ANOTHER TURN IN THE WALTZ.
The music streamed through the rooms in the soft, yearning, lingering,
passionate, persuasive measures of a waltz. Arthur Merlin had been very
intently watching Hope Wayne, because he saw Abel Newt approaching with
Mrs. Van Kraut, and he wished to catch the first look of Hope upon seeing
him.
Mrs. Bleecker Van Kraut, when she waltzed, was simply a circular
advertisement of the Van Kraut property. Her slow rising and falling
motion displayed the family jewels to the utmost advantage. The same
insolent smoothness and finish prevailed in the whole performance. It
was almost as perfect as the Paris toys which you wind up, and which spin
smoothly round upon the table. Abel Newt, conscious master of the dance
and chief of brilliant youth, waltzed with an air of delicate deference
toward his partner, and, gay defiance toward the rest of the world.
The performance was so novel and so well executed that the ball instantly
became a spectacle of which Abel and Mrs. Van Kraut were the central
figures. The crowd pressed around them, and Abel gently pushed them back
in his fluctuating circles. Short ladies in the back-ground stood upon
chairs for a moment to get a better view; while Mrs. Dagon and Mrs. Orry,
whom no dexterous waltzer would ever clasp in the dizzy whirl, spattered
their neighborhood with epithets of contempt and indignation, thanking
Heaven that in their day things had not quite come to such a pass as
that. Colonel Burr himself, my dears, never dared to touch more than
the tips of his partner's fingers in the contra-dance.
Hope Wayne had not met Abel Newt since they had parted after the runaway
at Delafield, except in his mother's conservatory, and when she was
stepping from the carriage. In the mean while she had been learning
every thing at once.
As her eyes fell upon him now she remembered that day upon the lawn
at Pinewood, when he stood suddenly beside her, casting a shadow upon
the page she was reading. The handsome boy had grown into this proud,
gallant, gay young man, surrounded by that social prestige which gives
graceful confidence to the bearing of any man. He knew that Hope had
heard of his social success; but he could not justly estimate its effect
upon her.
Of all those who stood by her Arthur Merlin was the only one who knew
that she had ever known Abel, and Arthur only inferred it from Abel's
resemblance to the sketch of Manfred, which had evidently deeply affected
Hope. Lawrence Newt, who knew Delafield, had wondered if Abel and Hope
had ever met. Perhaps he had a little fear of their meeting, knowing
Abel to be audacious and brilliant, and Hope to be romantic. Perhaps
the anxiety with which he now looked upon the waltz arose from the
apprehension that Hope could not help, at least, fancying such a handsome
fellow. And then--what?
Amy Waring certainly did not know, although Lawrence Newt's eyes seemed
to ask hers the question.
Hope heard the music, and her heart beat time. As she saw Abel
and remembered the days that were no more, for a moment her cheek
flushed--not tumultuously, but gently--and Lawrence Newt and the painter
remarked it. The emotion passed, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes
followed the dancers calmly, with only a little ache in the heart--with
only a vague feeling that she had lived a long, long time.
Abel Newt had not lost Hope Wayne from his attention for a single moment
during the evening; and before the interest in the dance was palled,
before people had begun to buzz again and turn away, while Mrs. Van Kraut
and he were still the spectacle upon which all eyes were directed, he
suddenly whirled his partner toward the spot where Hope Wayne and her
friends were standing, and stopped.
It was no more necessary for Mrs. Van Kraut to fan herself than if
she had been a marble statue. But it is proper to fan one's self when
one has done dancing--so she waved the fan. Besides, it was a Van Kraut
heir-loom. It came from Amsterdam. It was studded with jewels. It was
part of the property.
As for Abel, he turned and bowed profoundly to Miss Wayne. Of course she
knew that people were looking. She bowed as if to a mere acquaintance.
Abel said a few words, signifying nothing, to his partner, then he
remarked to Miss Wayne that he was very glad indeed to meet her again;
that he had not called because he knew she had been making a convent
of her aunt's house--making herself a nun--a Sister of Charity, he did
not doubt, doing good as she always did--making every body in the world
happy, as she could not help doing, and so forth.
