read their brother's
letter together. Its deprecatory, almost pleading tone, touched their
loyal young hearts.
"Poor Eliot, he could not help it. We must not scold," said Edith.
"This old house is big enough for us all, isn't it, Maud?"
"Yes," she answered; but the sweet eyes were grave with trouble as she
fixed them on Mrs. Van Zandt. She burst out suddenly:
"Oh, Sylvie, do not look so glum, please. Of course, we do not like it,
and neither did Eliot, I fancy; but you must see there was no other way
for a Van Zandt, so we must make the best of it."
"Fancy a Van Zandt--one of the Van Zandts, of Boston--bringing home an
A B C school-girl as a bride!" was the disdainful answer she received.
Vivacious Edith cried out tartly:
"You need not take on such airs, Sylvie. You are not so learned
yourself. New York girls never know anything but dressing and flirting."
"We marry into poor, learned families, and so adjust the difference,"
Mrs. Van Zandt replied, sarcastically.
Both the sisters flushed hotly at this coarse rejoinder.
Mrs. Van Zandt had been generous with her money, flinging it about
her with the lavish hand of a spoiled darling of Fortune; but she was
always conscious of its importance, never more so than when twitted
with her execrable French, her questionable time in music, and her
outrageous flirting, that sometimes drove poor Bryant wild with
jealousy.
And so to this household, with its discordant elements, its
supercilious mistress, its dreamy student, Maud, its enthusiastic,
artistic Edith, came Una with her impassioned soul, her shy
sensitiveness, her innocence and ignorance, and her heritage of beauty,
yet branded already "pauper and nobody."
When she saw all those fair young faces grouped in the handsome
drawing-room to meet her, her heart thrilled with timid delight. She
had had so little to do all her life with the young and gay.
All at once, as it were, she was thrown into a house full of young and
handsome people, and it was most pleasant. With pretty confidence,
quite untouched with self-assertion, she received their greetings, kind
on the part of the girls, patronizing on that of Mrs. Van Zandt, and
reserved as regarded Bryant.
It was twilight when they arrived, and a cup of tea awaited them before
the late dinner. Una sipped hers shyly under the fire of the strange
eyes that were steadily taking in her _tout ensemble_, the simple,
tasteful gray dress, the hat with gray feathers that seemed such a
Quakerish setting for the lovely unique face, with its somber, dark
eyes and slender, dark brows, its perfect chiseling, and its aureole of
rich golden hair.
"I shall paint her portrait," Edith whispered, in a stage aside.