Lord Airlie gazed long and earnestly at the beautiful girl who looked
so utterly unconscious of the admiration she excited.
"I must ask Lady Downham to introduce me," he said to himself,
wondering whether the proud face would smile upon him, and, if she
carried into practice her favorite theory of saying what she thought,
what she would say to him.
Lady Downham smiled when the young earl made his request.
"I have been besieged by gentlemen requesting introductions to Miss
Earle," she said. "Contrary to your general rule, Lord Airlie, you go
with the crowd."
He would have gone anywhere for one word from those perfect lips. Lady
Downham led him to the spot where Beatrice stood, and in a few
courteous words introduced him to her.
Lord Airlie was celebrated for his amiable, pleasing manner. He always
knew what to say and how to say it, but when those magnificent eyes
looked into his own, the young earl stood silent and abashed. In vain
he tried confusedly to utter a few words; his face flushed, and
Beatrice looked at him in wonder.--Could this man gazing so ardently at
her be the impenetrable Lord Airlie?
He managed at length to say something about the beauty of the grounds
and the brightness of the day. Plainly as eyes could speak, hers
asked: Had he nothing to say?
He lingered by her side, charmed and fascinated by her grace; she
talked to Lillian and to Lady Helena; she received the homage offered
to her so unconscious of his presence and his regard that Lord Airlie
was piqued. He was not accustomed to being overlooked.
"Do you never grow tired of flowers and fetes, Miss Earle?" he asked at
length.
"No," replied Beatrice, "I could never grow tired of flowers--who
could? As for fetes, I have seen few, and have liked each one better
than the last."
"Perhaps your life has not been, like mine, spent among them," he said.
"I have lived among flowers," she replied, "but not among fetes; they
have all the charm of novelty for me."
"I should like to enjoy them as you do," he said. "I wish you would
teach me, Miss Earle."
She laughed gayly, and the sound of that laugh, like a sweet, silvery
chime, charmed Lord Airlie still more.
He found out the prettiest pleasure boat, and persuaded Beatrice to let
him row her across the lake. He gathered a beautiful water lily for
her. When they landed, he found out a seat in the prettiest spot and
placed her there.
Her simple, gay manner delighted him. He had never met any one like
her. She did not blush, or look conscious, or receive his attentions
with the half-fluttered sentimental air common to most young ladies of
his acquaintance.
She never appeared to remember that he was Lord Airlie, nor sought by
any artifice to keep him near her. The bright, sunny hours seemed to
pass rapidly as a dream. Long before the day ended, the young earl
said to himself that he had met his fate; that if it took years to win
her he would count them well spent that in all the wide world she was
the wife for him.
Lord Earle was somewhat amused by the solicitude the young nobleman
showed in making his acquaintance and consulting his tastes. After
Lady Downham's fete he called regularly at the house. Lady Helena
liked him, but could hardly decide which of her grandchildren it was
that attracted him.
The fastidious young earl, who had smiled at the idea of love and had
disappointed half the fashionable mothers in Belgravia, found himself a
victim at last.
He was diffident of his own powers, hardly daring to hope that he
should succeed in winning the most beautiful and gifted girl in London.
He was timid in her presence, and took refuge with Lillian.
All fashionable London was taken by surprise when Lord Airlie threw
open his magnificent house, and, under the gracious auspices of his
aunt, Lady Lecomte, issued invitations for a grand ball.
Many were the conjectures, and great was the excitement. Lord Earle
smiled as he showed Lady Helena the cards of invitation.
"Of course you will go," he said. "We have no engagement for that day.
See that the girls look their best, mother."
He felt very proud of his daughters--Lillian, looking so fair and sweet
in her white silk dress and favorite pearls! Beatrice, like a queen,
in a cloud of white lace, with coquettish dashes of crimson. The Earle
diamonds shone in her dark hair, clasped the fair white throat, and
encircled the beautiful arms. A magnificent pomegranate blossom lay in
the bodice of her dress, and she carried a bouquet of white lilies
mixed with scarlet verbena.
The excitement as to the ball had been great. It seemed like a step in
the right direction at last. The great question was, with whom would
Lord Airlie open the ball? Every girl was on the qui vive.
The question was soon decided. When Beatrice Earle entered the room,
Lord Airlie went straight to meet her and solicited her hand for the
first dance. She did not know how much was meant by that one action.
He wondered, as he looked upon her, the queen of the most brilliant
ball of the season, whether she would ever love him if it was within
the bounds of possibility that she should ever care for him. That
evening, for the first time, he touched the proud heart of Beatrice
Earle. On all sides she had heard nothing but praises of Lord Airlie
his wealth, his talents, his handsome person and chivalrous manner.
The ladies were eloquent in praise of their young host. She looked at
him, and for the first time remarked the noble, dignified carriage, the
tall, erect figure, the clear-cut patrician face--not handsome
according to the rules of beauty, but from the truth and honor written
there in nature's plainest hand.
