Part 1 (2/2)
Mildred Jocelyn knew that all were waiting for her; she instinctively felt the impatience she did not see, and yet could not resist listening to some honeyed nonsense that her ”friend” was saying.
Ostensibly, Vinton Arnold was at her side to turn the leaves of the music, but in reality to feast his eyes on beauty which daily bound him in stronger chains of fascination. Her head drooped under his words, but only as the flowers bend under the dew and rain that give them life. His pa.s.sing compliment was a trifle, but it seemed like the delicate touch to which the subtle electric current responds. From a credulous, joyous heart a crimson tide welled up into her face and neck; she could not repress a smile, though she bowed her head in girlish shame to hide it. Then, as if the light, gay music before her had become the natural expression of her mood, she struck into it with a brilliancy and life that gave even Belle content.
Arnold saw the pleasure his remark had given, and surmised the reason why the effect was so much greater than the apparent cause.
For a moment an answering glow lighted up his pale face, and then, as if remembering something, he sighed deeply; but in the merry life which now filled the apartments a sigh stood little chance of recognition.
The sigh of the master of the house, however, was so deep and his face so clouded with care and anxiety as he turned from it all, that his wife, who at that moment met him, was compelled to note that something was amiss.
”Martin, what is it?” she asked.
He looked for a moment into her troubled blue eyes, and noted how fair, delicate, and girlish she still appeared in her evening dress.
He knew also that the delicacy and refinement of feature were but the reflex of her nature, and, for the first time in his life, he wished that she were a strong, coa.r.s.e woman.
”No matter, f.a.n.n.y, to-night. See that the youngsters have a good time,” and he pa.s.sed hastily out.
”He's worrying about those stupid business matters again,” she said, and the thought seemed to give much relief.
Business matters were masculine, and she was essentially feminine.
Her world was as far removed from finance as her laces from the iron in which her husband dealt.
A little boy of four years of age and a little girl of six, whose tiny form was draped in such gossamer-like fabrics that she seemed more fairy-like than human, were pulling at her dress, eager to enter the mirth-resounding parlors, but afraid to leave her sheltering wing. Mrs. Jocelyn watched the scene from the doorway, where her husband had stood, without his sigh. Her motherly heart sympathized with Belle's abounding life and fun, and her maternal pride was a.s.sured by the budding promise of a beauty which would s.h.i.+ne pre-eminent when the school-girl should become a belle in very truth.
But her eyes rested on Mildred with wistful tenderness. Her own experience enabled her to interpret her daughter's manner, and to understand the ebb and flow of feeling whose cause, as yet, was scarcely recognized by the young girl.
The geniality of Mrs. Jocelyn's smile might well a.s.sure Vinton Arnold that she welcomed his presence at her daughter's side, and yet, for some reason, the frank, cordial greeting in the lady's eyes and manner made him sigh again. He evidently harbored a memory or a thought that did not accord with the scene or the occasion.
Whatever it was it did not prevent him from enjoying to the utmost the pleasure he ever found in the presence of Mildred. In contrast with Belle she had her mother's fairness and delicacy of feature, and her blue eyes were not designed to express the exultation and pride of one of society's flattered favorites. Indeed it was already evident that a glance from Arnold was worth more than the world's homage. And yet it was comically pathetic--as it ever is--to see how the girl tried to hide the ”abundance of her heart.”
”Millie is myself right over again,” thought Mrs. Jocelyn; ”hardly in society before in a fair way to be out of it. Beaux in general have few attractions for her. Belle, however, will lead the young men a chase. If I'm any judge, Mr. Arnold's symptoms are becoming serious. He's just the one of all the world for Millie, and could give her the home which her style of beauty requires--a home in which not a common or coa.r.s.e thing would be visible, but all as dainty as herself. How I would like to furnish her house! But Martin always thinks he's so poor.”
Mrs. Jocelyn soon left the parlor to complete her arrangements for an elegant little supper, and she complacently felt that, whatever might be the tribulations of the great iron firm down town, her small domain was serene with present happiness and bright with promise.
While the vigorous appet.i.tes of the growing boys and girls were disposing of the supper, Arnold and Mildred rather neglected their plates, finding ambrosia in each other's eyes, words, and even intonations. Now that they had the deserted parlor to themselves, Mildred seemed under less constraint.
”It was very nice of you,” she said, ”to come and help me entertain Belle's friends, especially when they are all so young.”
”Yes,” he replied. ”I am a happy monument of self-sacrifice.”
”But not a brazen one,” she added quickly.
”No, nor a bronze one, either,” he said, and a sudden gloom gathered in his large dark eyes.
She had always admired the pallor of his face. ”It set off his superb brown eyes and heavy mustache so finely,” she was accustomed to say. But this evening for some reason she wished that there was a little more bronze on his cheek and decision in his manner. His aristocratic pallor was a trifle too great, and he seemed a little frail to satisfy even her ideal of manhood.
She said, in gentle solicitude, ”You do not look well this spring.
I fear you are not very strong.”
He glanced at her quickly, but in her kindly blue eyes and in every line of her lovely face he saw only friendly regard--perhaps more, for her features were not designed for disguises. After a moment he replied, with a quiet bitterness which both pained and mystified her:
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