The servant who answered the bell at that moment, put a stop to Royal
Ainsley's musings.
He had only a few moments to wait in the drawing-room before Miss St.
John appeared.
She looked so lovely in her beautiful ball-dress that his eyes glowed
and his heart beat. Before he had an opportunity to utter the words
that were on his lips, the young girl's mother entered the drawing-room.
She was so gay and bright with him, that the mother wondered vaguely if
she had forgotten the story which she had told concerning him.
The warning glance which she gave her daughter reminded her that she
must act decorously.
The girl was very much in love, and it was easy enough for her to
forgive him for having had another sweetheart.
He accompanied mother and daughter to the grand ball. He was so gay and
so brilliant and so witty, that he charmed the beautiful Miss St. John
more than ever, and he knew by her smiles that his efforts were not in
vain.
Ainsley was the very poetry of motion. It was a dream of delight to
Florence St. John, as they made the round of the magnificent ball-room,
with his arms clasped about her, his handsome face so near her own.
"Come into the conservatory, Florence," he whispered; "I have something
to tell you."
How strange it was the scene and the occasion did not cause him to
remember that _other_ scene and that _other_ girl whom he had once
brought into the conservatory to listen to words of burning love!
"Florence," he whispered, "I have something to tell you. Will you
listen to me?"
"Yes," she said, her heart beating furiously, for, woman-like, she knew
what was coming. The lovely color on her cheeks deepened, the girl's
blue eyes grew luminous and tender.
"Florence," he cried, "how shall I tell you what I have to say? Oh,
Florence, let me tell it quickly, lest my courage fail! I love you,
dear--love you as I have never loved any one in my life before!"
Looking into the dark, handsome face of the young man before her,
Florence St. John saw that she was in the presence of a mighty
passion--a great love.
In an instant he was kneeling by her side, his whole soul in his eyes
and on his lips. It was the very first time in his life that Royal
Ainsley's heart was ever stirred with love.
If Florence St. John had even been poor, he would have cared for her.
He started in first by wanting the girl for her money; it ended by his
wanting her for herself.
He caught the little hand in his that was carrying the beautiful
bouquet of roses he had sent her, and held it tightly.
"Thank Heaven!" he said, "the time has come at last, my beautiful love,
for which I have waited so long. Surely you know what I have to tell
you, Florence!" he said, drawing back and looking at her.
"I haven't the least idea," declared the girl, in whom the spirit of
coquetry was strong. "Really, I do not understand."
"There needs be no understanding, my beautiful love!" he cried. "None!
I have come to tell you in words what I have already told you a hundred
times in a hundred different ways--I love you with all my heart! I love
you! I know no other words. There is none which can tell how dearly or
how much all my heart, my soul, my life goes out in those few words--I
love you!"
His voice died away in a whisper.
"I have a true and serious friendship for you, Mr. Ainsley," she
answered, coyly; "but I--I have never thought of such a thing as love
or marriage."
"Will you think of it _now_?" he answered, eagerly.
He loved her all the more for this sweet, womanly, modest hesitation.
She arose from the seat near the fountain where he had placed her.
"Well, let it rest in that way," she answered. "I'll refer the subject
to mamma; but you are not to say one word of love to me, nor speak to
her about the matter for at least two months."
"Florence, you are cruel," he cried, "to keep me so long in suspense.
Tell me, at least, that if your mother favors my suit, I may hope that
you are not indifferent to me."
But she would not answer him. Her heart beat high, the fever of love
throbbed in her veins; but, like all well-bred young girls, she had
been schooled by early training to make no sign of preference for
any man at his first avowal of affection. As he led her from the
conservatory, past the fountain, the fragrant water-lilies, past the
green palms and the flowering orchids, he gave a terrible start.
In that moment there came to him the memory of Ida May. He was annoyed
by the very thought of her in that hour, and he quickly put it from him.
When they returned to the ball-room, Florence was as sweet as ever; but
neither by word or by sign did she betray any rememberance of the scene
which had just occurred in the conservatory.
He left Florence and her mother at the door of their home an hour
later, but he did not have the opportunity of holding the little white
hand in his for one moment, or of holding even a word of conversation
with her.
"Well," said Mrs. St. John, when she and her daughter found themselves
alone for a moment, "I saw him take you to the conservatory. You were
gone a long time. Did he propose?"
"Yes!" returned the girl, languidly.
"Yes!" echoed Mrs. St. John. "Why, how can you take it so calmly, my
Florence? You accepted him, of course?"
"No," returned the girl, calmly. "I said that I would like to have two
months to consider the matter before the subject was broached to you."
"You are mad, Florence!" cried her mother. "A wealthy young man like
that is not captured every day."
"We are not so poor, mamma, that I should make a god of wealth," said
the girl.
"Oh, certainly not," said her mother; "but I have always been afraid
you would be sought after by some fortune-hunter."