The Earth Trembled Part 18

"Behave just as a bird flies," said the wise old lady. "If you put on any airs, if you are not your own natural self, I'll shake you when you come home."

The captain saw his child's pleasure, and felt anew the truth of his cousin's words. Ella should be immured no longer. Mara had been invited also, but declined, preferring to spend the evening with Mrs. Bodine.

Mrs. Willoughby's company was not large, and had been selected from various motives. We need mention but one that had influenced her. Miss Ainsley had requested that George Houghton should be invited. Her father and Mr. Houghton had large business interests in common, and at Mr.

Ainsley's request the young man had called upon his daughter. She was pleased with him, although she felt herself to be immeasurably older than he. Mrs. Willoughby had also been favorably impressed by his fine appearance and slightly brusque manner.

"Yes," said the astute Miss Ainsley, as they were talking him over after his departure, "he's a big, handsome, finely educated boy, who would walk through your Southern conventionalities as if they were cobwebs, had he a chance."

"Delightful!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. "If I can keep my drawing-room free from insipidity, I am content. As to his walking through our conventionalities, as you term them, let him try it. If he doesn't b.u.t.t his head against some rather solid walls, I'm mistaken. You don't half know what a bold thing I am doing when I invite old Houghton's son; but then it is just this kind of social temerity that enchants me, and he shall come. I only hope that some good people won't rise up and shake off the dust of their feet."

"Don't worry; you're a privileged character. Mr. Clancy has told me all about it. He admires you immensely because you are so untrammelled."

"He admires you a hundred-fold more. What are you going to do with him?"

"I don't know. I couldn't do anything with him yet. That's his charm. If I didn't know better, I should say he was the coldest--he is not cold at all. The woman who reaches his heart will find a lot of molten lava. I'm often inclined to think it has been reached by some one else, and that his remarkable poise results from a nature fore-armed, or else chilled by a former experience. At any rate, there is a fire smouldering in his nature, and when it breaks out it won't be of the smoky, lurid sort that has so often made me ill. There will be light and heat in plenty."

"Well, you're an odd girl, Caroline. You experiment with men's hearts like an old alchemist, who puts all sorts of substances into his crucible in the hope of finding something that will enrich him."

"And probably, like the old alchemist, I shall never find anything except what, to me, is dross."

Under Mrs. Robertson's wing Ella appeared, and met with a very kindly reception. She had not Miss Ainsley's admirable ease, but she possessed something far better. There was a sweet girlish bloom in addition to her innately refined manner and ingenuous loveliness of face, which made even the experienced belle sigh that she had pa.s.sed by that phase forever. Yet shrewd Ella's eyes were as busy as they were intelligent. She wondered at Miss Ainsley with mingled admiration and distrust, but she had received a sufficient number of hints from Mrs. Bodine to understand her hostess quite well. She saw Clancy enter, and Miss Ainsley's welcome, and quickly observed that there was a sort of free-masonry between them. Then some one appeared who almost took away her breath. It was the stranger to whom she had spoken so unexpectedly, even to herself. She saw that Mr. Clancy, Miss Ainsley, and Mrs. Willoughby greeted him cordially, but that many others appeared surprised and displeased. Little time was given to note more, for the stranger's eyes fell upon her. He instantly turned to his hostess, and evidently asked for an introduction. With a slight sparkle of mischief in her eyes, Mrs. Willoughby complied, and Ella saw the stranger coming toward her as straight and prompt as if he meant to carry her off bodily.

He seemed to ignore every one and everything else in the room, but she was too high-spirited to fall into a panic, or even to be confused. Indeed she found herself growing angry, and was resolving to give him a lesson, when his name was mentioned. Then she was startled, and for an instant confused. This was no other than the son of "that old--Mr. Houghton," as Mrs. Bodine always mentioned him, with a little cough of self-recovery as if she had been on the perilous edge of saying something very unconventional. His father was her father's employer, and the instinctive desire to save her father from trouble led to hesitation in her plan of rebuke and retaliation. Her petty resentment should not lead to any unpleasant complications, and she therefore merely bowed civilly.

Houghton repeated her name as if a victim of momentary surprise himself, and then said with his direct gaze, "I wish to ask ten thousand pardons."

"That is a great many. I shall have to think about granting one."

"If I were you I wouldn't do it," was his next rather brusque remark.

"That is your advice, then?"

"No, indeed. I'm not my own worst enemy. Miss Bodine, circ.u.mlocution is not my forte. I had not walked a block away from you the other day before I charged myself with being a fool and a brute. It took just that long for me to get it into my thick head what your manner and words meant, and I've been in a rage with myself ever since."

"Well," she asked, looking down demurely, "what did they mean?"

"They meant you were a brave girl--that from a chivalric impulse you had drawn near when even men stood a little aloof, as if fearing that if the affair came to blows, they might get a chance one themselves. Your face had the frank expression of a child--how often in fancy I've seen it since!--the words came from your lips almost as a child would speak them.

Now that I see you again I know how true my second thoughts were of you and of myself. I deserve a whipping instead of your pardon."

There was a point yet to be cleared up in Ella's mind, and she remarked coldly, "I do not see how you could have had any other thoughts than what you term your second thoughts."

