"Mrs. St. John, allow me to present to you Lord Dudley."
Xenie turned with a languid smile and bowed to the tall, elegant
gentleman who bent admiringly before her.
Only ten minutes before Mrs. Egerton had whispered to her eagerly:
"My dear, Lord Dudley, the great English peer, is present. There's a
catch for you."
"I am not looking for a catch," Xenie said, almost bruskly.
"No," said her aunt, who was an indefatigable matchmaker; "but then you
are too young and beautiful to remain always single. You are sure to
marry some day again, and why not Lord Dudley?"
"He has not asked me, aunt," said Xenie, half-smiling, half-provoked. "I
am not even acquainted with him."
"No, but you will be," said Mrs. Egerton. "I heard him asking just now
about you. He said you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen--a
compliment worth having from such a man as Lord Dudley, so elegant and
distinguished, with such an air of culture and travel. Besides, he is so
wealthy, owning several castles in England, I'm told, and a fabulous
bank account."
"A distinguished _parti_, certainly," said Xenie, indifferently, and
then, as her aunt moved away, she completely forgot Lord Dudley's
existence.
She stood leaning carelessly against a tall flower-stand, looking at
the dancers, a little later, when Mrs. Egerton approached, leaning on
the arm of a handsome gentleman, and then she found herself bowing and
smiling in acknowledgement of an introduction to Lord Dudley.
"I have been watching you a long time, Mrs. St. John," he said, taking
his place by her side. "Your face puzzled me."
"Indeed?" she said, raising her dark eyes to him with a kind of languid
wonder.
"Yes, it is true," he said. Then suddenly, as the intoxicating strains
of a waltz began to pulsate on the perfumed air, he exclaimed, in a
different tone: "Will you give me this waltz, Mrs. St. John?"
She assented indifferently, and a moment later she was whirling down the
long room, the envy of every woman at the ball, for every feminine
present had set her cap at the distinguished traveler.
His tall, proud form in the black evening dress showed to the most
perfect advantage, as clasping her _petite_ and graceful form closely in
his arm, they whirled round and round to the enchanting strains,
looking, in the perfect accord and gracefulness with which they moved,
like the spirit of harmony embodied.
"That will be a match," predicted some of the wiseacres around, and
those that did not say that much thought it to themselves.
Among the latter class was a gentleman who had entered a moment before
and now stood talking courteously to the hostess.
It was she who had directed his attention to the handsome pair.
"Look at Xenie," she said with a spice of malicious triumph in her tone.
"That is Lord Dudley with whom she is waltzing. She has quite captivated
him. Doubtless it will be a match."
His eyes followed the flying form a moment steadily, then he answered
calmly:
"They are a handsome pair, certainly, Mrs. Egerton. I am acquainted with
Lord Dudley."
"You met him abroad, I suppose?"
"No, we came over from England in the same----"
But at that moment someone came hastily up and claimed his attention.
Then a little excited group formed around him, and even the waltzers
began to see that an unusual interest was agitating the wall-flowers.
Xenie looked carelessly at first, then more closely as she saw that her
aunt stood in the center of the group.
"Aunt Egerton has suddenly become the center of attraction," she said,
laughingly, to her companion.
Then she started and the room seemed to swim around her, the lights, the
flowers, the black suits of the men, the gay, butterfly robes of the
women seemed to be blending in an inextricable maze.
Her heart seemed beating in her ears, so loudly it sounded.
She had caught a flitting glimpse of a man's form standing just beyond
her aunt. It was he around whom the excited little throng buzzed and
eddied.
He was tall, straight, graceful as a young palm tree, handsome as
Apollo, in his elegant evening dress.
His head, crowned with fair, curling locks, was held aloft with
half-haughty grace; his Grecian profile, clearly-cut as a cameo head,
was turned toward Xenie, and she saw the smile that curved the fair,
mustached lips, the flash in the proud, blue eyes.
For a moment she lost the step, and hung droopingly on her partner's
arm.
"You are tired," he said, stopping and looking down into her
deathly-white face. "Pardon me, I kept you on the floor too long; but
your step was so perfect, the music so entrancing, I forgot myself."
He was leading her to a seat as he spoke. She came back to herself with
a quick start.
"No, do not blame yourself," she answered. "The fact is I am not
accustomed to waltzing of late. This is the first time for almost two
years, and it is so easy to--to grow dizzy--to lose one's head."
"Yes, indeed, it is," he answered. "Shall I get you a glass of water?"
"If you please," she murmured, faintly.
He went away, and she tried to rally from her sudden shock.
By the time he returned she was calm, nonchalantly fanning herself with
a languid, indolent grace. No one but herself knew how hard and fast her
heart was beating yet.
"Thank you," she murmured; then, as she lifted her head, she saw her
aunt coming to her, leaning on the arm of a gentleman.
Lord Dudley stared and exclaimed:
"Heaven! it is Howard Templeton! The sea has given up its dead!"
"Do you know him?" asked Xenie.
"Yes, we crossed together. That is--until the terrible storm that
wrecked us--I was one of the seven that were saved. It was supposed that
Templeton was lost."
