Brownie's triumph

“You know who the Douglases are?” began Miss Mehetabel, bracing herself up, with a look of pride.

“Oh, yes; you have always given me to understand that they belonged to a very honorable race.”

“An honorable race, indeed! Why, child, they are the descendants of a queen—a Scottish queen! Lady Margaret Douglas was the daughter of Queen Margaret Tudor, and back to her we can trace our ancestry. Never forget it, child—never forget that you are descended in a direct line from the royalty of Scotland.”

Brownie did not reply to her last remark, for it was a hobby with her proud kinswoman, and once thoroughly started on the subject, she knew the family tree would have to be brought out, and the wearisome task of tracing the Douglas race for three long centuries would have to be rehearsed. So she wisely held her peace.

“Yes, the descendant of a queen!” she repeated; “and many of our ancestors intermarried with the English nobility, so that to-day, Brownie Douglas, there runs no better blood in any veins than in yours and mine.

“Before I left the old country, dear, I mingled with the proudest circles of the land. I was presented at Court, and during a brilliant London season I was introduced to the young Lord of Dunforth, son of the fifth Lord of Firth.

“His name was Royal—they called him Roy—and he was rightly named, for he was fit to be a king!

“From the first hour of our meeting we loved each other, and we were betrothed, by the consent and approval of both his friends and my own, after an acquaintance of six months. Our marriage was to be delayed for a year, until Roy should complete his course at Oxford, when he would come in possession of a fine estate in Essex. We exchanged letters frequently, and the words he penned were like a feast to my soul. I have them now, every one, and they are all that I have left of the love, the glorious love, which I once fondly hoped would brighten my life to its end. In the same circle in which we moved, there was a very handsome girl, by the name of Lady Helen Capel. She belonged to a very wealthy and honorable family, and it was said that before Lord Dunforth was introduced to me he used to pay some attention to her. From the very first of my acquaintance with him she evinced an intense dislike toward me.

“Report said that she wanted to win him for herself, and I believe in my heart that was why she was so haughty and disagreeable whenever we met.

“Lord Dunforth finished his course at Oxford with great honor to himself, and preparations were began for our marriage, which was appointed to take place just before the Christmas holidays.

“One evening we attended a ball given by Helen Capel’s aunt, Lady Ruxley.

“On entering the ballroom I had given my card to Roy to fill out such sets as he wished for himself, and then as others were introduced to me, they put their names in the blanks that were left.

“Soon after, Charles Capel came up with a handsome but rather rakish-looking gentleman, whom he introduced as the Count de Lussan. Roy had left me for a few minutes to speak to some one he knew, or what followed never would have happened.

“The stranger immediately requested the pleasure of dancing with me, and I innocently assented, never for a moment dreaming that any one would be present in Lady Ruxley’s rooms with whom it would not be proper for me to dance.

“I gave him my card, and he put his name down against a waltz, while a peculiar smile curled his lips.

“Not many minutes after Helen Capel sauntered toward me, and sat down by my side.

“For the first time in her life she was gracious to me, and, bearing her no ill-will, I chatted freely with her for quite a while.

“‘Have you danced much?’ she asked, holding out her hand for my card.

“‘Several times,’ I returned, with a smile, as I gave it up to her.

“She ran her eyes hastily over the names, and I could see her scowl every time she read Roy’s. Then, suddenly looking up, she exclaimed, aghast:

“‘Why, Miss Douglas, will his lordship permit you to dance with the Count de Lussan?’

“The form of the question nettled me exceedingly, and I replied, somewhat haughtily:

“‘His lordship will permit me to dance with whomsoever I choose, Miss Capel.’

“She laughed a silvery, wicked laugh, and fixing her bold black eyes upon me, said, in an exasperated way:

“Pardon me, Miss Douglas, but I do not believe Lord Dunforth, who is very arbitrary when once his will is aroused, will permit his betrothed to dance with any one who bears the reputation which Count de Lussan bears.’

“‘But your own brother introduced me to him, Miss Capel!’ I exclaimed, indignantly.

