THE DÉBUT INTO SOCIETY.
"And so it is to be a regular 'come-out party,'" said Dr. Drayton one
evening as he sat smoking with Mr. Berkley in the library, the rest of
the family being in the parlor.
"Yes, a regular 'come-out party,'" repeated Mr. Berkley; "but I don't
intend to dash out, and make a great spread; hire Papanti's hall, etc. I
don't like that sort of thing. I shall invite enough to fill the house,
and yet not have it a perfect jam; have half-a-dozen pieces of music,
and a good supper; that's my idea of a party."
"And a very correct idea, I should say," said the doctor.
"Mrs. Berkley rather objected to giving it at all this winter. Marion is
still so young, she wanted me to wait another year; but you see, doctor,
I'm pretty proud of my only daughter, and I want her to go about in
society, before I get too old to go with her."
"How old is Miss Marion?" asked Dr. Drayton.
"Eighteen last May."
"Older than Rachel; I thought her younger."
"She looks younger, I think myself, and sometimes seems younger still;
but there's good stuff there. She's like her mother, and if I do say it,
she'll make a noble woman."
"If she proves to be like her mother, she certainly will," replied Dr.
Drayton. "Mrs. Berkley is just my idea of what a wife and mother ought
to be."
"That remark proves you a man of sense and discernment," said Mr.
Berkley, highly gratified, both by Dr. Drayton's words, and the warmth
of his tone. "But about this party; of course you will come, and dance
the 'German.'"
"I certainly agree to come. It will be my first real entrance into
Boston society; but as for dancing, that's quite another thing; I gave
that up years ago."
"Why, man alive!" exclaimed Mr. Berkley; "any one would think, to hear
you talk sometimes, you were a perfect Methuselah! Here, Marion!" he
cried, calling her in from the other room, "I want you to give Dr.
Drayton private lessons in dancing, so that he will be able to get
through the 'German' at your party."
"I am much obliged to Miss Marion," said Dr. Drayton, quietly; "but it
is too late for me to begin now; I must decline her services."
"Perhaps it would be as well if you waited until I offered them,"
replied Marion, haughtily, piqued at the coolness of his manner. "I
certainly had no intentions of becoming a dancing-mistress for you or
any one else!"
The doctor made no reply, but Mr. Berkley laughed aloud, as he
exclaimed: "Look here, Marion, that Thornton has spoiled you! You are so
used to having him consider it an honor to be allowed to pick up your
handkerchief, that you begin to think that every one else must do the
same."
"Papa, how unkind!" said Marion, flushing to the roots of her hair; "I
don't know as Mr. Thornton ever picked up my handkerchief in his life,
and he wouldn't be so foolish as to consider it an honor if he had."
"No?" replied her father, in the most provoking way; "but there,--you
shan't be teased any more! Just turn round, and smile sweetly on the
doctor, and tell him you don't think he's too old to come to your
party, and you'll let him, if he'll promise to be a good boy."
"I don't care whether he comes or not," cried Marion, struggling to get
away from her father.
"If that is the case," said Dr. Drayton, "I shall certainly come, simply
for my own amusement. I didn't know but my presence might be
particularly disagreeable to you; but as you seem so thoroughly
indifferent, I shall come, and look on with the other old folks."
Marion bit her lips, and said nothing; but as her father still held her
hand, so that she could not get away, she seated herself on the arm of
his chair with her face turned towards the fire.
"Doctor," said Mr. Berkley, "why don't you shave off that beard? It
makes you look five years older than you are."
"That is my mask," replied the doctor, stroking his beard with his right
hand; "I could not part with it."
"What, in the name of sense, do you want of a mask?"
"Unluckily for me, my mouth is the telltale feature of my face. I found,
when I first became a surgeon, that my patients could tell by its
expression whether they were to live or die; so I covered it up with
this beard. After I had been at the hospital several years, and had seen
sights that the very telling of them would make you shudder; when I
performed operation after operation without flinching, or even having
the slightest feeling of repugnance, I thought I must have got my mouth
under perfect control, and so ventured to trim my mustache and shave my
beard. That very morning I had to attend a poor fellow who had had his
leg amputated the day before; during the examination I never looked at
him, for I felt his eyes were fixed on my face. Suddenly he exclaimed:
'It's no use, doctor; you can keep your eyes down, but you can't hide
your mouth,--that says death.' It was the truth; mortification had set
in, and he died the next morning. After that I let my beard grow, and so
long as I remain a surgeon, which I shall so long as my hand is steady
enough to guide the knife, it will stay as it is."
