Part 17 (1/2)

This time he found the young lady at home. As he awaited the return of the domestic who took his card and was about to usher him in, the suspense, the mingled joy and apprehension of meeting, was almost unbearable. He was shown into sumptuous parlors, so filled with paintings and statues that they looked like exhibition rooms, where he found Edna in company with some friends. In a perfectly self-possessed way she came forward to receive him, and she did it so coolly, and introduced him with such an air of indifference to the other visitors present, that poor Mark's heart was chilled. Her appearance, also, surprised and displeased him. She looked, with her fair hair twisted into Medusaean wildness and decorated with broad gold band and dangling sequins; with her delicate ears weighted by Byzantine pendants, and throat circled by a snake-like coil of dead gold,--like an a.s.syrian princess, beautifully barbaric. But her jaded eyes, and pale cheeks bereft of bloom, told of late hours and departing freshness.

Miss Mumbie was there, and attired much in the same way. There were also two gentlemen present.

”I believe you are already acquainted with Captain Gildersleeve, Ada,”

said Edna to Miss Mumbie, who bowed rather distantly in reply. ”Mr.

Jobson--Captain Gildersleeve,” she continued, introducing Mark to one of the gentlemen.

”Captain!” exclaimed Mr. Jobson; ”why, Miss Heath, this is Colonel Gildersleeve. Didn't I meet him last November when I went down to the front to see my brother? Colonel, of course, delighted to meet you.

Don't you recollect Captain Jobson's brother, and the row with your orderly about the shaving brush?”

”Oh, I beg pardon,” said Edna, coloring slightly. ”I've been away so long that I really forgot Mr. Gildersleeve's present rank.”

”Forgot!” returned Jobson, who was a das.h.i.+ng stockbroker, and had all the _brusquerie_ of his cla.s.s; ”why, I thought everybody knew how the colonel got his promotion. Why, Miss Heath, he's one of the best known and most serviceable officers in the army. I heard the commander-in-chief himself speak in the highest and most complimentary terms of him; said he, 'That lame devil of a cavalry colonel on H----'s staff is worth all--'”

”My dear sir,” interrupted Mark, blus.h.i.+ng, and anxious to turn the conversation, though with a secret throb of pleased vanity in his inmost heart, ”I remember you now very well. You came up to City Point the day after our skirmish with Hoke's brigade, when poor Archer was shot and your brother wounded.”

”To be sure I did,” said Jobson; ”and some of you fellows at headquarters--I don't say it was you--gave me some of the vilest whiskey, that nearly cut me in two. Why, Miss Heath--”

But Miss Heath was at that moment engaged with the other gentleman, to whom Mark had not been presented. This gentleman, evidently a foreigner, was seated between the two young ladies, whom he was entertaining with some apparently amusing conversation in a subdued voice. Edna, who was reclining regally in an arm-chair, turned her head languidly to listen when appealed to by Jobson.

”Excuse me; I believe I omitted to introduce you, colonel, to Count Borgia--Colonel Gildersleeve;” and the two men bowed stiffly. She then condescendingly addressed a few words to Mark: ”Have you been to Belton lately? Dull, stupid place, isn't it? So little society, and what there is is so very inferior. Have you heard about those ridiculous people, those _nouveaux riches_, with that horrid name, who have built near Mr.

Mumbie's? Isn't it shameful that such persons are permitted to intrude among respectable people? And they do say Mr. Abbott visits them, and is quite attentive to one of the young ladies. Did you ever hear the like?

Dear me, I don't see how any one can live there now. I do so pity Constance Hull. Poor thing, she makes such a martyr of herself, staying there all alone with the Judge, and he is getting so old, and peevish, and cross. Her brother very seldom goes to Belton, I believe, but Constance will stay in the poky old place.”

”Perhaps she is one of those persons unfortunate enough to have attachments, and who cling to old a.s.sociations,” said Mark, sarcastically.

Edna seemingly did not heed the thrust, but replied carelessly:

”I don't know really, but it must be very stupid for her.”

She spoke with an affected drawl, and drooped her hands from her wrists as a standing dog does its paws. Then turning to the Count, she inquired whether he had been to a certain reception that afternoon, and who were there.

Mark directed his attention to this foreigner, whom he already instinctively disliked. He was a handsome Italian of thirty-five or so, with white teeth gleaming between pulpy red lips partly hidden by a jet mustache with waxed points. He appeared well-bred, spoke English fluently and with very little foreign accent, but minced his words as he displayed his teeth, and smiled so insinuatingly, that Mark's disfavor was intensified at the sight.

The young ladies and the Count began discussing the important subject of a ”German” they had attended the previous evening, subsequently to the party at the Van Spuytenduyvels.

”I'm sure, Miss Mumbie, I am right,” insisted the Count. ”It is exactly as I have said. I did not dance the bouquet figure with Miss Heath; I recollect, with very great distinctness, indeed, that I was leading with the young widow lady, Mrs. Lovett, who has such very charming eyes, and Miss Heath was with--”

”To be sure, Ada, don't you recollect I was dancing with that odious little Herbert Hopper?” said Edna. ”Whenever I go to the Pinkertons, I'm sure to meet him invariably, and he never leaves me, so that I have to endure the pleasure of his company the whole of the evening.”

”I wish I were in the place of that odious little Hopper,” remarked Jobson, gallantly.

”There are others no better,” said Edna; ”as for Herbert Hopper, I must say that he is a perfect little pest, and I do wish he wouldn't annoy me.”

”Say the word, Miss Heath,” said Jobson, ”and I'll slay him.”

”O Miss,” deprecated the Count, with a winning air, ”do not--do not, I pray you, be so severe with the fire of your indignation on the poor boy. It is not his fault. You do not know what he has to contend with.

How can he help it? When we see a parterre of beautiful flowers, do we not all stop and linger around the most beautiful and loveliest of them?” and he added some words in French that caused Edna to smile with evident pleasure, and pout her lips coquettishly.

Mark's feelings underwent a complete revulsion. His bitter disappointment had given place to anger incited by jealousy and the cavalier treatment he had received. Now disenchantment succeeded, and left him very sad. Was it for this he had striven? Where were all those fond illusions and longings, those bright visions of future happiness?

Gone in one brief interview with the enchantress that had conjured them.