“‘Charles? I’m astonished at him; but I presume the count asked him, and he did not like to refuse. Why, he is a notorious blackleg, and how he ever gained admission here, is more than I can tell.’

“I was startled at this intelligence, but I would not show it before her, nor yield one iota; and looking up at that moment, I saw Lord Dunforth and Count de Lussan both approaching me.

“Miss Capel remained by my side, evidently desirous of seeing the little game played out.

“The count reached me first, and bowing low, offered me his arm, saying his turn had come.

“I glanced nervously into my lover’s face as I hesitatingly took the count’s arm, fearing that all was not right, and my heart stood still, as I noted its expression of blank dismay and stern displeasure.

“He hastened forward, and taking my card, hastily scanned the names upon it, and his brow grew dark with wrath, as he read Count de Lussan’s against a waltz.

“Bowing haughtily to my companion, he said, with compressed lips:

“‘Excuse me, but I must ask you to release this lady from her promise to dance with you.’

“The count’s eyes flashed fire, and his face grew crimson, as he answered, coldly:

“‘I cannot do so, my lord, except at the lady’s own request.’

“‘She does request it through me—by my desire,’ replied Lord Dunforth, sternly.

“‘Miss Douglas, do you command me to release you?’ asked the count, turning to me with that same disagreeable smile upon his lips that I had seen there when he had written his name against the waltz.

“‘Tell him yes, Meta. I cannot allow it, and will give you my reasons the first opportunity,’ whispered my lover, in pleading tones, in my ear.

“I was on the point of yielding. Oh, why was I so blind that I did not? I had half withdrawn my hand from the count’s arm, when I heard a low, mocking laugh near by.

“Glancing up, I saw Helen Capel watching every motion, catching every word and tone, a smile of mocking triumph on her handsome face.

“In an instant I remembered my boast to her, that ‘Lord Dunforth would permit me to dance with whomsoever I chose,’ and in that fatal moment I resolved to show her my power over him; that I had a will of my own.

“Lifting my head a trifle haughtily, I said:

“‘My lord, I have promised Count de Lussan that I will waltz with him, and I cannot break my word.’

“‘Meta, Meta, don’t do it!’ he begged, in a whisper.

“‘I must,’ I answered, coldly.

“‘I command you not!’ he said, in a tone which the count caught, and curled his lip in scorn.

“I bowed coldly, all the antagonism in my nature aroused by his command, then turning to my companion, I said:

“‘The music is inspiriting, count. I am ready,’ and encircling my waist with his arm, he whirled me into the midst of the giddy dancers.

“I had always loved to waltz; but, oh! how I have hated it since then. And this is the reason, dear, why I would never allow you to learn. It is not decent for young girls to be encircled in the arms of men of whom they know nothing.

“As we waltzed I became aware of strange, surprised glances following us; whispered words of censure greeted my ears, and a tremor of uneasiness took possession of me, which merged into absolute terror when I reached the spot where Lord Dunforth still stood.

“He was like a piece of statuary, his noble brow overcast, and his fine lips white and set as if in pain.

“Count de Lussan released me, thanking me for the great pleasure I had given him, and then moved away.

“My lover did not speak one word to me until the music struck up again, and the attention of the people around us was attracted in other directions.

“‘Will you oblige me by withdrawing from the company?’ he asked then.

“I arose at once and took his arm.

“‘Oh, Roy, what have I done?’ I exclaimed, in deep distress at his coldness, my heart thrilling with a terrible pain.

“‘You have disgraced yourself and me—the Count de Lussan is the lowest blackleg in London.’

“I lifted my eyes and searched my lover’s face after those, to me, words of doom. It was as inflexible as marble, not a gleam of love, kindness, or forgiveness. He was like a stern judge pronouncing sentence upon me, and the thought burst like lightning upon me, searing my very soul.

“I had lost him forever! and throwing out my hands toward him, I sank with a low moan of agony at his feet before he could even put forth an arm to save me.”