"Well, I think you are right," said Mr. Berkley; "but by and by, when
you get a wife, perhaps she will think differently, and the beard, and
the profession too, may have to go. The last, I hear, pays you nothing."
"If ever I get a wife," replied Dr. Drayton, "she will probably think as
I do,--that, as I have been blessed with more than an ample fortune, I
should be a heartless wretch, if I did not devote my skill to the relief
of the suffering poor."
Marion, who had listened silently to the above conversation, finding her
father had released his hold of her hand, slipped quietly away.
The weeks flew past, and the eventful day, when Marion was to make her
dêbut into fashionable society, at last arrived.
Rachel, of course, would not go to the party, as she was still in deep
mourning; but Florence was to stay all night with Marion, and Rachel
went round early with her uncle, that she might see her two friends in
the full splendor of their first ball-dresses. She went directly to the
drawing-room, where she heard the voices of the girls, leaving her uncle
to find his way to the dressing-room.
"Hands off these two pieces of dry-goods!" cried Fred, who was capering
round his sister and Florence, in a perfect state of delight, and all
the glories of his first dress-coat, when Rachel entered the room. "You
may admire as much as you please; but you can't touch 'em with a
ten-foot pole."
"Get out of the way, Fred," said Marion, putting him aside as she went
forward to meet Rachel; "she shall touch me as much as she pleases. How
do you like it, Rachel? Is it just the thing?"
"I should say it certainly was!" exclaimed Rachel, enthusiastically. "I
never saw anything so lovely in my life; and you two look so pretty
together!"
"You see our dresses are made just alike," said Florence, buttoning her
gloves; "only my flowers are pink, and hers white."
The two girls certainly did look lovely. Their dresses were of white
tarlatan, puffed and ruffled sufficiently to be quite à la mode, but
still so light and delicate as to give them a floating, airy appearance,
and not make them look like exaggerated fashion-plates. Marion's was
caught, here and there, with white daisies and delicate grasses, a
wreath of the same in her hair; while Florence's was trimmed with pink
roses and buds.
"May I be allowed to come in at this early hour?" inquired Dr. Drayton,
as he appeared on the threshold.
"Yes, indeed," laughed Marion, advancing to meet him, and stopping in
the centre of the room, to drop him a profound courtesy; "you are my
first arrival."
"And as such claim your acceptance of this bouquet, which I hope you
will honor me by carrying during the evening."
Marion looked up very much surprised, as he held towards her an
exquisite bouquet. He was the last man from whom she would have expected
such an attention.
"I am very sorry, Dr. Drayton, but you see Fred has one in his hand
which I promised a week ago I would carry to-night; but I am just as
much obliged, and will set it on the stand close to where I sit in the
'German.'"
"No, indeed," replied the doctor, without the slightest appearance of
annoyance; "my poor bouquet shall not be so set aside. Mrs. Berkley,
will you honor me?"
"I say, Marion," exclaimed Fred, as Marion took her bouquet from his
hand, "what a pity you promised Thornton you'd carry his! The doctor's
is twice as handsome!"
"So it's Mr. Thornton who has got ahead of me?" said the doctor. "Miss
Florence, I hope I am not to be equally unfortunate with you;" and he
presented her with a beautiful bouquet, which he had until that moment
held behind him.
"Oh, thank you!" cried Florence, perfectly delighted; "you know it's not
my dêbut, and no one else has thought of honoring me; it was very kind
of you. See, Marion, isn't it lovely?"
"Yes, very," replied Marion, as she bent over it, inwardly provoked with
herself for being annoyed because the doctor had not only handed over
her bouquet to her mother with such perfect nonchalance, but had also
brought one for Florence.
* * * * *
But guests were soon seen passing through the hall on their way to the
dressing-rooms, and Rachel was obliged to hurry off; soon the rooms
began to fill, and before long the wonderful "German" was at its height.
The doctor felt himself a stranger in a strange land; he had been
introduced to, and conversed with, several young ladies, but now all
conversation was broken up by the "German," and he stood leaning against
the door-way, and watched the dance as it proceeded. He noticed several
men, much older than himself, dancing with fair young girls; and he
wondered within himself if they were really enjoying themselves, and why
it was that he stood like one shut out from all the pleasures of youth,
young in years but old in feelings; in fact, he was getting a trifle
misanthropical, when Marion floated slowly past him, waltzing with
Arthur Thornton. As they passed, so near that her draperies touched him,
he heard Mr. Thornton say, in a low tone full of meaning, "Marion you
are enough to make a man mad, to-night! You are almost too lovely!"
"So," thought the doctor, as he turned away, "it is all settled. Well, I
supposed as much."
