THE QUEEN OF THE BALL.
It was many years since Darrell Court had been so gay. Sir Oswald had
resolved that the ball should be one that should reflect credit on the
giver and the guests. He had ordered a fine band of music and a
magnificent banquet. The grounds were to be illuminated, colored lamps
being placed among the trees; the ball-room was a gorgeous mass of
brilliant bloom--tier after tier of magnificent flowers was ranged along
the walls, white statues gleaming from the bright foliage, and little
fountains here and there sending up their fragrant spray.
Sir Oswald had sent to London for some one to superintend the
decorations; but they were not perfected until Miss Darrell, passing
through, suggested first one alteration, and then another, until the
originators, recognizing her superior artistic judgment and picturesque
taste, deferred to her, and then the decorations became a magnificent
work of art.
Sir Oswald declared himself delighted, and the captain's praises were
unmeasured. Then, and then only, Miss Darrell began to feel some
interest in the ball; her love of beauty was awakened and
pleased--there was something more in the event than the mere
gratification of seeing people dance.
The expected visitors had arrived on the Tuesday--Lady Hampton, radiant
with expected victory; Elinor, silent, thoughtful, and more gentle than
ever, and consequently more pleasing.
Lady Hampton was delighted with the idea of the ball.
"You must make a bold stroke for a husband on that evening, Elinor," she
said. "You shall have a superb dress, and I shall quite expect you to
receive and accept an offer from Sir Oswald."
Elinor Rocheford raised her eyes. There was something wistful in their
expression.
"Oh, aunt," she said, "I like the captain so much better!"
Lady Hampton did not lose her good humor--Elinor was not the first
refractory girl she had brought to her senses.
"Never mind about liking the captain, my dear; that is only natural. He
is not in love with you. I can see through the whole business. If
Darrell Court goes to Miss Darrell, he will marry her. He can marry no
girl without money, because he is, I know, over head and ears in debt.
Major Penryn was speaking of him to-day. The only way to prevent his
marriage with Miss Darrell is for you to take Sir Oswald yourself."
Elinor's face flushed.
Lady Hampton certainly understood the art of evoking the worst feelings.
Jealousy, envy, and dislike stirred faintly in the gentle heart of her
niece.
"I hope you will do your very best to win Sir Oswald's affections,"
continued Lady Hampton, "for I should not like to see Darrell Court fall
into the hands of that proud girl."
"Nor should I," assented Miss Rocheford.
The evening of the ball arrived at last, and Lady Hampton stood like a
fairy godmother in Elinor's dressing-room, superintending the toilet
that was to work such wonders. Lady Hampton herself looked very imposing
in her handsome dress of black velvet and point lace, with diamond
ornaments. Elinor's dress was a triumph of art. Her fresh, fair, gentle
loveliness shone to perfection, aided by her elaborate costume of white
silk and white lace, trimmed with green and silver leaves. The ornaments
were all of silver--both fringe and leaves; the headdress was a green
wreath with silver flowers. Nothing could have been more elegant and
effective. There was a gentle flush on the fair face and a light in the
blue eyes.
"That will do, Elinor," said Lady Hampton, complacently. "Your dress is
perfection. I have no fear now--you will have no rival."
Perhaps Lady Hampton had never disliked Pauline Darrell more than on
that night, for the magnificent beauty of the girl had never been so
apparent. Sir Oswald had given his niece _carte blanche_ in respect to
preparation for the ball, but she had not at first taken sufficient
interest in the matter to send to London, as he wished, for a dress.
Later on she had gone to the large wardrobe, where the treasures
accumulated by the Ladies Darrell lay. Such shining treasures of satin,
velvet, silk, cashmere, and such profusion of laces and ornaments were
there! She selected a superb costume--a magnificent amber brocade,
embroidered with white flowers, gorgeous, beautiful, artistic. It was a
dress that had been made for some former Lady Darrell.
How well it became her! The amber set off her dark beauty as a golden
frame does a rich picture. The dress required but little alteration; it
was cut square, showing the white, stately, graceful neck, and the
sleeves hung after the Grecian fashion, leaving the round, white arms
bare. The light shining upon the dress changed with every movement; it
was as though the girl was enveloped in sunbeams. Every lady present
envied that dress, and pronounced it to be gorgeous beyond comparison.