Then she saw--and it struck her with surprise how Lord Airlie, so
courted and run after, sought her out. She saw smiles on friendly
faces, and heard her name mingled with his.
"My dear Miss Earle," said Lady Everton, "you have accomplished
wonders--conquered the unconquerable. I believe every eligible young
lady in London has smiled upon Lord Airlie, and all in vain. What
charm have you used to bring him to your feet?"
"I did not know that he was at my feet," replied Beatrice. "You like
figurative language, Lady Everton."
"You will find I am right," returned lady Everton. "Remember I was the
first to congratulate you."
Beatrice wondered, in a sweet, vague way, if there could be anything in
it. She looked again at Lord Airlie. Surely any one might be proud of
the love of such a man. He caught her glance, and her face flushed.
In a moment he was by her side.
"Miss Earle," he said, eagerly, "you told me the other day you liked
flowers. If you have not been in the conservatory, may I escort you
there?"
She silently accepted his arm, and they went through the magnificent
suite of rooms into the cool, fragrant conservatory.
The pretty fountain in the midst rippled musically, and the lamps
gleamed like pale stars among masses of gorgeous color.
Beatrice was almost bewildered by the profusion of beautiful plants.
Tier upon tier of superb flowers rose until the eye was dazzled by the
varied hues and brightness--delicate white heaths of rare perfection,
flaming azaleas, fuchsias that looked like showers of purple-red wine.
The plant that charmed Beatrice most was one from far-off Indian
climes--delicate, perfumed blossoms, hanging like golden bells from
thick, sheltering green leaves. Miss Earle stood before it, silent in
sheer admiration.
"You like that flower?" said Lord Airlie.
"It is one of the prettiest I ever saw," she replied.
In a moment he gathered the fairest sprays from the precious tree. She
cried out in dismay at the destruction.
"Nay," said Lord Airlie, "if every flower here could be compressed into
one blossom, it would hardly be a fitting offering to you."
She smiled at the very French compliment, and he continued--"I shall
always have a great affection for that tree."
"Why?" she asked, unconsciously.
"Because it has pleased you," he replied.
They stood by the pretty plant, Beatrice touching the golden bells
softly with her fingers. Something of the magic of the scene touched
her. She did not know why the fountain rippled so musically, why the
flowers seemed doubly fair as her young lover talked to her. She had
been loved. She had heard much of love, but she herself had never
known what it really meant. She did not know why, after a time, her
proud, bright eyes drooped, and had never met Lord Airlie's gaze, why
her face flushed and grew pale, why his words woke a new, strange,
beautiful music in her heart--music that never died until--
"I ask for one spray--only one--to keep in memory of this pleasant
hour," said Lord Airlie, after a pause.
She gave him a spray of the delicate golden bells.
"I should like to be curious and rude," he said, "and ask if you ever
gave any one a flower before?"
"No," she replied.
"Then I shall prize this doubly," he assured her.
That evening Lord Airlie placed the golden blossom carefully away. The
time came when he would have parted with any treasure on earth rather
than that.
But his question had suddenly disturbed Beatrice. For a moment her
thoughts flew to the sea shore at Knutsford. The present faded from
her; she saw Hugh Fernely's face as it looked when he offered her the
beautiful lily. The very remembrance of it made her shudder as though
seized with deathly cold--and Lord Airlie saw it.
"You are cold," he said; "how careless I am to keep you standing here!"
He helped her to draw the costly lace shawl around her shoulders, and
Beatrice was quickly herself again, and they returned to the ball room;
but Lord Airlie lingered by Miss Earle.
"You have enjoyed the ball, Beatrice," said Lord Earle, as he bade his
daughters good night.
"I have, indeed, papa," she replied. "This has been the happiest
evening of my life."
"I can guess why," thought Lord Earle, as he kissed the bright face
upraised to him; "there will be no wretched underhand love business
there."
He was not much surprised on the day following when Lord Airlie was the
first morning caller, and the last to leave, not going until Lady
Helena told him that they should all be at the opera that evening and
should perhaps see him there. He regretted that he had promised Lady
Morton his box for the night, when Lady Earle felt herself bound to ask
him to join them in theirs.
All night Beatrice had dreamed of the true, noble face which began to
haunt her. She, usually so regardless of all flattery, remembered
every word Lord Airlie had spoken. Could it be true, as Lady Everton
had said, that he cared for her?
Her lover would have been spared many anxious hours could he have seen
how the golden blossoms were tended and cared for. Long afterward they
were found with the little treasures which young girls guard so
carefully.
When Lord Airlie had taken his departure and Lord Earle found himself
alone with his mother, he turned to her with the happiest look she had
ever seen upon his face.
"That seems to me a settled affair," he said. "Beatrice will make a
grand countess--Lady Airlie of Lynnton. He is the finest young fellow
and the best match in England. Ah, mother, my folly might have been
punished more severely. There will no mesalliance there."
"No," said Lady Earle, "I have no fears for Beatrice; she is too proud
ever to do wrong."