"LOVE TOOK UP THE GLASS OF TIME."
"Sister, since I met thee last,
O'er thy brow a change has passed.
In the softness of thine eyes
Deep and still a shadow lies.
From thy voice there thrills a tone
Never to thy childhood known;
Through thy soul a storm has moved;
Gentle sister, thou hast loved!"--HEMANS.
It was the fourth day of March, and Washington was full of strangers
drawn thither to witness the Inauguration ceremonies attendant upon the
new president taking the oath of office as ruler of the nation.
But nature had frowned on everything that day, and from early dawn till
midnight her tears poured in torrents upon the vast throngs that surged
ceaselessly through the magnificent broad avenues of the beautiful
city. The wind raged wildly, and the rain fell in sheets, as though
"The heart of heaven were breaking
In tears o'er the fallen earth."
Along the route of the procession, from the White House to the Capitol,
Pennsylvania avenue was packed with a dense mass of people, upon whose
forest of umbrellas the magnificent decorations of flags and bunting
overhead dripped red and blue ink as they hung forlornly over the
scene. The windows of the houses were filled with curious faces and the
grand stands erected here and there for the sightseers were occupied,
too, in spite of the weather, for no one seemed to have stayed indoors
for fear of the elements. Hundreds of thousands of people seemed to be
packed upon the pavements, jostling each other with their umbrellas,
and patronizing the busy fakirs who peddled presidential badges and
photographs, while ever and anon rose the plaintive call of the
diligent vender of Philadelphia cough drops. Altogether the day was
dismal in the extreme. The drenched people looked ridiculous, and the
glory of the procession was considerably dampened from the same cause.
But the day with its stormy skies, its surging throngs, and fitful
enthusiasm was over now. The new president was installed in the White
House, the old president was deposed. "_Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!_"
Still Nature wept tumultuously, for with nightfall the storm increased
in violence. Black, portentous clouds scurried over the face of the
sky, and sheets of icy cold rain poured upon the earth.
But all this downpour did not check the ardor of the tens of thousands
of people who flocked to the Inauguration Ball in the immense new
Pension building. The avenues were thronged with carriages, and they
literally blocked the square around the building, while within all was
like fairy-land with splendid decorations, brilliant lights, black
coats of civilians, gay uniforms of soldiers, brilliant costumes of
foreign legations, and lovely women whose magnificent jewels radiated
fire, while over all rose the swell of music. The new president was
there with his family, and willful Precious Winans had duly made his
acquaintance, the honor she had so much coveted.
And beautiful, passionate Ethel, with her flashing eyes and her proud
smile?
Since we first met her several weeks ago a change has come over this
reckless spirit.
The passion of love has thrown its golden glamour over her heart.
At a brilliant entertainment ten days ago she had met a stranger, an
Englishman of rank and wealth, who was just now being lionized by
American society.
Lord Chester was young, handsome, fascinating, and caused many a
flutter in feminine hearts, but he soon singled out the brilliant
belle, Miss Winans, as the bright particular star of his worship, and
it was soon suspected that the girl, whose conquests had been legion in
her two successful seasons, had been touched at last by Cupid's arrows.
Society began to prophesy a match.
Ethel was radiant in the bliss of this dawning passion.
She foresaw, in a worshiping love and a brilliant marriage, an escape
from the life that her jealous nature made at times unendurable.
"As Lady Chester I should leave my father's house, where Precious has
supplanted me in all my rights. In my grand English home I should reign
queen of my husband's heart, and in time the wounds of slighted love in
my father's home might heal and be forgotten," she thought gladly, and
there was triumph in the anticipation of this brilliant match, for she
did not believe Precious could ever win a title, in spite of her charms.
"She is lovely, but she is not queenly, as I am. She would not grace a
title," she thought proudly.
At the ball that night she wore Lord Chester's flowers, and he hung
over her devotedly, but he had not yet seen Precious. Her mother kept
her resolutely in the background. The senator's entreaties had forced
her to bring her younger daughter, but she was determined that the
girl's presence should not be known any more than could be helped. She
wanted to keep this lovely pearl secluded from society as long as she
could.
