CHECK.
During these brilliant days of young bachelorhood Abel, by some curious
chance, had not met Hope Wayne, who was passing the winter in New York
with her Aunt Dinks, and who had hitherto declined all society. It was
well known that she was in town. The beautiful Boston heiress was often
enough the theme of discourse among the youth at Abel's rooms.
"Is she really going to marry that Dinks? Why, the man's a donkey!" said
Corlaer Van Boozenberg.
"And are there no donkeys among your married friends?" inquired Abel,
with the air of a naturalist pursuing his researches.
One day, indeed, as he was passing Stewart's, he saw Hope alighting from
a carriage. He was not alone; and as he passed their eyes met. He bowed
profoundly. She bent her head without speaking, as one acknowledges a
slight acquaintance. It was not a "cut," as Abel said to himself; "not at
all. It was simply ranking me with the herd."
"Who's that stopping to speak with her?" asked Corlaer, as he turned back
to see her.
"That's Arthur Merlin. Don't you know? He's a painter. I wonder how the
deuce he came to know her!"
In fact, it was the painter. It was the first time he had met her
since the summer days of Saratoga; and as he stood talking with her
upon the sidewalk, and observed that her cheeks had an unusual flush,
and her manner a slight excitement, he could not help feeling a secret
pleasure--feeling, in truth, so deep a delight, as he looked into that
lovely face, that he found himself reflecting, as he walked away, how
very fortunate it was that he was so entirely devoted to his art. It
is very fortunate indeed, thought he. And yet it might be a pity, too,
if I should chance to meet some beautiful and sympathetic woman; because,
being so utterly in love with my art, it would be impossible for me to
fall in love with her! Quite impossible! Quite out of the question!
Just as he thought this he bumped against some one, and looked up
suddenly. A calm, half-amused face met his glance, as Arthur said,
hastily, "I beg your pardon."
"My pardon is granted," returned the gentleman; "but still you had better
look out for yourself."
"Oh! I shall not hit any body else," said Arthur, as he bowed and was
passing on.
"I am not speaking of other people," replied the other, with a look which
was very, friendly, but very puzzling.
"Whom do you mean, then?" asked Arthur Merlin.
"Yourself, of course," said the gentleman with the half-amused face.
"How?" inquired Arthur.
"To guard against Venus rising from the fickle sea, or Hope descending
from a carriage," rejoined his companion, putting out his hand.
Arthur looked surprised, and, could he have resisted the face of his new
acquaintance, he would have added indignation to his expression. But it
was impossible.
"To whom do I owe such excellent advice?"
"To Lawrence Newt," answered that gentleman, putting out his hand. "I am
glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Arthur Merlin."
The painter shook the merchant's hand cordially. They had some further
conversation, and finally Mr. Merlin turned, and the two men strolled
together down town. While they yet talked, Lawrence Newt observed that
the eyes of his companion studied every carriage that passed. He did it
in a very natural, artless way; but Lawrence Newt smiled with his eyes,
and at length said, as if Arthur had asked him the question, "There she
comes!"
Arthur was a little bit annoyed, and said, suddenly, and with a fine air
of surprise, "Who?"
Lawrence turned and looked him full in the face; upon which the painter,
who was so fanatically devoted to his art that it was clearly impossible
he should fall in love, said, "Oh!" as if somebody had answered his
question.
The next moment both gentlemen bowed to Hope Wayne, who passed with Mrs.
Dinks in her carriage.
"Who are those gentlemen to whom you are bowing, Hope?" Mrs. Dinks asked,
as she saw her niece lean forward and blush as she bowed.
"Mr. Merlin and Mr. Lawrence Newt," replied Hope.
"Oh, I did not observe."
After a while she said, "Don't you think, Hope, you could make up your
mind to go to Mrs. Kingfisher's ball next week? You know you haven't been
out at all."
"Perhaps," replied Hope, doubtfully.
"Just as you please, dear. I think it is quite as well to stay away if
you want to. Your retirement is very natural, and proper, and beautiful,
under the circumstances, although it is unusual. Of course I don't fully
understand. But I have perfect confidence in the justice of your
reasons."
Mrs. Dinks looked at Hope tenderly and sagaciously as she said this, and
smiled meaningly.
Hope was entirely bewildered. Then a sudden apprehension shot through her
mind as she thought of what her aunt had said. She asked suddenly and a
little proudly,
"What do you mean by 'circumstances,' aunt?"
Mrs. Dinks was uneasy in her turn. But she pushed bravely on, and said
kindly,
"Why on earth shouldn't I know why you are unwilling to have it known,
Hope? You know I am as still as the grave."
"Have what known, aunt?" asked Hope.
"Why, dear," replied Mrs. Dinks, confused by Hope's air of innocence,
"your engagement, of course."
"My engagement?" said Hope, with a look of utter amazement; "to whom, I
should like to know?"
Mrs. Dinks looked at her for an instant, and asked, in a clear, dry tone:
"Are you not engaged to Alfred?"
Hope Wayne's look of anxious surprise melted into an expression of
intense amusement.
"To Alfred Dinks!" said she, in a slow, incredulous tone, and with her
eyes sparkling with laughter. "Why, my dear aunt?"
Mrs. Dinks was overwhelmed by a sudden consciousness of bitter
disappointment, mingled with an exasperating conviction that she
had been somehow duped. The tone was thick in which she answered.
"What is the meaning of this? Hope, are you deceiving me?"
She knew Hope was not deceiving her as well as she knew that they were
sitting together in the carriage.
Hope's reply was a clear, ringing, irresistible laugh. Then she said,
"It's high time I went to balls, I see. I will go to Mrs. Kingfisher's.
But, dear aunt, have you seriously believed such a story?"
"Do I think my son is a liar?" replied Mrs. Dinks, sardonically.
The laugh faded from Hope's face.
"Did he say so?" asked she.
"Certainly he did."
"Alfred Dinks told you I was engaged to him?"
"Alfred Dinks told me you were engaged to him."
They drove on for some time without speaking.
"What does he mean by using my name in that way?" said Hope, with the
Diana look in her eyes.
"Oh! that you must settle with him," replied the other. "I'm sure I don't
know."
And Field-marshal Mrs. Dinks settled herself back upon the seat and said
no more. Hope Wayne sat silent and erect by her side.