Marion Berkley Part 34

Marston?" said the doctor, as he calmly stirred his coffee; "just imagine her as you saw her, only a little excited, and you'll know exactly how she looked."

"Did she have much attention?"

"You could hardly expect anything else, as the party was at her house."

"Oh! of course people would be polite; but wasn't there anybody particularly attentive? Didn't she get 'taken out' a great deal?"

"'Taken out?'" repeated the doctor, with a puzzled expression. "Mrs.

Marston, can you enlighten me?"

"Oh, yes!" laughed Mrs. Marston; "that is only one of the mysterious phrases of the 'German,' which being interpreted means, did a great many gentlemen ask her to dance?"

"Oh, thank you," replied the doctor. "Yes, Rachel, she got 'taken out' a great deal; in fact she seemed to be out all the time."

"There! _that's_ what I wanted to know," said Rachel, in a tone of satisfaction; "now tell me about Florence."

"I'll try to answer you in the most approved style. She looked very charming indeed; seemed to have plenty of admirers, for I noticed that Miss Marion managed to have her share her honors, and made her the guest of the evening; she was 'taken out' a great deal, and above all, continued to carry my bouquet the whole evening without dropping it."

"I'm so glad," cried Rachel, "but wasn't it a shame that Arthur Thornton should have sent his bouquet to Marion first?"

"A shame? Why, no indeed," answered her uncle, with the utmost composure; "for if he had not, she would have been obliged to carry mine, and I know she preferred Mr. Thornton's."

"I don't believe it; yours was a great deal handsomer."

"Oh! that's not the point! Of course you must see that Mr. Thornton is to be _the_ man."

"Uncle Robert, how absurd! I don't believe Marion would ever have him in the world!"

"And why not, I should like to know? He is handsome, intelligent,--in fact, a very good fellow every way, and has plenty of money."

"But Marion never will marry for money!" cried Rachel.

"I don't say she will; but what is your objection to Mr. Thornton?"

"I haven't any at all; I like him very much, but he would never do for Marion. She wants a much stronger man than he."

"Well, perhaps he will develop his muscle," replied Dr. Drayton, coolly.

"Uncle Robert! you know I don't mean that kind of strength!--mental strength; some one in every way superior to herself; in fact, some one that she could feel was her master."

"Master! I can't imagine Miss Marion yielding her own sweet will to any one."

"Rachel is right," said Mrs. Marston; "when Marion marries she will choose a man much older than herself."

"Well, time will show," said Dr. Drayton; "but Rachel, if Marion Berkley is not engaged to Mr. Thornton at the end of six months, I'll give you the handsomest diamond ring I can buy at Bigelow's."

CHAPTER XXIV.

CONCLUSION.

The days and weeks flew by like hours, and Marion found herself surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and one of the acknowledged belles of the season. b.a.l.l.s, parties, receptions, matinees, and formal calls took up all her time, and what with lying abed in the morning to make up for her late hours, the days were fairly turned into night, and night into day. Mrs. Berkley remonstrated as she saw her daughter drifting farther and farther out on the sea of fas.h.i.+onable society, but it was now too late; she could not refuse all the invitations that were showered upon her, and those that she would have been glad to decline, her father would not allow her to, for fear of giving offence. She had at first made a struggle to keep up her French and German, but at last gave it up as useless, for if she had no engagement for those hours, she was too tired and worn out by her dissipation to attend to them properly.

Rachel felt extremely sorry to be obliged to tell her uncle that his prediction had proved true; that Marion's time was too much occupied with b.a.l.l.s and parties for her to attend the lessons; but she added a saving clause, to the effect that when Lent put an end to the extreme gayeties of the season, Marion would be glad to join them.

"If she wishes to join us then, well and good," said Dr. Drayton; "but Rachel, I want you to fully understand, that you must never ask her to do so; she must come back to us as she left us, of her own free will."

Marion felt far from satisfied with the life she was leading. At first it was very delightful to find herself so much admired; to know that the honor of her hand for the "German" was sought days in advance by the men who were considered the bright, particular stars of the fas.h.i.+onable world; to have hardly a day go by that did not bring her an exquisite bouquet, or basket of flowers; never go to the theatre or opera that several young exquisites did not come to her seat for a chat between the acts! Oh, it was very delightful indeed; and for a while she thought she had never been so happy in her life. But only for a while; she grew tired at last of hearing the same things said to her night after night, over and over again; she knew she was wasting her life; the precious moments and hours that would never come again. Her health, too, began to give way under this constant dissipation. She had frequent dull headaches, and could not keep herself from being irritated at trifles that she would never have noticed before. Even her father began to complain that "she was going out almost too much; he never had a quiet evening at home, and as for her music he had not heard her touch the piano for weeks."

