FIGHTING ANGUISH.
Among the last of the guests was Mrs. Lambert, with Ivon and Miss
Spicer. The lady had lost something of her usual graceful repose, and
her eyes shone excitedly under the light of her clustering diamonds.
Ross was speaking in a low voice to Eva when this lady came up to pay
her respects to the hostess. An expression of tender interest was on his
face, and the girl answered it with a grateful smile. The woman’s heart
stopped beating; a deadly faintness seized upon her. For a moment she
went blind; voices greeted her on all sides; she could not move through
a throng like that without pausing every moment to receive the homage of
her satellites. But this evening she passed on, hearing nothing, seeing
nothing but those two faces.
Still the habit of society was upon its queen. Her salutations had their
usual grace, she spoke blandly to the hostess and the host, bent her
head to Ross, and ignored Eva utterly.
The girl blushed, and felt the pain of coming tears, for Ivon Lambert
was with his mother. Would he too repudiate her.
No, the young man bent before her as if she had been a princess, and
would have spoken, but Mrs. Lambert, who leaned on his arm, turned
abruptly away. He felt the shiver that ran through her frame, and saw
the diamonds on her bosom heave and fall, as if she panted for breath.
Others noticed how pale she was, and detected the delicate shade of
rouge, thrown into relief by that pallor—a thing they had never dreamed
of before.
Ivon led the lady to a sofa, around which her friends thronged, full of
anxious inquiries, each concealing a compliment.
“It was nothing,” the lady said, her foot had slipped in getting out of
the carriage, and gave her pain for a moment. That was all.
This really seemed to be true. The lady had a strong will and
indomitable pride. The blood came back to her face fresh and vivid, her
eyes grew bright as stars. She, who seldom went beyond a smile, laughed
now a low, sweet laugh, that penetrated the crowd with an under cadence
that thrilled it. No young girl ever felt the storm of jealousy like
that. The maturity of passion was there, breaking through all power of
concealment.
The crowd did not care to search for the cause of this brilliant
animation, or some one there might have read that proud heart, in all
its fire and pain, and she could not have helped it. As it was, her lips
had never been so eloquent, her figure so gracefully impressive. The
circle around her was lost in admiration.
Miss Spicer seized upon young Lambert in her usual abrupt fashion.
“Come!” she said, “madame has no need of us, she has become a fixed
star, and I’m tired to death of revolving. Mrs. Carter has got to
introduce me to the great genius. Everybody says he is so charming, so
distinguished and inaccessible—none of the girls can get a smile from
him; but I shall, you may bet high on that!”
Ivon suffered himself to be dragged back to the great drawing-room; for
he hoped now to speak with Eva; but just as he reached the place where
she had been standing, Ross led her into the crowd. Miss Spicer saw her
intended prey move off, and began to reproach Ivon.
“There he goes! and that creature on his arm! I wonder if he wants a
shawl tried on. Such innovations! As if the Carters hadn’t enough of a
pull to get themselves into society, but they must attempt to empty
Broadway of its shop-girls!”
By this time Miss Spicer was near the hostess, whom she addressed with
vigor.
“Mrs. Carter, I have got such a quarrel with you. When am I to be
introduced to that brother of yours? Can’t you see that I’m half in love
with him already; a dozen of us quarreling which shall be first—genius
is so uncommon and so enticing. Is it true, Mrs. Carter, that you mean
to give him lots of money? People say so; but that’s of no consequence
to such of us as can afford to do as we please—for genius, after all,
isn’t half so common as money. But when am I to be introduced?”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Carter, delighted. “If you had only come a minute
sooner! He just went away with Miss Laurence.”
“Oh, yes! I saw it. That shop-girl—I beg ten thousand pardons! but truth
is truth—has carried him off! Now tell me, how did she happen to get
here? Lots of us girls are dying to know.”
Mrs. Carter drew herself up with some degree of dignity.
“If you speak of Miss Laurence,” she said, “her father was my brother’s
old friend.”
“An old friend? Why, he was nothing but a policeman. I have taken pains
to inquire.”
“Still he was an honest and honorable man.”
“Every inch of him,” said Carter, stoutly. “My roof covers no better man
to-night.”
“As for the young lady,” joined in Mrs. Carter, taking fresh courage,
“she is likely to become nearer to us than a friend. Isn’t that so, Mr.
Carter?”
Carter hesitated a moment, feeling as if his wife had entrapped him into
a premature compliance with her wishes; but he spoke at last, resolutely
enough.
“Yes, Mrs. C., there is no harm in saying that, if Ross stands his
chance for a share of my property, the young lady will enjoy it equally
with him.”
Miss Spicer pursed up her lips till they almost emitted a whistle.
“So, that’s the way the wind blows,” she said. “Wont it be fun to tell
the girls!”
“Miss Spicer, we are keeping Mrs. Carter’s guests from her,” said Ivon,
observing a couple fighting their way through the crowd.
“Just like me, always in somebody’s path!” exclaimed the girl, drawing
back, but still keeping near the hostess. “Mercy on me! who are those
people? Stupendous! Do look!”