So, withdrawn into a flowery alcove with Precious, she scarcely mingled
at all with the surging mass of people whose vast numbers made dancing
quite an impossibility. The senator remained with them part of the
time, but was often called off by friends, and sometimes left them to
mingle with the crowd.
Precious, a perfect picture of beauty in a white Empire silk gown, with
her golden curls all loose over her shoulders, remained demurely by
her mother's side, the radiant light in her blue eyes and the flush on
her cheeks showing how much she enjoyed the brilliant scene.
Suddenly a very distinguished looking man, white-haired, and in the
uniform of some foreign service, with glittering orders on his breast,
caught sight of Mrs. Winans in her secluded alcove, and hastened to
speak to the beautiful lady.
Precious did not care about the old gentleman. She moved back, and
looked another way to escape an introduction.
"Ah, Baron Nugent," cried the lady and for ten minutes he lingered
beside her, then moved on.
"Precious," she cried, looking around, but there was no answer.
Precious had disappeared.
"She is hiding, to tease me," smiled Mrs. Winans, and began to search
for her daughter with a smile on her lips.
But Precious was nowhere to be seen, and she presently grew quite
alarmed.
"She will be lost in this dense crowd. It was very thoughtless in her
to leave my side. I must find her father and send him to search for
her," cried the frightened mother.
But for some time she could not see her husband, or any one else that
she knew.
Suddenly she came upon Ethel and Lord Chester sitting close to a
vine-wreathed pillar, seemingly absorbed in each other. The handsome
young nobleman was leaning over Ethel with an air of devotion that
seemed only the due of her dark and sparkling beauty.
Mrs. Winans gave a little suppressed sob of joy at finding some one
that she knew. She went up to the lovers, and cried tremulously:
"Oh, Ethel, have you seen Precious? She is lost!"
Ethel looked up with a frown at the interruption of her charming
conversation, and answered coldly:
"No, mamma; I thought she was with you."
"She was, but a little while ago Baron Nugent stopped to speak to me,
and when I looked around again Precious had disappeared as completely
as if she had sunk through the floor. She must have strayed into the
crowd, the thoughtless child, and got lost. Oh, if I could find her
father and send him to look for her!"
"I will be very glad to bring him to you, madam," exclaimed Lord
Chester, courteously and he hurried away to seek the senator.
Ethel pouted angrily.
"If you had only stayed where you were, mamma, Precious would have come
back to you directly. You are making a great fuss over nothing," she
declared, and Mrs. Winans trembled at the jealous flash in the large
dark eyes.
"My dear, I am very sorry I interrupted you," she said, in her low,
gentle voice. "But I was so alarmed over Precious I did not think.
Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, but it is just like Precious, raising an
excitement, and spoiling every one's pleasure. She should never have
come," Ethel replied ungraciously.
At that moment Lord Chester came hurrying back with Senator Winans in
tow.
"Oh, Paul, I have lost Precious," his wife cried with a choking sob.
"No, dear, we will find her presently, I'm sure," he said cheerfully,
but with an anxious light in his eyes. Then he explained that while
she was talking to the baron he had beckoned Precious away in order to
present her to a friend of his, a cabinet minister. While they were
all talking they had spied the president leaving, and bidding Precious
remain where she was until he came back her father hurried forward for
a few good-night words with him.
"I am sure I was not absent more than fifteen minutes from her side,
but when I returned she was gone. I supposed she had made her way back
to you, and was searching for you both when I met Lord Chester."
"She never came back. Oh, my darling, where are you? What has become of
you?" moaned the anxious mother, and her lovely, delicate face paled
with fear.
"Do not be alarmed, Grace. I will soon find her for you," her husband
cried, and Lord Chester, eager to be of use, added:
"I will assist you if you will describe your daughter to me."
Senator Winans cried impulsively:
"She is the most beautiful girl you ever saw. Only sixteen, with blue
eyes like velvet pansies, golden curls sweeping to her waist, a white
silk gown, and pearls on her lovely white neck."
A low, muttered word came from Ethel's lips, but they did not catch its
import, and turned away. Only her tearful mother saw the livid pallor
that overspread the beautiful face and the flash of anger in the dark
eyes.