Just about this time she received a letter from Mme. Beranger. She wrote in a bright, happy strain, giving an account of what was going on at the school, alluding with a little conjugal pride to the beneficial influence which M. Beranger exerted over the scholars, and the respect which he inspired, not only from them, but from Miss Stiefbach also.

She concluded by saying:--

"And now, my dear Marion, I am going to speak of yourself, a subject about which I know very well you do not care to have much said; but you will bear it patiently I feel sure from your old teacher, who says with truth, that, dear as all her scholars have been to her, none ever came so near, so completely won her love, as you have done.

"I wanted to tell you, before the close of school last autumn, how much I rejoiced in the victories which I saw you were daily gaining over yourself; but the opportunity never seemed to arrive when I could do so without appearing to force myself upon you.

"It would make you happy, I know, if you could hear yourself spoken of as I am almost daily in the habit of hearing your name mentioned by one or more of the scholars, in the kindest, most affectionate terms.

"It is a good thing when a girl leaves school carrying with her the love and admiration of her school-mates, and leaving behind her nothing but regret that she is no longer there to join in their studies, or lead them in their fun and frolic.

"Now you have done with school-days, and it is very probable that many of your school-mates you may never meet again; you will form new friends wherever you go, and to a certain extent owe some duties to society; but I cannot imagine you as among the cla.s.s of young ladies, who, the moment the doors of the school-room close behind them, consider their education finished, and so straightway give up all sensible occupations, and fritter away their time in fas.h.i.+onable dissipation. I have seen too much of you, understand your nature too well, to believe you capable of such folly; but temptations of various kinds will come to you in the future, as they have come in the past, and the same sense of right, the same determination to conquer yourself, which helped you to overcome the faults of your girlhood, will strengthen and sustain you in your endeavors to attain a pure, n.o.ble womanhood.

"But I fear you will think I am writing you a sermon, and that I have forgotten that you have pa.s.sed from under my authority, but 'the spirit moved me,' and so I have spoken; if I have said more than I ought, forgive me, and take it kindly from your old Miss Christine.

"My sister wished to be kindly remembered to you, and my husband says: Faites mes amities a Mlle. Berkley. Good-by, my dear,

"From your true friend,

"CHRISTINE BeRANGER."

Marion's conscience smote her as she read the letter, and thought how far short of all Mme. Beranger had hoped she would be, of all she had determined for herself, was the life she was now leading. Day by day she became more and more discontented with herself, as she saw how completely she had given her time to what her teacher had rightly called, "fas.h.i.+onable dissipation."

Lent at last arrived, and Marion, although not an Episcopalian, welcomed it with delight, for now there would be few if any, large parties, and she would have a chance to rest. She was determined to commence a course of history; practise at least two hours a day, and, if Rachel proposed it, commence again her French and German, in which her friend had made such astonis.h.i.+ng progress as to make Marion thoroughly ashamed of herself. But, much to Marion's surprise, Rachel did not propose it, neither did Dr. Drayton, before whom she had mentioned several times how sorry she was to find herself so far behind Rachel. She thought it very strange that the doctor did not again offer to teach her with his niece, and resolved, if she could ever manage to humble herself sufficiently to ask a favor of him, she would tell him herself she wanted to rejoin the cla.s.s.

An opportunity offered itself sooner than she had expected. The doctor had a fine baritone voice, and was extremely fond of music. Rachel, as a general thing, was able to play his accompaniments for him, but now and then he bought a new song too difficult for her to manage, and he often brought them, at Mr. Berkley's suggestion, for Marion to play for him.

One evening he made his appearance with a piece of music in his hand, and said, as he shook hands with her:--

"Miss Marion, I have a song here that is most too much for Rachel: will you do me the favor of playing the accompaniment?"

"Yes," replied Marion, as she took the music, and glanced over it; "on one condition."

"And that is?" said the doctor.

"That you will let me come back to the French and German readings."