"Nor do I, now; and I suppose you can have no mercy on a poor fellow who is often hasty and wrong-headed. I will make a clean breast of it. I was charmed with your expression when first aware of your presence, but when you spoke you touched a sore spot. Miss Bodine, you would not be ostracized at the North. You would be treated with the courtesy and cordiality to which every one would see you to be ent.i.tled. Practically I am ostracized here by the cla.s.s to which you belong. When you spoke I stalked away like a sulky boy, muttering, 'Why shouldn't I be a gentleman?' Even the girls in this town are taught to look upon Northerners as boors. I had only to pick up an old woman, and face a bully, when, as if in utter surprise that one of my ilk should be so grandly heroic, I heard the words, 'You are a gentleman.' You see it was my wretched egotism that got me into the sc.r.a.pe. When I thought of you, not myself, I saw the truth at once, and felt like going back to the expressman and meekly asking him to give me a drubbing."

All was clear to Ella now. Indeed there was a frankness and sincerity about Houghton which left no suspicion of dark corners and mental reservations. As his explanation proceeded she began to laugh. "Well," she remarked, "I had my first thoughts too. I said to myself, as I pursued my way homeward, with burning cheeks, that you or any one else might save all the old women in town, and fight all the bullies, and that I would pa.s.s on my way without looking to the right or left."

"Pardon me, Miss Bodine, you are mistaken. Your generous spirit would get the better of you again in two seconds. Heaven grant, however, that next time you may have a gentleman as your ally. For a few moments I ceased to be one, and became an egotistical fool."

"You are too hard upon yourself. Since you interpret me so kindly it would ill become me to--"

"Ella, my dear," said her chaperon, "let me present to you Mr. Vandeveer."

Houghton gave her a bright, grateful glance, rose instantly, and bowed himself away.

Mrs. Robertson had been on pins and needles over this prolonged conference. There was something so resolute about Houghton's manner, and he had placed his chair so adroitly to bar approach to Ella, that the good lady was in sore straits. Mrs. Willoughby saw her perplexity, and felt not a little mischievous pleasure over it. She disappeared that she might not be called upon to interfere. At last in desperation Mrs. Robertson laid hold on Mr. Vandeveer, and ended the ominous interview.

Ella gave rather lame attention to her new companion's commonplaces; then others were introduced, and the evening was drifting away in the ordinary fas.h.i.+on. She soon began to talk well in her own bright way, and had all the attention a young debutante could desire, but she was always conscious of Houghton's presence, and also aware that he was quietly observant of her. She saw that he met with very little cordiality, and that from but a few. Womanlike, she began to take his part in her thoughts, and to feel the injustice shown him. She had an innate sense of fair play, and she resented the manoeuvring of her chaperon to keep him away from her. Yet she soon found herself enjoying abundantly the conversation of such young men as met with Mrs. Robertson's approval. This truth was apparent to that lady's satisfaction, but the independent young woman was not long in resolving that if she went into society she would not go as a child in leading-strings, and she determined that she would speak to Houghton again before the evening was over, if the opportunity offered. He had at last disappeared, but she soon discovered that he was on the balcony with Clancy and Miss Ainsley. Strolling past them with her escort, she heard enough of their bright, merry talk to wish that she had a part in it. It was her nature, however, to avoid him until she could speak under the eye of her chaperon, and she again entered the lighted drawing-room.

Houghton, meanwhile, had been doing some thinking himself. The girl, whose blue eyes had looked at him so approvingly in the street, was taking a stronger hold on his fancy every moment. The relaxation of her cold aspect into mirthfulness, and an approach to kindness had enchanted him; while her ardent, honest, fearless nature appealed to him powerfully. "She strikes me as a woman who would stand by a fellow through thick and thin as long as he was right," he thought, "and if my judgment is correct the whole ex-Confederate army shan't keep me from getting acquainted with her.

Ah! how I liked that severe look in her eyes till she knew what my first thoughts were! She _has_ blue blood of the right sort, and I'm sorely mistaken if it doesn't feed a brain that can think for itself."

He also returned to the drawing-room, and was vigilant for an opportunity.

It soon occurred. Ella and her attendant were chatting with Mrs.

Willoughby a little apart from the others. Houghton joined them instantly, and was encouraged when both the ladies greeted him with a smile. The attendant gentleman soon withdrew, the hostess remained a few moments longer, and then Houghton and Ella were alone.

"You may have observed," he said, "the penalty I pay for being a Northerner."

"Yes," she replied, "and I don't think it's fair."

"Miss Bodine, do you dare _think_ for yourself?"

"I scarcely know how I can help doing so."

"That is just what I was thinking out on the balcony."

"I thought you were charmed by that beautiful Miss Ainsley."

"She has no eyes except for Clancy, and a fine fellow he is too--too good for her, I imagine. I can't make her out."

"Neither can I."

"Oh, bother her! I don't like feminine riddles. Miss Bodine, there's a gentleman in my father's employ bearing your name. Is he a relative?"

"He is my father," she replied proudly.

"I should guess as much if your eyes were not so blue."

"I have my mother's eyes, I am told."

"Well, on that same day--you know--he told me that he was a gentleman: can you guess how?"

"I would rather you should tell me."

"I was sent to him by my father with a message, and I spoke rudely to him at first; not intentionally, but as a harum-scarum young fellow might speak to an elderly man under ordinary circ.u.mstances, I meaning nothing more than friendly familiarity. I fear you won't understand, but with you I can't help downright honesty."

"Yes, I understand. He was one of your father's clerks, and you cared little what you said to him."

"Scarcely right, Miss Bodine. With all my faults--and they are legion--I'm good-natured, and do not intentionally hurt people's feelings. What a fine proof of that I gave you in my insufferable stupidity!"

"That's been explained and is past. Please don't refer to it any more."