A GLIMPSE OF FAIRY LAND.
No wonder Mrs. Carter gave voice to her admiration. While she was in her
dressing-room, chandeliers and wax-lights enough to turn night into
noonday, had been kindled down the vista of three splendid rooms,
separated from each other only by rich, flowing draperies of silk and
lace, varying and yet harmonious in their colors, as tints melt into
each other on a sunset cloud.
In the far distance came the soft glow of milky amber, stealing through
transparent under-draperies, and throwing a warm tinge over the pale
sea-green of the middle room. Here all the frescoes were delicate and
subdued. Flowers seemed to have cast their shadows on the ceilings; the
carpets were like snow, in which blossoms, in rich combinations, were
sinking. There all was delicate, artistic and suggestive. Marble Floras,
half the size of life, with one arm full of roses, held back the
draperies which fell tentlike between the rooms. Adown the inner
lace-folds, flowers were so arranged that they seemed floating in frosty
air.
At each window the same effect was produced. At one a crouching Venus
half hid herself in the snow-fall of the curtains; at another, some
dancing-girl peeped roguishly out, as if looking for a partner.
All this revealed by rainbows of light trembling down from the cut-glass
chandeliers, formed a picture which fairly dazzled Eva Laurence, who
stood in the crimson light of the back room, lost and wondering,
herself, unconsciously, the most beautiful object present.
Ross, whose genius had created all this, looked on her smiling. Never
had his rare gifts wrought out greater happiness to himself. It was like
leading this young girl into a paradise of his own creation; one, too,
in which he resolved that she should remain all her life, if it so
pleased her.
Mrs. Carter gave one glance at the rooms, another to make sure that they
were still unoccupied, and flung her arms about Ross, kissing him on
both cheeks.
“Let them search, let them say what they please, they’ll find nothing
like shoddy here,” she said, triumphantly.
Mrs. Carter was right. Never was the union of wealth and genius more
perfect in its work. The guests were taken by surprise. Those who came
with covert sneers, forgot criticism in admiration. Everything was
splendid, everything complete.
A legion of fairies could have devised nothing more perfect. Nor was the
effect diminished when the host and hostess took their places; both were
observant, subdued and careful. Many of their guests had become suddenly
rich like themselves. The war, in its fearful levelization, had given
them plenty of company.
If anything, Mrs. Carter was a little over zealous in her hospitality.
She presented Eva Laurence sometimes more than once to the same guest.
She was rather ostentatious of her brother, but people were prepared to
like him and forgave that.
The crowd grew denser and more brilliant as the evening wore on;
diamonds shamed the light from the chandeliers; the glow of rich colors
became almost oppressive. The crowd scattered itself across the broad
hall and into the rooms beyond. In one there was dancing and such music
as makes the blood leap and thrill in young veins. Another closed in the
supper-tables, where servants were still at work like bees in a
flower-garden. The hum of sweet voices, the chime of suppressed
laughter, the flash of some witty reply gave zest and piquancy to the
scene.
At first Eva was half frightened. She felt like a bird fluttering in a
gilded cage. The scene was unlike anything she had ever witnessed, and
her own share in it seemed like a fraud. More than once she was
presented to the very persons who had commanded her services at the
warerooms. Some of the lace floating around those superb dresses had
passed through her hands. She felt keenly the look of surprise with
which she was occasionally regarded, and wished herself at home.
“What can it mean?” “Is she a relative?” “How strange!” Eva heard these
low-toned observations frequently; her sensitive ear was keenly on the
alert for them. She felt alone in that wilderness of people.