Part 10 (1/2)
”I had not noticed it,” was the answer spoken equivocally.
The supper was somehow worried through. As they were leaving the table Walter Sedger said: ”I have saved the seats of head couple for you, Mrs.
Sanderson; if you will come with me, I will show them to you. I lead alone, but I hope you will permit me to take you out for an occasional extra turn.”
”I shall be delighted,” Marion replied. Sedger gave her his arm, and Duncan, glowering more than ever, was obliged to wander on behind.
The musicians' gallery did not project into the ball-room, but was supported by columns in the hall outside. Just under it an attractive nook had been arranged, with palms and foliage plants, a rug and a divan. The lights were kept low and the palms were so thickly placed as almost to conceal the people who might chance to sit there. At each side of this recess was a door leading into the ball-room, and as Marion and her two companions were pa.s.sing through the one at the right, they met Florence Moreland and Roswell Sanderson coming out.
”I am looking for my fan, Mr. Grahame,” said Florence, stopping. ”Don't you want to help me search for it?”
”Of course I do, and I'll wager I find it,” said Duncan, walking directly toward the nook just described.
”You need not express your disapproval of me so pointedly,” called Florence, protestingly. ”I a.s.sure you it is not in here,” she continued, following him until they were both concealed by the palms.
”A thousand pardons for my blunder,” replied Duncan. ”I thought I saw you coming out of here after one of the dances with Dr. Maccanfrae.”
”I see I must confess my guilt,” answered Florence, smiling; ”but I relied on the protection of his grey hairs.”
”I gather you don't approve of this corner,” replied Duncan. ”At least,”
he continued, looking around, ”you were not so indiscreet as to leave your fan here.”
”I suppose the place has its uses,” she answered laughingly, ”at least the managers think so, if one is to judge by the care bestowed on its arrangement.”
”If I were bold,” Duncan said, as they pa.s.sed out, ”I would say that it is like a fire escape, only to be used on pressing occasions.”
Florence frowned at this atrocious punning, and he added, meekly: ”May I have permission to admire your gown?”
”I am surprised that you like it,” she replied. ”This is its second season.”
”I think it is charming,” he continued. ”But might I inquire if it is ardent affection for each other which prompts you and Mrs. Sanderson to select the same color to-night?”
”It was not a case of affection, but quite an accident,” Florence replied. ”In fact, when Marion saw me coming down-stairs arrayed so like herself, she wanted to make me change my gown, but it was so late that I refused.”
They reached the ball-room door, and there they met Roswell Sanderson with the lost fan, which he had found in the supper-room. Duncan left Florence with Marion's husband and went in search of his partner. He found Marion already in her place for the cotillon and took his seat beside her. A double row of chairs had been arranged around the room, and poor Walter Sedger was flying about trying to make people take their places, so that he might commence his first figure. The one occasion when all intelligence seems to desert the average mortal,--especially if he be a man,--is when he is called upon to dance in a cotillon, and already the leader's difficulties had commenced. When Sedger had succeeded in seating a group in one place, he would turn around and find that people whom he had fairly implored to take their places were wandering across the room, or that others, who were seated in the back row, were having angry controversies with people who had placed their chairs in front of them. All expected Sedger to find them seats, and all insisted upon being in the front row; as there were some eighty couples to dance, and only forty could sit in front, this, to an intelligent mind, would seem an impossible proposition; but not a single one of those one hundred and sixty people seemed to understand it. Finally poor Sedger conceived the brilliant idea of starting the music, and the people who were squabbling over places, fearing they might be left out altogether, scrambled recklessly after seats, and thus the floor was cleared. Sedger was now master of the situation, and soon he was leading a troup of sprawling men through a maze of pretty gowns, in the performance of the intricate evolutions of a cotillon figure.
Duncan, instead of favoring someone, had persuaded Marion to dance the figure through with him. The band played a fantastic polka, and, catching the exciting inspiration of the Hungarian strains, they glided fleetly over the slippery floor. It was no longer the dreamy waltz, but the wild abandon of rapid motion, and as they danced Marion seemed carried away by the exhilarating movement. On, on, they danced, until the music stopped; then Duncan led her quickly out of the ball-room to the nook under the musicians' gallery, where, breathless from the exercise, she sank down on the divan. Duncan, seating himself beside her, rested his arm upon one of the cus.h.i.+ons, and leaned forward so that he could see her face. Her cheeks glowed from the exercise, and there, in the soft light, her large black eyes glistening with excitement, she seemed to Duncan the most glorious creature he had ever seen. Delighted he gazed until Marion raised her eyes and met his eager glance.
”Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
”To say good-by.”
”What do you mean?” she said, with a frightened tone in her voice.
”I mean that I leave to-morrow. I have been called back to the East.”
”Are you glad?” she asked sadly.
”Yes, I am glad,” he replied softly; ”glad to have known you, glad to feel that you exist.”
Wild thoughts flashed impetuously through her mind. ”Why?” she asked.