CHAPTER XXXIX.
MR. AND MRS. SMITH.
The two people were Mr. and Mrs. Smith, she in the glory and amplitude of her moire antique, with the yellow feather in her hair—an addition Kate Gorman had insisted on with spirit, declaring that no mistress of hers was to be put down by them Laurence girls while she was to the fore.
So with her feather all afloat, and her dress sweeping out gorgeously, Mrs. Smith came up and dropped a voluminous curtsy before her old friend, who stooped down, like a queen, and, with both hands, lifted the grocer’s wife out of the depths of her obeisance. Then Carter and Smith shook hands, and said, “How do you do?” with solemn gravity, while their wives dropped into conversation about the children at home; and Miss Spicer hovered near, taking venomous mental notes.
“Oh, my! this is fun alive!” said the young lady. “I only wish your mother had been here to see that curtsy. Wasn’t it sublime? I’ve seen girls making cheeses before this, but a grown woman, and stout at that, is excruciating! Do take me away, Ivon; or I shall do something dreadful!”
Young Lambert gladly led the girl back to his mother, who still occupied her place on the sofa, and had increased her circle of admirers. Miss Spicer took a vacant place by her friend, who was talking brilliantly.
“Oh, Mrs. Lambert, do stop one minute, and hear what I’ve got to tell you,” whispered the young lady, impatient to impart her news.
Mrs. Lambert turned from the gay throng around her and listened.
“He is going to marry her!”
“He? Who?”
The color left Mrs. Lambert’s lips as she asked the question, and a cold shiver ran over her.
“Who? Why Ross, the genius—Mrs. Carter’s brother. He is going to marry that Laurence girl. Mrs. Carter told me so herself.”
“She told you so?”
The woman’s voice was low and hoarse; those who had listened to her a minute before would not have known it.
“Yes, and her husband repeated it; he is going to give them all his money in the end. Isn’t it disgusting!”
“Did they tell you this?”
“Indeed they did. He is with her now. I saw them going toward the dancing-room.”
Mrs. Lambert arose, took the arm of a gentleman nearest her, and moved toward the dancers. She did not speak, could not, in fact, for a band seemed tightening about her throat.
Over the black-walnut floor, with its mosaic border of satin-wood circling the room a yard deep, a maze of dancers were whirling in and out, swaying gracefully to the music, as young trees bend to the wind. Among them was Ross and Eva Laurence, her hand was upon his shoulder, his arm circled her waist, yet scarcely touched it. He was still in the prime of manly beauty, and the girl was loveliness itself. She was dancing with all the spirit and grace of one to whom the exercise was a delightful novelty; and he seemed to feel the glow of her happiness in every nerve of his body. When they rested, he stooped over her lovingly, and smiled as she lifted her eyes to his. If ever exquisite tenderness softened a human face, the woman who watched his so eagerly, saw it there.
Oh! how she hated that girl! With what bitter despair she gazed on the man.
A sort of fascination possessed Mrs. Lambert; she lingered in the room, and seemed absorbed by a scene that had long since ceased to interest her; but her observation was fixed on one couple; she saw every look, watched every motion with a strange gleam in her eyes, and an ominous compression of her lips.
At last the music ceased, and Ross was leading his partner to a seat, when Ivon Lambert came up and claimed her. Then her face changed like a rose suddenly struck by the sunshine; a delicate glow swept over it; her eyes drooped when his hand touched her waist; she leaned toward him as a flower bends on its stalk.
Mrs. Lambert saw this and drew a deep breath. “Youth,” she whispered to herself, “turns to youth. I will not believe it.”
Mrs. Lambert turned and saw that Ross stood beside her. She drew her hand from the gentleman who had led her to the room, bent her head in dismissal, and touched Ross upon the arm.
Did he shrink, or was that a thrill of pleasure that followed her touch? She would have given the world to know. Her hand grew bolder and laid itself on his arm. He yielded to its pressure, and moved away.
In a wing of the mansion was a conservatory full of flowering plants, and lighted with lamps that swung to and fro among the flowers, like mammoth pearls all on fire. Towards this place Mrs. Lambert led her companion.