Part 4 (1/2)
”And what has Miss Harcourt's visit to Mrs. Duffield to do with George's visit to us?” asked Mrs. Manning.
”A great deal--at least it has a great deal to do with my regret that he should come just now. I told you how I became acquainted with Emma Harcourt in Europe, and what a splendid creature she is. Even in Paris, she bore the palm for wit and beauty--and fas.h.i.+on too--that is in English and American society. But I did not tell you that she received me with such distinguished favor, and evinced so much pretty consciousness at my attentions, that had not her father, having been chosen one of the electors of President and Vice-President, hurried from Paris in order to be in this country in time for his vote, I should probably have been induced to marry her. Her father is in Congress this year, and you see, she no sooner learns that I am here, than she comes to spend part of the winter with a friend in New-York.”
Henry arose at this, walked to a gla.s.s, surveyed his elegant figure, and continuing to cast occasional glances at it as he walked backwards and forwards through the room, resumed the conversation, or rather his own communication.
”All this is very encouraging, doubtless; but Emma Harcourt is so perfectly elegant, so thoroughly refined, that I dread the effect upon her of any _outre_ a.s.sociation--by the by, mother, if I obtain her permission to introduce you to her, you will not wear that brown hat in visiting her--a brown hat is my aversion--it is positively vulgar--but to return to George--how can I introduce him, with his rough, boisterous, Western manner, to this courtly lady?--the very thought chills me”--and Henry Manning s.h.i.+vered--”and yet, how can I avoid it, if we should be engaged?”
With December came the beautiful Emma Harcourt, and Mrs. Duffield's house was thronged with her admirers. Hers was the form and movement of the Huntress Queen rather than of one trained in the halls of fas.h.i.+on.
There was a joyous freedom in her air, her step, her glance, which, had she been less beautiful, less talented, less fortunate in social position or in wealth, would have placed her under the ban of fas.h.i.+on; but, as it was, she commanded fas.h.i.+on, and even Henry Manning, the very slave of conventionalism, had no criticism for her. He had been among the first to call on her, and the blush that flitted across her cheek, the smile that played upon her lips, as he was announced, might well have flattered one even of less vanity.
The very next day, before Henry had had time to improve these symptoms in her favor, on returning home, at five o'clock, to his dinner, he found a stranger in the parlor with his mother. The gentleman arose on his entrance, and he had scarcely time to glance at the tall, manly form, the lofty air, the commanding brow, ere he found himself clasped in his arms, with the exclamation, ”Dear Henry! how rejoiced I am to see you again.”
In George Manning the physical and intellectual man had been developed in rare harmony. He was taller and larger every way than his brother Henry, and the self-reliance which the latter had laboriously attained from the mastery of all conventional rules, was his by virtue of a courageous soul, which held itself above all rules but those prescribed by its own high sense of the right. There was a singular contrast, rendered yet more striking by some points of resemblance, between the pupil of society, and the child of the forest--between the Parisian elegance of Henry, and the proud, free grace of George. His were the step and bearing which we have seen in an Indian chief; but thought had left its impress on his brow, and there was in his countenance that indescribable air of refinement which marks a polished mind. In a very few minutes Henry became reconciled to his brother's arrival, and satisfied with him in all respects but one--his dress. This was of the finest cloth, but made into large, loose trowsers, and a species of hunting-s.h.i.+rt, trimmed with fur, belted around the waist, and descending to the knee, instead of the tight pantaloons and closely fitting body coat prescribed by fas.h.i.+on. The little party lingered long over the table--it was seven o'clock before they arose from it.
”Dear mother,” said George Manning, ”I am sorry to leave you this evening, but I will make you rich amends to-morrow by introducing to you the friend I am going to visit, if you will permit me. Henry, it is so long since I was in New-York that I need some direction in finding my way--must I turn up or down Broadway for Number--, in going from this street?”
”Number--,” exclaimed Henry in surprise; ”you must be mistaken--that is Mrs. Duffield's.”
”Then I am quite right, for it is at Mrs. Duffield's that I expect to meet my friend this evening.”
With some curiosity to know what friend of George could have so completely the _entree_ of the fas.h.i.+onable Mrs. Duffield's house as to make an appointment there, Henry proposed to go with him and show him the way. There was a momentary hesitation in George's manner before he replied, ”Very well, I shall be obliged to you.”
”But--excuse me George--you are not surely going in that dress--this is one of Mrs. Duffield's reception evenings, and, early as it is, you will find company there.”
George laughed as he replied; ”They must take me as I am, Henry. We do not receive our fas.h.i.+ons from Paris at the West.”
Henry almost repented his offer to accompany his brother; but it was too late to withdraw, for George, unconscious of this feeling, had taken his cloak and cap, and was awaiting his escort. As they approached Mrs.
Duffield's house, George, who had hitherto led the conversation, became silent, or answered his brother only in monosyllables, and then not always to the purpose. As they entered the hall, the hats and cloaks displayed there showed that, as Henry supposed, they were not the earliest visitors. George paused for a moment and said, ”You must go in without me, Henry. Show me to a room where there is no company,” he continued, turning to a servant--”and take this card in to Mrs.
Duffield--be sure to give it to Mrs. Duffield herself.”
The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger; and Henry, almost mechanically, obeyed his direction, muttering to himself, ”Free and easy, upon my honor.” He had scarcely entered the usual reception-room and made his bow to Mrs. Duffield, when the servant presented his brother's card. He watched her closely, and saw a smile playing over her lips as her eyes rested on it. She glanced anxiously at Miss Harcourt, and crossing the room to a group in which she stood, she drew her aside.
After a few whispered words, Mrs. Duffield placed the card in Miss Harcourt's hand. A sudden flash of joy irradiated every feature of her beautiful face, and Henry Manning saw that, but for Mrs. Duffield's restraining hand, she would have rushed from the room. Recalled thus to a recollection of others, she looked around her, and her eyes met his.
In an instant, her face was covered with blushes, and she drew back with embarra.s.sed consciousness--almost immediately, however, she raised her head with a proud, bright expression, and though she did not look at Henry Manning, he felt that she was conscious of his observation, as she pa.s.sed with a composed yet joyous step from the room.
Henry Manning was awaking from a dream. It was not a very pleasant awakening, but as his vanity rather than his heart was touched, he was able to conceal his chagrin, and appear as interesting and agreeable as usual. He now expected with some impatience the _denouement_ of the comedy. An hour pa.s.sed away, and Mrs. Duffield's eye began to consult the marble clock on her mantel-piece. The chime for another half-hour rang out; and she left the room and returned in a few minutes, leaning on the arm of George Manning.
”Who is that?--What n.o.ble-looking man is that?” were questions Henry Manning heard from many--from a very few only the exclamation, ”How oddly he is dressed!” Before the evening was over Henry began to feel that he was eclipsed on his own theatre--that George, if not _in the fas.h.i.+on_, was yet more _the fas.h.i.+on_ than he.
Following the proud, happy glance of his brother's eye, a quarter of an hour later, Henry saw Miss Harcourt entering the room in an opposite direction from that in which she had lately come. If this was a _ruse_ on her part to veil the connection between their movements, it was a fruitless caution. None who had seen her before could fail now to observe the softened character of her beauty, and those who saw
”A thousand blus.h.i.+ng apparitions start Into her face”--
whenever his eyes rested on her, could scarcely doubt his influence over her.
The next morning George Manning brought Miss Harcourt to visit his mother; and Mrs. Manning rose greatly in her son Henry's estimation, when he saw the affectionate deference evinced towards her by the proud beauty.