Part 38 (1/2)
Neuchamp. He's the son of Captain Telfer of North Sh.o.r.e, and has been away among the islands and n.o.body knows where for ever so long. He married her at Norfolk Island. I believe she is one of those wonderful Pitcairn people that we hear such good accounts of.”
”H'm; he's a young man of distinctly good taste, I must say. I wish my Cavendish had gone to the islands too, if that is the sort of girl they grow there. Mrs. Percival seems to be a great chum of hers. How did that come about?”
”I believe they came back in the _Florentia_ together. Captain Carryall touched at Norfolk Island on the way from Honolulu, and it seems that Mrs. Percival's little boy fell overboard on the voyage, and the girl was into the sea after him like a shot, and swam with him in her arms till the boats came. There was something about a shark too. Mrs.
Percival tells everybody she saved his life. No wonder she raves about her.”
”What a pearl of a girl! No wonder, indeed! And to think of her having a world of courage and fire in her with all that delicacy and beauty. I can't take my eyes off her. The Prince admires her, apparently, too; and she smiles like a pleased child, with as little thought of vanity or harm, I dare swear, as a baby. She ought to be a princess, no doubt of it. So I see it's the last figure. I must go and look up my old friend, Paul Frankston, and make him tell me all about her.”
After the dance and the usual promenade, Mrs. Neuchamp and I recovered our respective spouses, and took the opportunity to make a detour of the ball-room, and even to go through the next apartment, where refreshments were procurable, into the ample gardens. The night was superbly beautiful. The full moon lit up the grove of tropical foliage and richly-flowering plants, the glades carpeted with velvet lawn, the wide sea-plain traversed by s.h.i.+mmering pathways of silver. Below, in the sleeping bay, lay several men-of-war, half in shadow, half illuminated with coloured lamps hanging from their rigging. Gay and mirthful, grave or earnest, the frequent partners pa.s.sed to and fro like shadows of revellers beneath the moon, or turned to the lower paths to gaze at the motionless vessels, the silver sea, the whispering wave. It was an ecstatic experience, a fairy pageant, a supernal revelation of an enchanted landscape.
Miranda pressed my arm. ”Oh, Hilary! how lovely all this is! But you must not laugh at me. Now that I have seen it, I do not think I shall be anxious to follow it up. There is something almost intoxicating about it all. I can imagine it unfitting people for their everyday life.”
We had hardly returned to the ball-room when the glorious strains of the ”Tausend und einer nacht” waltz pealed forth from the band, and hurrying and anxious swains in search of their partners, not always easy to discover in such a crush, were seen in every direction. Instant request was preferred to Miranda by a naval officer high in command, but to my surprise, as we had not spoken on the subject, she graciously, but firmly, declined the honour. He protested, but she quietly repeated her negative: ”I only dance round dances with my husband, Captain Harley!
and, indeed, these not very often.”
He was inclined to be persistent, though most courteous. ”I am sure you used to dance them once. Indeed, I heard such an account of your waltzing, Mrs. Telfer.”
”That was before I was married, Captain Harley!” she replied, with such evident belief that this explanation fully answered every objection that neither the captain nor I could help smiling.
”Look at your friend, Mrs. Neuchamp!” he said, as that dainty matron came gliding past with a military partner, looking like the very impersonation of the waltz, ”and Mrs. Craven, and Mrs. Percival.”
”I am so sorry that I can't comply,” she answered. ”They are quite right to dance waltzes if they please. I do not care for them now, and am only going to have one with Hilary to-night. He is fond of it, I know. I will dance the Lancers with you, if you like.”
”Anything with _you_,” murmured the captain gallantly, as he carefully wrote her name on his card, and departed to secure a partner for the yet unfinished portion of the dance.
”I see by this lovely programme,” she said, ”that there is another waltz, a polka, and then the Lancers, which I used to know very well; and after that I will dance the next waltz with you, Hilary, just to feel what this wonderful floor is like. You are not angry with me for refusing Captain Harley? I really feel as if I _could_ not do it.”
”You can follow your own way, my dear!” I said, ”in this and all minor matters. It concerns you chiefly; and, considering how many husbands think their wives are rather too fond of dancing, I shall certainly not quarrel with mine for not caring for it enough.”
I was not altogether without interest as to this set of Lancers which she had promised to the gallant captain of the _Arethusa_, knowing as I did that the fas.h.i.+on had changed considerably since the Lancers was a decorous, somewhat dull dance, differing from the quadrille only in a more complicated series of evolutions, and, like that very proper performance, affording much opportunity for conversation. Not intending to take part in it myself, and being, indeed, more than sufficiently entertained as a spectator of the novel spectacle, I stationed myself near the ”tops,” one couple of which Miranda's partner elected to be. I saw by the composition of the set, and the looks of some of the youths and maidens who eagerly took their places with their pre-arranged _vis-a-vis_, that the pace would be rapid and the newest variations introduced.
I provided, therefore, for a _contretemps_. My younger sister having professed herself tired with the previous waltz, had declined the invitation of a partner not wholly acceptable as it appeared to me. I therefore persuaded her to walk up with me to a seat near Miranda, so that we, as I explained, might see how she got on.
What I antic.i.p.ated exactly came to pa.s.s. The first few non-committal quadrille steps were got through without unusual display, but when Miranda saw the damsel next to her leaning back as far as she could manage, while her partner swung her round several times, as if he either wished to lift her entirely off her feet, or drag her arms out of the sockets, a look of amazement overspread her features. She stopped with a startled air, commingled with distaste, and saying to her surprised partner, ”I cannot dance like this--I did not know--why did no one tell me?”--walked like a queen to the nearest seat. Now my foresight came in.
Knowing that a girl of nineteen would be willing to dance with a naval officer of the rank and fas.h.i.+on of Captain Harley, if she was ready to drop with fatigue, I said promptly, ”Allow me to introduce you to my sister Captain Harley, who will, I am sure, be happy to take my wife's place;” a look of joyful acquiescence lit up her countenance, and before any serious. .h.i.tch took place in the figure the vacancy was filled.
I fancied that my sister Elinor, who was at the age when girls are not disinclined for a little daring frolic out of pure gladsomeness, performed her part in the figures with somewhat less unreserve after noticing the look of quiet surprise with which Miranda observed some of the more vivacious couples.
We contented ourselves, when the next series of waltzes commenced, with a single dance, which we enjoyed as thoroughly as the perfection of floor, music, and surroundings warranted.
”Oh, what a floor!” said Miranda; ”if I were as fond of dancing as I used to be, I could dance all night; and such music! Quite heavenly, if it is not wicked to say so. And there is the sea, too, with the moonlight on it as in old days! We have been taken to an enchanted castle!
”But there is something different. I can hardly describe my feelings.
Why, I cannot explain, but going back to dancing now for the mere pleasure of it, when I have entered upon the serious duties of life, appears like returning to one's childish pa.s.sion for dolls and playthings.”
”And yet, how many married people of both s.e.xes are dancing now, not with each other either.”
”I see them, and I wonder. I am not surprised at married men dancing--if they like it. If they come at all, they may as well do so as sit down and get weary. But I think the married women should leave the round dances to the girls.”