Part 16 (1/2)
”The principles of Democracy----”
”Oh, sir!” interrupted the Professor, ”the principles are all right; the trouble is in reducing them to practice, for Democracy degrades statesmen into politicians.”
”The trouble is,” said Miss Alida, laughing, ”we want more Dutchmen in office. They have some fixed ideas about religion and politics, and they stick to them like grim death.”
”Dutch again!”
”Yes, sir. And I may tell you that I am thinking of founding a Woman's Holland Society. Have you any idea of the wealth and intelligence united in the Men's Holland Society of New York City? Do you know how they honor their n.o.ble fatherland? They eat, and drink, and make merry; or they interest themselves in preserving a few old relics. But if the Dutch women form a Holland Society, the Dutch men may prepare to give, and to do, or else to take a lower place. The Dutch Women's Holland Society will found schools and orphanages, and look after the sick and the stranger within our gates. They will encourage Dutch talent and Dutch cleanliness; and stand up for the plain, primitive religion.”
”My dear madam! Has the millennium indeed arrived?”
”There is something in the idea, however, Professor?”
”Yes; but we must leave it for future discussion. I have a dear friend waiting for me in your outer vestibule.”
”A dear friend of yours! And waiting for you in the outer vestibule!
Why did you not bring him in? You must have known that he would be welcome.”
”My friend is my dog Sultan; a n.o.ble mastiff, a thorough gentleman, a Republican and Protectionist of the proper sort. He allows no strange dogs to prowl about the place, and grub up his buried bones.
Cats, in his eyes, are unfit to c.u.mber the earth. Cows and other dogs he does not permit even to look over the fence. A dog of worth; and when I come again, I will introduce him to you; but for the present--adieu!”
They sat still a little to praise the Professor, and then the ladies prepared for their afternoon shopping. They were full of antic.i.p.ation, and Adriana was radiant with those pleasant hopes that only stir the heart of youth. Among the silks and laces, the gowns and cloaks and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, they had some happy calculations; and when they left Arnold & Constable's, it was already dusk and cold. They pa.s.sed out of the store quickly, Yanna looking straight before her, and having her m.u.f.f raised slightly towards her face. So neither of them saw the young man who bent eagerly forward from a pa.s.sing hansom, and looked at them with amazement, and yet with an intense interest.
It was Harry Filmer on his way home; and if the driver had not known his home, he would certainly have pa.s.sed it, so astonished was he at what he had seen, and so lost in speculation as to how such a thing could be.
”Whom do you think I met driving with Madame Zabriski this evening as I came home?” he said to his mother and Rose, as soon as an opportunity offered.
”Madame Zabriski's friends are called legion,” answered Mrs. Filmer; ”but I am sure we know no one who is on driving terms with the proud old woman.”
”Nevertheless, it was a great friend of yours, Rose--in fact, it was Yanna Van Hoosen.”
Mrs. Filmer turned round and looked at her son with scornful incredulity. ”The thing is absurd!” she said. ”You have been mistaken.
Miss Van Hoosen has quite a common face.”
”It was Yanna,” persisted Harry, sulkily. ”I should think I know Yanna when I see her. I have good reason to do so. Her face was clear as light against the winter gloom. I can tell you, it gave me a shock.”
”In the Zabriski carriage? I cannot understand it. Was Madame Zabriski with her?”
”I have never seen Madame Zabriski except at the opera. Women look different in their carriage wraps.”
”I am almost certain that I heard, or I read, that she had gone with a party to Florida. You are sure it was Miss Van Hoosen?”
”Positive.”
”Then,” said Rose, ”I think Yanna is acting very strangely. Why has she not written to me? I sent her a long letter last week, and she has not answered it. However, I shall probably see her brother this evening, and he will tell me whatever there is to tell.”
Thus it happened that Antony received a smiling invitation that night into the Filmers' opera box; and that he was translated into the seventh circle of delight by Rose's amiability and preference. To other visitors she was delightfully cordial, but she kept Antony at her side, and treated him with a familiar confidence she gave to no one else. Even Mrs. Filmer was more polite. She had noticed between Antony and her daughter a very intimate and apparently interesting conversation, and she perceived that Rose was much impressed by its tenor; and that she treated her lover with an unusual consideration.
It was therefore likely that something strange had occurred; and she wisely accommodated herself to the mood it had induced.
But there was no conversation on the subject until they were at home.