Part 11 (1/2)
”Yes; but I don't mean quite in that way.” And then before the subject could be further pursued the carriage rolled to a standstill in a flood of light from gaping portals, scattering a mob of curious sight-seers intersprinkled with chairmen, footmen, linkmen and all the valetaille that hovers about the functions of the great world.
The carriage door was flung open and the steps let down. A brace of footmen, plump as capons, in gorgeous liveries, bowed powdered heads and proffered scarlet arms to a.s.sist the ladies to alight.
Above in the crowded, s.p.a.cious, colonnaded vestibule at the foot of the great staircase they were met-by Captain Tremayne, who had just arrived with Major Carruthers, both resplendent in full dress, and Captain Marcus Glennie of the Telemachus in blue and gold. Together they ascended the great staircase, lined with chatting groups, and ablaze with uniforms, military, naval and diplomatic, British and Portuguese, to be welcomed above by the Count and Countess of Redondo.
Lady O'Moy's entrance of the ballroom produced the effect to which custom had by now inured her. Soon she found herself the centre of a.s.siduous attentions. Cavalrymen in blue, riflemen in green, scarlet officers of the line regiments, winged light-infantrymen, rakishly pelissed, gold-braided hussars and all the smaller fry of court and camp fluttered insistently about her. It was no novelty to her who had been the recipient of such homage since her first ball five years ago at Dublin Castle, and yet the wine of it had gone ever to her head a little. But to-night she was rather pale and listless, her rose-petal loveliness emphasised thereby perhaps. An unusual air of indifference hung about her as she stood there amid this throng of martial jostlers who craved the honour of a dance and at whom she smiled a thought mechanically over the top of her slowly moving fan.
The first quadrille impended, and the senior service had carried off the prize from under the noses of the landsmen. As she was swept away by Captain Glennie, she came face to face with Tremayne, who was pa.s.sing with Sylvia on his arm. She stopped and tapped his arm with her fan.
”You haven't asked to dance, Ned,” she reproached him.
”With reluctance I abstained.”
”But I don't intend that you shall. I have something to say to you.” He met her glance, and found it oddly serious--most oddly serious for her.
Responding to its entreaty, he murmured a promise in courteous terms of delight at so much honour.
But either he forgot the promise or did not conceive its redemption to be an urgent matter, for the quadrille being done he sauntered through one of the crowded ante-rooms with Miss Armytage and brought her to the cool of a deserted balcony above the garden. Beyond this was the river, agleam with the lights of the British fleet that rode at anchor on its placid bosom.
”Una will be waiting for you,” Miss Armytage reminded him. She was leaning on the sill of the balcony. Standing erect beside her, he considered the graceful profile sharply outlined against a background of gloom by the light from the windows behind them. A heavy curl of her dark hair lay upon a neck as flawlessly white as the rope of pearls that swung from it, with which her fingers were now idly toying. It were difficult to say which most engaged his thoughts: the profile; the lovely line of neck; or the rope of pearls. These latter were of price, such things as it might seldom--and then only by sacrifice--lie within the means of Captain Tremayne to offer to the woman whom he took to wife.
He so lost himself upon that train of thought that she was forced to repeat her reminder.
”Una will be waiting for you, Captain Tremayne.”
”Scarcely as eagerly,” he answered, ”as others will be waiting for you.”
She laughed amusedly, a frank, boyish laugh. ”I thank you for not saying as eagerly as I am waiting for others.”
”Miss Armytage, I have ever cultivated truth.”
”But we are dealing with surmise.”
”Oh, no surmise at all. I speak of what I know.”
”And so do I.” And yet again she repeated: ”Una will be waiting for you.”
He sighed, and stiffened slightly. ”Of course if you insist,” said he, and made ready to reconduct her.
She swung round as if to go, but checked, and looked him frankly in the eyes.
”Why will you for ever be misunderstanding me?” she challenged him.
”Perhaps it is the inevitable result of my overanxiety to understand.”
”Then begin by taking me more literally, and do not read into my words more meaning than I intend to give them. When I say Una is waiting for you, I state a simple fact, not a command that you shall go to her.
Indeed I want first to talk to you.”
”If I might take you literally now--”