Tempest and Sunshine Part 18

"The worst is over," said she. "She will not die now, even if she saw him wedded to me." So she suffered her sister's cheek to grow paler, and her delicate form thinner, at the supposed desertion of her lover. Little did f.a.n.n.y think that he, whose false-heartedness she deplored, dreamed each night of his distant dear one, and that each day his warm heart beat more quickly, because no tidings came from her.

A few days after f.a.n.n.y's return there came cards of invitation for a large party at the residence of a Mr. C--. The evening was propitious, and at the usual hour Mrs. C--'s parlors were filled with the beauty and fas.h.i.+on of the city. Among all the belles who that evening graced the brilliantly lighted drawing rooms, none was so much admired as Julia Middleton, who appeared dressed in a rich crimson velvet robe, tastefully trimmed with ermine. Magnificent bracelets, which had cost her father almost as many oaths as dollars, glittered on her white, rounded arms. Her snowy neck, which was also uncovered, was without ornament. Her glossy hair, dark as night, was arranged in the most becoming manner.

At the time Mr. Middleton had given Julia her bracelets, he had presented f.a.n.n.y with a bandeau of pearls. But Julia found it an easy task to persuade her sister that pearls were not becoming to her style of beauty; so on the evening of the party they gleamed amid the heavy braids of Julia's hair. Wherever she went she was followed by a train of admirers, who had little thought that that soft smile and beautiful face concealed a heart as hard as the flinty rock.

Contrary to all the rules of propriety, the heartless Mrs. Carrington was there, dealing out her fascinating smiles and bland words. She had thrown aside her mourning for the occasion and was arrayed in a dress of black velvet. An elegant lace bertha covered her white, beautiful neck, while one of her fair arms was clasped by a diamond bracelet. To this bracelet was attached a small locket which contained the daguerreotype of him, upon whose quiet grave the suns of scarce five months had risen and set. Amid that brilliant scene she had no thought for the dead, but others wondered much that he should be so soon forgotten. She was attended by Raymond, who scarcely left her side during the whole evening, although she made several ineffectual attempts to shake him off, for she did not care to be too much noticed by a "poor Yankee schoolmaster."

Henry Ashton was also there, but his attention was wholly engrossed in the bright eyes and sunny face of Florence Woodburn, who had recently returned from Philadelphia, where she had been attending for the last two years.

Florence was the only daughter of the Mr. Woodburn, who was mentioned in the first chapter of this narrative. Her father lived several miles from the city, but she had friends in town and spent much of her time there.

She was very handsome and very agreeable, and as she would probably be quite an heiress, her appearance in the fas.h.i.+onable world created a great sensation.

During the evening, as she was standing by Ashton and commenting on Julia's wondrous beauty, she said, "Where is the younger Miss Middleton?

Is she as handsome as her sister?"

Ashton replied, "She is not called half as beautiful, but she is much more amiable; but see there she comes," continued he, as f.a.n.n.y entered the room leaning on Stanton's arm.

She was so pale that her skin seemed almost transparent, but the excitement of the evening brought a bright glow to her cheek which greatly enhanced her loveliness. She was simply attired in a plain white muslin, low at the neck, which was veiled by the soft curls of her silken hair.

Her arms were encircled by a plain band of gold, and a white, half-opened rosebud was fastened to the bosom of her dress.

As she entered the room many admiring eyes were turned toward her, and Miss Woodburn exclaimed, "Oh, how lovely she is. Her sister seems more like the flas.h.i.+ng diamond, while f.a.n.n.y's beauty is like the soft l.u.s.tre of the pearl. But tell me," she continued, "is she not engaged to a Dr. Lacey of New Orleans?"

"Yes, or, that is, it was so rumored," answered Ashton, "but he has gone home, and since then I have heard nothing of it. Young Stanton seems very attentive. I should not wonder if something grows out of it."

"Always making matches, Mr. Ashton," said Mrs. Carrington, who for a moment rid herself of Raymond and now came near Ashton and Florence. She had heard them speak of Dr. Lacey and f.a.n.n.y, and as she knew Florence was soon going to New Orleans, she wished to give her a little Frankfort gossip to take with her.

"Oh, Mrs. Carrington," said Mr. Ashton, bowing politely, "allow me to introduce Miss Woodburn. We were just talking of the probability of Miss f.a.n.n.y's being engaged to Dr. Lacey. Perhaps you can enlighten us."

"Oh," said Mrs. Carrington, "I a.s.sure you I know but little about the matter. It is rather uncertain whom Miss f.a.n.n.y likes or dislikes. It is currently reported that she was in love with a Mr. Wilmot, who died, and who was known to be engaged to her sister. Since then Dr. Lacey has flirted with her, whether seriously or not I cannot tell; I should rather think not, however, for Mr. Stanton now seems to be the favored one."

"Oh," said Mr. Ashton, "I never supposed f.a.n.n.y was so much of a coquette."

