Marion Berkley Part 33

"I certainly agree to come. It will be my first real entrance into Boston society; but as for dancing, that's quite another thing; I gave that up years ago."

"Why, man alive!" exclaimed Mr. Berkley; "any one would think, to hear you talk sometimes, you were a perfect Methuselah! Here, Marion!" he cried, calling her in from the other room, "I want you to give Dr.

Drayton private lessons in dancing, so that he will be able to get through the 'German' at your party."

"I am much obliged to Miss Marion," said Dr. Drayton, quietly; "but it is too late for me to begin now; I must decline her services."

"Perhaps it would be as well if you waited until I offered them,"

replied Marion, haughtily, piqued at the coolness of his manner. "I certainly had no intentions of becoming a dancing-mistress for you or any one else!"

The doctor made no reply, but Mr. Berkley laughed aloud, as he exclaimed: "Look here, Marion, that Thornton has spoiled you! You are so used to having him consider it an honor to be allowed to pick up your handkerchief, that you begin to think that every one else must do the same."

"Papa, how unkind!" said Marion, flus.h.i.+ng to the roots of her hair; "I don't know as Mr. Thornton ever picked up my handkerchief in his life, and he wouldn't be so foolish as to consider it an honor if he had."

"No?" replied her father, in the most provoking way; "but there,--you shan't be teased any more! Just turn round, and smile sweetly on the doctor, and tell him you don't think he's too old to come to your party, and you'll let him, if he'll promise to be a good boy."

"I don't care whether he comes or not," cried Marion, struggling to get away from her father.

"If that is the case," said Dr. Drayton, "I shall certainly come, simply for my own amus.e.m.e.nt. I didn't know but my presence might be particularly disagreeable to you; but as you seem so thoroughly indifferent, I shall come, and look on with the other old folks."

Marion bit her lips, and said nothing; but as her father still held her hand, so that she could not get away, she seated herself on the arm of his chair with her face turned towards the fire.

"Doctor," said Mr. Berkley, "why don't you shave off that beard? It makes you look five years older than you are."

"That is my mask," replied the doctor, stroking his beard with his right hand; "I could not part with it."

"What, in the name of sense, do you want of a mask?"

"Unluckily for me, my mouth is the telltale feature of my face. I found, when I first became a surgeon, that my patients could tell by its expression whether they were to live or die; so I covered it up with this beard. After I had been at the hospital several years, and had seen sights that the very telling of them would make you shudder; when I performed operation after operation without flinching, or even having the slightest feeling of repugnance, I thought I must have got my mouth under perfect control, and so ventured to trim my mustache and shave my beard. That very morning I had to attend a poor fellow who had had his leg amputated the day before; during the examination I never looked at him, for I felt his eyes were fixed on my face. Suddenly he exclaimed: 'It's no use, doctor; you can keep your eyes down, but you can't hide your mouth,--that says death.' It was the truth; mortification had set in, and he died the next morning. After that I let my beard grow, and so long as I remain a surgeon, which I shall so long as my hand is steady enough to guide the knife, it will stay as it is."

"Well, I think you are right," said Mr. Berkley; "but by and by, when you get a wife, perhaps she will think differently, and the beard, and the profession too, may have to go. The last, I hear, pays you nothing."

"If ever I get a wife," replied Dr. Drayton, "she will probably think as I do,--that, as I have been blessed with more than an ample fortune, I should be a heartless wretch, if I did not devote my skill to the relief of the suffering poor."

Marion, who had listened silently to the above conversation, finding her father had released his hold of her hand, slipped quietly away.

The weeks flew past, and the eventful day, when Marion was to make her debut into fas.h.i.+onable society, at last arrived.

Rachel, of course, would not go to the party, as she was still in deep mourning; but Florence was to stay all night with Marion, and Rachel went round early with her uncle, that she might see her two friends in the full splendor of their first ball-dresses. She went directly to the drawing-room, where she heard the voices of the girls, leaving her uncle to find his way to the dressing-room.

"Hands off these two pieces of dry-goods!" cried Fred, who was capering round his sister and Florence, in a perfect state of delight, and all the glories of his first dress-coat, when Rachel entered the room. "You may admire as much as you please; but you can't touch 'em with a ten-foot pole."

"Get out of the way, Fred," said Marion, putting him aside as she went forward to meet Rachel; "she shall touch me as much as she pleases. How do you like it, Rachel? Is it just the thing?"

"I should say it certainly was!" exclaimed Rachel, enthusiastically. "I never saw anything so lovely in my life; and you two look so pretty together!"

"You see our dresses are made just alike," said Florence, b.u.t.toning her gloves; "only my flowers are pink, and hers white."