Pauline's rich curls of dark hair were studded with diamond stars, and a
diamond necklace clasped her white throat--this was Sir Oswald's
present. Her artistic taste had found yet further scope; for she had
enhanced the beauty of her dress by the addition of white daphnes
shrouded in green leaves.
Sir Oswald looked at her in admiration--her magnificent beauty, her
queenly figure, her royal grace and ease of movement, her splendid
costume, all impressed him. From every fold of her shining dress came a
rich, sweet, subtle perfume; her usually pale face had on it an unwonted
flush of delicate rose-leaf color.
"If she would but be like that sweet Elinor!" thought Sir Oswald. "I
could not wish for a more beautiful mistress for Darrell Court."
She stood by his side while he received his guests, and her dignified
ease delighted him.
"Had she been some Eastern queen," he thought, "her eccentricities would
have hurt no one. As it is----" and Sir Oswald concluded his sentence by
a grave shake of the head.
The captain, pleased with Miss Rocheford's graceful loveliness, had been
amusing himself by paying her some very choice compliments, and she was
delighted with them.
"If Sir Oswald were only like him!" she thought; and Aubrey Langton,
meeting the timid, gentle glance, said to himself that he must be
careful--he had no wish to win the girl's heart--he should be quite at a
loss to know what to do with it.
When he saw Pauline his courage almost failed him.
"How am I to ask that magnificent girl to marry me?" he said.
Sir Oswald had expressed a wish that Aubrey and Pauline would open the
ball; it would give people an idea of what he wished, he thought, and
prevent other gentlemen from "turning her head" by paying her any marked
attention. Yet he knew how difficult it would be for any one to win
Pauline's regard. She made no objection when he expressed his wish to
her, but she did not look particularly pleased.
Captain Langton understood the art of dancing better perhaps than the
art of war; he was perfect in it--even Pauline avowed it. With him
dancing was the very poetry of motion. The flowers, the lights, the
sweet, soft music, the fragrance, the silvery sound of laughter, the
fair faces and shining jewels of the ladies, all stirred and warmed
Pauline's imagination; they brought bright and vivid fancies to her, and
touched the poetical beauty-loving soul. A glow came over her face, a
light into her proud, dark eyes, her lips were wreathed in smiles--no
one had ever seen Pauline so beautiful before.
"You enjoy this, do you not?" said Aubrey Langton, as he watched her
beautiful face.
"I shall do so," she replied, "very much indeed;" and at what those
words implied the captain's courage fell to zero.
He saw how many admiring eyes followed her; he knew that all the
gentlemen in the room were envying him his position with Miss Darrell.
He knew that, pretty as some of the girls were, Pauline outshone them as
the sun outshines the stars; and he knew that she was queen of the
_fete_--queen of the ball.
"This is the first time you have met many of the county people, is it
not?" he asked.
She looked round indifferently.
"Yes, it is the first time," she replied.
"Do you admire any of the men? I know how different your taste is from
that of most girls. Is there any one here who has pleased you?"
She laughed.
"I cannot tell," she answered; "you forget this is the first dance. I
have had no opportunity of judging."
"I believe that I am jealous already," he observed.
She looked at him; her dark eyes made his heart beat, they seemed to
look through him.
"You are what?" she asked. "Captain Langton, I do not understand."
He dared not repeat the words.
"I wish," he said, with a deep sigh, "that I had all the talent and all
the wealth in the world."
"For what reason?" she inquired.
"Because you would care for me then."
"Because of your talent and wealth!" she exclaimed. "No, that I should
not."
"But I thought you admired talent so much," he said, in surprise.
"So I do; but mere talent would never command my respect, nor mere
wealth."
"The two together might," he suggested.
"No. You would not understand me, Captain Langton, were I to explain.
Now this dance is over, and I heard you engage Miss Rocheford for the
next."
"And you," he said, gloomily--"what are you going to do?"
"To enjoy myself," she replied; and, from the manner in which her face
brightened when he left her, the captain feared she was pleased to be
quit of him.