Abel rattled on, he did not know why; but he did know that his Uncle
Lawrence, and Amy Waring, and Mr. Merlin heard every thing he said. Hope
looked at him calmly, and listened to the gay cascade of talk.
The music was still playing; Mr. Van Boozenberg spoke to Lawrence
Newt; Amy Waring said that she saw her Aunt Bennet. Would Mr. Merlin
take her to her aunt?--he should return to his worship in one moment. Mr.
Merlin was very gallant, and replied with spirit that when her worship
returned--here he made a low bow--his would. As they moved away Amy
Waring laughed at him, and said that men would compliment as long as--as
women are lovely, interpolated Mr. Merlin. Arthur also wished to know
what speech was good for, if not to say the sweetest things; and so they
were lost to view, still gayly chatting with the pleasant freedom of a
young man and woman who know that they are not in love with each other,
and are perfectly content not to be so, because--whether they know it or
not--they are each in love with somebody else.
This movement had taken place as Abel was finishing his scattering volley
of talk.
"Yes," said he, as he saw that he was not overheard, and sinking his
voice into that tone of tender music which Hope so well remembered--"yes,
making every body in the world happy but one person."
His airy persiflage had not pleased Hope Wayne. The sudden modulation
into sentiment offended her. Before she replied--indeed she had no
intention of replying--the round eyes of Mrs. Van Kraut informed her
partner that she was ready for another turn, and forth they whirled upon
the floor.
"I jes' sez to Mrs. Dagon, you know, ma'am, sez I, I don't like to see a
young man like Mr. Abel Newt, sez I, wasting himself upon married women.
No, sez I, ma'am, when you women have made your market, sez I, you
oughter stan' one side and give the t'others a chance, sez I."
Mr. Van Boozenberg addressed this remark to Lawrence Newt. In the eyes
of the old gentleman it was another instance of imprudence on Abel's part
not to be already engaged to some rich girl.
Lawrence Newt replied by looking round the room as if searching for some
one, and then saying:
"I don't see your daughter, Mrs. Witchet, here to-night, Mr. Van
Boozenberg."
"No," growled the papa, and moved on to talk with Mrs. Dagon.
"My dear Sir," said the Honorable Budlong Dinks, approaching just as
Lawrence Newt finished his remark, and Van Boozenberg, growling,
departed:
"That was an unfortunate observation. You are, perhaps, not aware--"
"Oh! thank you, yes, I am fully aware," replied Lawrence Newt. "But one
thing I do not know."
The Honorable Budlong Dinks bowed with dignity as if he understood Mr.
Newt to compliment him by insinuating that he was the man who knew all
about it, and would immediately enlighten him.
"I do not know why, if a man does a mean and unfeeling, yes, an inhuman
act, it is bad manners to speak of it. Old Van Boozenberg ought to be
sent to the penitentiary for his treatment of his daughter, and we all
know it."
"Yes; but really," replied the Honorable Budlong Dinks, "really--you
know--it would be impossible. Mr. Van Boozenberg is a highly respectable
man--really--we should lapse into chaos," and the honorable gentleman
rubbed his hands with perfect suavity.
"When did we emerge?" asked Lawrence Newt, with such a kindly glimmer in
his eyes, that Mr. Dinks said merely, "really," and moved on, remarking
to General Arcularius Belch, with a diplomatic shrug, that Lawrence Newt
was a very odd man.
"Odd, but not without the coin. He can afford to be odd," replied that
gentleman.
While these little things were said and done, Lawrence moved through the
crowd and somehow found himself at the side of Amy Waring, who was
talking with Fanny Newt.
"You young Napoleon," said Lawrence to his niece as he joined them.
"What do you mean, you droll Uncle Lawrence?" demanded Fanny, her eyes
glittering with inquiry.
"Where's Mrs. Wurmser--I mean Mrs. Dinks?" continued Lawrence. "Why, when
I saw you talking together a little while ago, I could think of nothing
but the young Bonaparte and the old Wurmser."
"You droll Uncle Lawrence, aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
It was an astuter young Napoleon than Uncle Lawrence knew. Even then
and there, in Mrs. Kingfisher's ball-room, had Fanny Newt resolved how
to carry her Mantua by a sudden coup.