He did not see Marion as she abruptly stopped dancing, and looked at
poor, infatuated Arthur with a frigid glance, which made his heart leap
to his throat, as she said, "Mr. Thornton, you forget yourself; will you
lead me to my seat?"
Poor Arthur! it was his first rash act; he had loved Marion so well, and
tried so hard to conceal it until he was sure of her feelings; but
to-night as he said, she was almost too lovely, and before he had
thought of the consequences he had called her by name and told her so.
It was his first act of tenderness and his last, for now he knew as well
that to her he could never be anything more than a friend, as if she had
refused him point-blank. Poor fellow! it was a hard blow, but he did not
stagger under it; he danced the "German" with as much apparent gayety,
and hid his grief under as bright a smile as ever graced a ball-room.
But though he flattered himself that no one knew the pain he suffered,
there was one, who, although she neither heard his remark, nor Marion's
answer, witnessed the little scene between them, saw the frigid look in
Marion's eyes, and the light die out of his, and her heart ached for the
poor fellow, as only the heart of a young girl can ache, over the
sorrows of a man whose happiness is dearer to her than her own.
* * * * *
The next morning Rachel was in the dining-room, waiting for her uncle to
come to breakfast. She had watered and arranged the plants, and now
stood tapping impatiently on the window-pane, and wondering why he was
so late; but he soon made his appearance, coming in with Mrs. Marston.
"O Uncle Robert!" she exclaimed, "I began to think you were never
coming; don't you know I'm dying to hear about the party?"
"My dear, if I had known you were in such a terrible state of mind and
body," replied her uncle, as he seated himself at the table, "I would
have come down at six; but if you will take the trouble to look at the
clock, you will see it is you who are early, not I who am late."
"Well, never mind that," impatiently replied Rachel; "how did Marion
look?"
"Didn't you see for yourself?"
"Oh! that was before any one had got there, and she was not at all
excited; she's always lovelier then, she has such a beautiful color, and
it makes her eyes handsomer than ever."
"I don't think it's necessary for me to say anything, do you, Mrs.
Marston?" said the doctor, as he calmly stirred his coffee; "just
imagine her as you saw her, only a little excited, and you'll know
exactly how she looked."
"Did she have much attention?"
"You could hardly expect anything else, as the party was at her house."
"Oh! of course people would be polite; but wasn't there anybody
particularly attentive? Didn't she get 'taken out' a great deal?"
"'Taken out?'" repeated the doctor, with a puzzled expression. "Mrs.
Marston, can you enlighten me?"
"Oh, yes!" laughed Mrs. Marston; "that is only one of the mysterious
phrases of the 'German,' which being interpreted means, did a great many
gentlemen ask her to dance?"
"Oh, thank you," replied the doctor. "Yes, Rachel, she got 'taken out' a
great deal; in fact she seemed to be out all the time."
"There! _that's_ what I wanted to know," said Rachel, in a tone of
satisfaction; "now tell me about Florence."
"I'll try to answer you in the most approved style. She looked very
charming indeed; seemed to have plenty of admirers, for I noticed that
Miss Marion managed to have her share her honors, and made her the guest
of the evening; she was 'taken out' a great deal, and above all,
continued to carry my bouquet the whole evening without dropping it."
"I'm so glad," cried Rachel, "but wasn't it a shame that Arthur Thornton
should have sent his bouquet to Marion first?"
"A shame? Why, no indeed," answered her uncle, with the utmost
composure; "for if he had not, she would have been obliged to carry
mine, and I know she preferred Mr. Thornton's."
"I don't believe it; yours was a great deal handsomer."
"Oh! that's not the point! Of course you must see that Mr. Thornton is
to be _the_ man."
"Uncle Robert, how absurd! I don't believe Marion would ever have him in
the world!"
"And why not, I should like to know? He is handsome, intelligent,--in
fact, a very good fellow every way, and has plenty of money."
"But Marion never will marry for money!" cried Rachel.
"I don't say she will; but what is your objection to Mr. Thornton?"
"I haven't any at all; I like him very much, but he would never do for
Marion. She wants a much stronger man than he."
"Well, perhaps he will develop his muscle," replied Dr. Drayton, coolly.
"Uncle Robert! you know I don't mean that kind of strength!--mental
strength; some one in every way superior to herself; in fact, some one
that she could feel was her master."
"Master! I can't imagine Miss Marion yielding her own sweet will to any
one."
"Rachel is right," said Mrs. Marston; "when Marion marries she will
choose a man much older than herself."
"Well, time will show," said Dr. Drayton; "but Rachel, if Marion Berkley
is not engaged to Mr. Thornton at the end of six months, I'll give you
the handsomest diamond ring I can buy at Bigelow's."