"Xenie," said Mrs. Egerton, vivaciously, and yet with a note of warning
in her tones that was distinguishable only to her ears for whom it was
intended, "here is an old friend whom we all thought dead. Bid him
welcome."
Xenie arose, languid, careless, pale as a ghost, yet wearing a gracious
smile for the eyes of the little social world that watched her keenly.
He took the half-extended hand in his a moment, and bowed low over it,
touching it an instant to his mustached lips.
"I kiss the hand that smites me," he murmured in her ear, sarcastically;
then turned aside to greet Lord Dudley.
Fervent congratulations were exchanged between these two, who had been
ocean voyagers together, and who had parted on the deck of the broken
vessel, expecting to meet again only upon the other shore of eternity.
"I am dying of impatience to hear how you were rescued from the horrors
of that terrible shipwreck," said Lord Dudley. "Is the story too long to
tell us to-night?"
"It is a long story, but it may be told in a few words," said Howard. "I
was tossed about for some time, clinging desperately to a slender spar,
then picked up by a blockade runner bound for Cuba.
"This, in turn, was captured by a Spanish war vessel. I remained a
prisoner of Spain until such time as the vessel put into port, and I
reported to our American consul in that country.
"He immediately wrote to America for the necessary papers to prove my
identity as a citizen of America. These being obtained and examined, I
was released, after a tedious delay, and came home as fast as wind and
tide could carry me. There, my lord, you have the whole story in a
nutshell."
"And a very interesting one, too, I doubt not, had it been related in
detail. I heartily rejoice that you were saved to tell it," said Lord
Dudley, with interest.
Then he added, as if some afterthought had suddenly struck him:
"And, Templeton, the lady--who came over in your care--was she also
saved?"
Templeton started, and flashed a hurried glance at Xenie.
She was toying with her jeweled fan, and looking away as carelessly as
if she had forgotten his existence.
He did not know that she was listening intently to every word.
He looked back carelessly at the nobleman.
"Yes, she was rescued with me. We clung to the spar together. I would
have lost my own life rather than that frail and helpless girl should
have perished!"
"She returned with you, then?" said Lord Dudley.
"Yes, she returned in my care. She was a helpless young widow," said
Howard, evasively. "She lost all her friends in Europe."
Then other friends claimed him, and he turned away.
"So Mr. Templeton is an old acquaintance of yours, Mrs. St. John?"
"Yes; he was my late husband's nephew," she answered, with languid
indifference.
He saw that she did not care to pursue the subject.
"It puzzled me when I first saw you to-night that I could not account
for the strange familiarity of your face," he said; "but since I have so
unexpectedly met with my fellow-voyager, Howard Templeton, I distinctly
recall the reason. You are singularly like a lady who traveled in his
care--your very height, your very features; though, as I remember now,
very different in expression. She appeared almost heart-broken; yet she
was very beautiful. I need not tell you that, though, since I have
already said she looks like you," he added, with an admiring bow.
"What was her name?" asked Mrs. St. John, eagerly, quite oblivious of
the delicate compliment.
"I have forgotten it," said Lord Dudley. "Forgetting names is a weakness
of mine. Yet I remember that Templeton called her by her Christian
name--a very soft and sweet one. Let me see--_Laura_, perhaps."
Xenie sat silent and thoughtful. There was a strange pain at her heart.
She could not understand it.
"It cannot be that I am sorry he is living," she said to herself. "My
triumph is greater than if he were dead. He knows that I have my sweet
revenge. It was never sweet until I knew him living to feel its pangs!
For all his haughty bearing it must be that he feels it in all its
bitterness."
Then a sudden irrelevant thought flashed across these
self-congratulations.
"I wonder who that Laura can be? Is he in love with her?"
It was the most natural thought in the world for a woman; yet she put it
away from her with a sort of angry impatience.
"What if he does love her?" she thought, scornfully, "He cannot marry
her. He is a beggar. I have stripped him of everything. She will leave
him for lack of gold, as he left me. Then he may feel something of what
I suffered through his sin!"
And she felt gladder than ever before at the thought of Howard
Templeton's poverty. She knew that he could not marry the girl for whom
he said he would have lost his own life--that beautiful, mysterious
_Laura_.
Mrs. Egerton was passing and she called her.
"I am going home," she said. "I have danced too much. I am tired, and
the rooms are suffocating."
"A multiplicity of excuses," laughed Lord Dudley. "Ossa upon Pelion
piled. Mrs. St. John, you will not be so cruel?"
"I must; my head aches," she replied; and though he pleaded and Mrs.
Egerton protested, she was obstinate.
Mrs. Egerton saw her depart, feeling sorely vexed with her.
Howard Templeton saw her leaving, and crossed the room to her.
"I shall do myself the pleasure of calling upon you to-morrow," he said,
quietly, as he lightly touched her hand.
They had to wear a mask, these two deadly foes, before the curious eyes
of the world.
She flashed a sudden, haughty look of inquiry into his steadfast eyes.
He stooped over her quickly.
"Yes," he whispered, hurriedly and lowly; "it is _vendetta_ still. War
to the knife!"
Then Lord Dudley, full of regrets, attended her to her carriage.