Part 7 (1/2)
”Truly?”
”Truly. I can not read you, Elsin.”
She opened her palm and held her fingers, one by one, frowning in an effort to be just: ”First, I am a fool; second, I am a fool; third, I am a fool; fourth----”
I caught her hand, and she looked at me with a charming laugh.
”I _am_,” she insisted, her hand resting in mine.
”Why?”
”Why, because I--I am in love with Walter Butler--and--and I never liked a man as well as I like you!”
I was astounded. She sighed, slowly shaking her head. ”That is it, you see. Love is very different from having a good time. He is so proud, so sad, so buried in n.o.ble melancholy, so darkly handsome, and all afire with pa.s.sion--which advances him not a whit with me nor commends him to my mercy--only when he stands before me, his dark golden eyes lost in delicious melancholy; then, _then_, Carus, I know that it must be love I feel; but it is not a very cheerful sentiment.” She sighed again, picking up her fan with one hand--I held the other.
”Now, with you--and I have scarce known you a dozen hours--it is so charming, so pleasant and cheerful--and I like you so much, Carus!--oh, the sentiment I entertain for you is far pleasanter than love. Have you ever been in love?”
”I am, Elsin--almost.”
”Almost? Mercy on us! What will the lady say to 'almost'?”
”G.o.d knows,” I said, smiling.
”Good!” she said approvingly; ”leave her in G.o.d's care, and practise on me to perfect your courts.h.i.+p. I like it, really I do. It is strange, too,” she mused, with a tender smile of reminiscence, ”for I have never let Captain Butler so much as touch my hand. But discretion, you see, is love; isn't it? So if I am so indiscreet with you, what harm is there?”
”Are you unhappy away from him?” I asked.
”No, only when with him. He seems to wring my heart--I don't know why, but, oh, I do so pity him!”
”Are you--plighted?”
”Oh, dear me, yes--but secretly. Ah, I should not have told you that!--but there you are, Carus; and I do believe that I could tell you everything I know if our acquaintance endures but twelve more hours. And _that_,” she added, considering me calmly, ”is rather strange, I think.
Don't you?”
Ere I could reply came Sir Peter, talking loudly, protesting that it was a monstrous shame for me to steal away their guest, that I was a villain and all knew it, he himself best of all; and without more ado he tucked her arm under his and marched triumphantly away, leaving me there alone in the deserted room.
But as Elsin gained the door she turned, looking back, and, laying her hand upon her lips, threw me a kiss behind Sir Peter's shoulders.
CHAPTER III
THE COQ D'OR
The days that followed were brilliant links in a fierce sequence of gaiety; and this though the weather was so hot that the very candles in their sconces drooped, dripping their melted wax on egrette and lace, scarlet coat and scarf. A sort of midsummer madness attacked the city; we danced in the hot moonlit nights, we drove at noontide, with the sun flaring in a sky of sapphire, we boated on the Bronx, we galloped out to the lines, escorted by a troop of horse, to see the Continental outposts beyond Tarrytown--so bold they had become, and no ”skinners,”
either, but scouts of Heath, blue dragons if our gla.s.ses lied not, well horsed, newly saddled, holsters of bearskin, musket on thigh, and the July sun a-flas.h.i.+ng on crested helmet and crossed sling-buckles. And how my heart drummed and the red blood leaped in me to beat in neck and temple, at sight of my own comrades! And how I envied them, free to ride erect and proud in the light of day, harnessed for battle, flying no false colors for concealment--all fair and clean and aboveboard! And I a spy!
We were gay, I say, and the town had gone mid-summer mad of its own fancy--a fevered, convulsive reaction from a strain too long endured; and while the outlook for the King was no whit better here, and much worse in the South, yet, as it was not yet desperate, the garrison, the commander, and the Governor made a virtue of necessity, and, rousing from the pent inertia of the dreadful winter and shaking off the lethargy of spring, paced their cage with a restlessness that quickened to a mania for some relief in the mad distraction of folly and frivolity.
And first, Sir Peter gave a ball at our house in honor of Elsin Grey, and we danced in the state drawing-room, and in the hallway, and in the south drawing-room, and Sir Henry walked a minuet with the Hon. Elsin Grey, and I had her to wine and later in a Westchester reel. Too much punch was drunk, iced, which is a deadly thing, and worse still when the foundation is laid in oranged tea! Too many officers, too many women, and all so hot, so suffocating, that the red ran from lip and cheek, streaking the face-powder, and the bare enameled shoulders of the women were frosted with perspiration like dew on wet roses.