Part 19 (2/2)
”Oh, Van,” he cried, ”where have you been keeping yourself? Come with me and have some of the best brandy you ever tasted.”
”Where is it?”
”In Sibley's room. He brought up a couple of bottles of the prime old article, and has invited all his friends to make free with it.”
”I'm not one of his friends.”
”Oh well, you're my friend! What's the odds? A swig of such brandy will do you good, so come along.”
”Come out on the piazza, Stanton. I want to show you something.”
”Can't you wait a few moments? I want to have a whirl in this jolly waltz before it's over.”
”No; then it will be too late. I won't keep you long,” and Stanton reluctantly followed him.
Van Berg understood his friend sufficiently well to know that any ordinary remonstrance would have no influence in his present condition, and so sought to use a little strategy. Taking him to the window of the small private parlor, he showed and explained to him the pretty and quiet scene within.
Stanton's manner changed instantly, and he seemed in no haste to return to the waltz.
”I thought it would strike you as a pretty picture, as it did me,”
remarked Van Berg, quietly; ”and I also thought that after seeing it you would not want any more of Sibley's brandy. It would choke me.”
”You are right, Van. I fear I've taken too much of it already.
I'm glad you showed me this quiet picture--it makes me wish I were a better man.”
”I like that, Ik; I always knew you had plenty of good metal in you.
Now I don't want to be officious, but I would not let a cousin of mine dance with Sibley any longer if I could prevent it without attracting attention. However generous he may have been with his brandy, he has had more than his share himself.”
”Thank you, Van; I understand you. By Jove, I'll try the same tactics with her that you have with me. I'll bring her here and show her a scene that has been to me like a quieting and restraining hand.”
A few moments later the waltz ceased, and Miss Mayhew came out on the cool, dusky piazza, leaning on Sibley's arm. Stanton joined her and said:
”Ida, come with me; I wish to speak with you a moment. Mr. Sibley, please excuse us.”
”Indeed, Mr. Stanton,” said Sibley in tones of maudlin sentiment, ”you are cruel to deprive me of your cousin's society even for a moment. I'll forgive you this once, but never again.” And then he availed himself of the opportunity to pay another visit to his brandy.
”Ida,” said Stanton, ”I want to show you a little picture that has done me good.”
But the young lady was in no mood for pictures or moralizing. Her blood was coursing feverishly through her veins, her spirit had been made reckless by the wilful violence that she was doing her conscience, and also by her deep and growing dissatisfaction with herself, that was like an irritating wound. She was therefore prepared to resent any interruption to the whirl of excitement, which gave her a kind of pleasure in the place of the happiness that was impossible to one in her condition.
”You call that a pretty picture!” she said disdainfully; ”Miss Burton reading a newspaper to two stupid old people who ought to be abed! A more humdrum scene I never saw. Truly, both your breath and your words show that you have been drinking too much. But you need not expect me to share in your tipsy sentiment over Miss Burton. Did Mr. Van Berg ask you to show me this matter-of-fact group which, in his artistic jargon, you call a picture?”
”If he had, he showed you a greater kindness than you deserved.”
”Yes, and a greater one than I asked or wished from him.”
”Then you are going back to dance with Sibley?”
<script>