The two girls certainly did look lovely. Their dresses were of white tarlatan, puffed and ruffled sufficiently to be quite a la mode, but still so light and delicate as to give them a floating, airy appearance, and not make them look like exaggerated fas.h.i.+on-plates. Marion's was caught, here and there, with white daisies and delicate gra.s.ses, a wreath of the same in her hair; while Florence's was trimmed with pink roses and buds.

"May I be allowed to come in at this early hour?" inquired Dr. Drayton, as he appeared on the threshold.

"Yes, indeed," laughed Marion, advancing to meet him, and stopping in the centre of the room, to drop him a profound courtesy; "you are my first arrival."

"And as such claim your acceptance of this bouquet, which I hope you will honor me by carrying during the evening."

Marion looked up very much surprised, as he held towards her an exquisite bouquet. He was the last man from whom she would have expected such an attention.

"I am very sorry, Dr. Drayton, but you see Fred has one in his hand which I promised a week ago I would carry to-night; but I am just as much obliged, and will set it on the stand close to where I sit in the 'German.'"

"No, indeed," replied the doctor, without the slightest appearance of annoyance; "my poor bouquet shall not be so set aside. Mrs. Berkley, will you honor me?"

"I say, Marion," exclaimed Fred, as Marion took her bouquet from his hand, "what a pity you promised Thornton you'd carry his! The doctor's is twice as handsome!"

"So it's Mr. Thornton who has got ahead of me?" said the doctor. "Miss Florence, I hope I am not to be equally unfortunate with you;" and he presented her with a beautiful bouquet, which he had until that moment held behind him.

"Oh, thank you!" cried Florence, perfectly delighted; "you know it's not my debut, and no one else has thought of honoring me; it was very kind of you. See, Marion, isn't it lovely?"

"Yes, very," replied Marion, as she bent over it, inwardly provoked with herself for being annoyed because the doctor had not only handed over her bouquet to her mother with such perfect nonchalance, but had also brought one for Florence.

But guests were soon seen pa.s.sing through the hall on their way to the dressing-rooms, and Rachel was obliged to hurry off; soon the rooms began to fill, and before long the wonderful "German" was at its height.

The doctor felt himself a stranger in a strange land; he had been introduced to, and conversed with, several young ladies, but now all conversation was broken up by the "German," and he stood leaning against the door-way, and watched the dance as it proceeded. He noticed several men, much older than himself, dancing with fair young girls; and he wondered within himself if they were really enjoying themselves, and why it was that he stood like one shut out from all the pleasures of youth, young in years but old in feelings; in fact, he was getting a trifle misanthropical, when Marion floated slowly past him, waltzing with Arthur Thornton. As they pa.s.sed, so near that her draperies touched him, he heard Mr. Thornton say, in a low tone full of meaning, "Marion you are enough to make a man mad, to-night! You are almost too lovely!"

"So," thought the doctor, as he turned away, "it is all settled. Well, I supposed as much."

He did not see Marion as she abruptly stopped dancing, and looked at poor, infatuated Arthur with a frigid glance, which made his heart leap to his throat, as she said, "Mr. Thornton, you forget yourself; will you lead me to my seat?"

Poor Arthur! it was his first rash act; he had loved Marion so well, and tried so hard to conceal it until he was sure of her feelings; but to-night as he said, she was almost too lovely, and before he had thought of the consequences he had called her by name and told her so.

It was his first act of tenderness and his last, for now he knew as well that to her he could never be anything more than a friend, as if she had refused him point-blank. Poor fellow! it was a hard blow, but he did not stagger under it; he danced the "German" with as much apparent gayety, and hid his grief under as bright a smile as ever graced a ball-room.

But though he flattered himself that no one knew the pain he suffered, there was one, who, although she neither heard his remark, nor Marion's answer, witnessed the little scene between them, saw the frigid look in Marion's eyes, and the light die out of his, and her heart ached for the poor fellow, as only the heart of a young girl can ache, over the sorrows of a man whose happiness is dearer to her than her own.

The next morning Rachel was in the dining-room, waiting for her uncle to come to breakfast. She had watered and arranged the plants, and now stood tapping impatiently on the window-pane, and wondering why he was so late; but he soon made his appearance, coming in with Mrs. Marston.

"O Uncle Robert!" she exclaimed, "I began to think you were never coming; don't you know I'm dying to hear about the party?"

"My dear, if I had known you were in such a terrible state of mind and body," replied her uncle, as he seated himself at the table, "I would have come down at six; but if you will take the trouble to look at the clock, you will see it is you who are early, not I who am late."

"Well, never mind that," impatiently replied Rachel; "how did Marion look?"

"Didn't you see for yourself?"

"Oh! that was before any one had got there, and she was not at all excited; she's always lovelier then, she has such a beautiful color, and it makes her eyes handsomer than ever."

"I don't think it's necessary for me to say anything, do you, Mrs.