"Neither do I think she is," said Florence, whose heart warmed toward f.a.n.n.y as soon as she saw her.

"Perhaps she is not," said Mrs. Carrington. "f.a.n.n.y is very young yet, but when fully matured will perhaps make a n.o.ble woman, but she has not the solidity of her sister, who tries hard to keep her from a.s.suming the appearance of a flirt." Then turning to Florence, she said, "I believe you are soon going to New Orleans?"

"Yes, madam," answered Florence.

"You will probably meet Dr. Lacey there," continued Mrs. Carrington.

"Perhaps you had better say nothing to him about f.a.n.n.y's flirtation with Stanton, for he would hardly believe it."

Florence merely nodded, thinking to herself that she should do as she chose about it. From the first she had been attracted toward f.a.n.n.y. There was something in her face, and in the expression of her eye, which interested Florence. It seemed to her that f.a.n.n.y would gladly have left the scene of gayety, and going out by herself, would have poured out all her soul in tears. She earnestly desired an introduction, and at last it was obtained. There must have been some secret magnet which attracted these young girls toward each other, for in a few moments they were arm in arm, talking familiarly upon different topics as though they had been acquainted a lifetime.

Florence was a warm-hearted, affectionate girl, and after a time she said, "Miss Middleton, I am going to New Orleans soon. I believe you have an acquaintance there. If I see him what shall I tell him?"

f.a.n.n.y's voice trembled slightly as she answered, "Tell whom?"

"Oh, Miss Middleton," said Florence, laughing gayly, "how that blush becomes you! Tell whom? Why, whom should it be but Dr. Lacey, who everybody, except Mrs. Carrington, says is engaged to you."

The fire shot in to f.a.n.n.y's eyes, but one look at the open face at her side a.s.sured her, and she answered, "I am not answerable for what the world pleases to say of me."

"I am to consider the report true, then," persisted Florence.

A momentary struggle took place in f.a.n.n.y's mind. Love and resentment strove for the mastery. The latter conquered, and the voice was calm and decided which replied, "I a.s.sure you, Miss Woodburn, that Dr. Lacey bears no relation to me except that of a common acquaintance."

"Indeed," said Florence. "I am sorry, for I was antic.i.p.ating much pleasure in describing Dr. Lacey's intended lady to the New Orleans girls."

f.a.n.n.y did not answer, and as Stanton just then approached, and asked her to go to the music room, she took his arm readily, glad to escape so painful a conversation.

"She is a strange girl," thought Florence, "and yet I know I should love her. I wonder what makes her so sad. Can it be that she really loved that Mr. Wilmot? At any rate, I am sorry for her and hope she will marry Mr.

Stanton, who seems much pleased with her."

This was the impression left on Florence's mind, which was productive of much mischief. At a late hour the company dispersed. f.a.n.n.y returned home, weary and sick at heart. Her conversation with Florence had awakened painful reminiscences of the past, and the gray daylight was beginning to streak the eastern horizon ere her heavy lids closed in slumber. In a few days Florence Woodburn departed for New Orleans, where her mother's brother resided. We will take pa.s.sage with her and pay a visit to Dr.

Lacey in his Southern home.

CHAPTER XI

A GLANCE AT NEW ORLEANS SOCIETY

The house which Dr. Lacey occupied was situated on one of the pleasantest streets of New Orleans. It was a large, airy structure, which had formerly been owned by a wealthy French gentleman who had spared neither money nor pains to adorn it with every elegance which could minister to the luxurious habits common to a Southern clime. When it pa.s.sed into the hands of Dr. Lacey's father, he gratified his Northern taste, and fitted it up with every possible convenience, molding its somewhat ancient aspect into a more modern style.

When Dr. Lacey reached the age of twenty-one, his father made him the owner of the house, he himself removing to another part of the city. At the time of which we are speaking, nothing could exceed the beauty of the house and grounds.

The yard which surrounded the building was large, and laid out with all the taste of a perfect connoisseur. In its center was a fountain, whose limpid waters fell into a large marble basin, while the spray which constantly arose from the falling stream seemed to render the heat of that sultry climate less oppressive. Scattered throughout the yard were the numerous trees and flowering shrubs which grow in profusion at the "sunny South." Here the beautiful magnolia shook its white blossoms in the evening breeze, and there the dark green foliage of the orange trees formed an effectual screen from the mid-day sun.

The building was surrounded on all sides by a double piazza, the slender pillars of which were entwined by the flowering honeysuckle and luxuriant pa.s.sion-flower, which gave the house the appearance of a closely wreathed arbor. Within the piazza was filled with rare tropical plants. The beautiful oleander, magnificent rose and sweet-scented geranium, here united their fragrance, while the scarlet verbenum and brilliant heliotrope added beauty to the scene.

The interior of the building corresponded with the exterior. The rooms, large and airy, were carpeted with velvet, and adorned with costly marble and rosewood furniture. The windows, which were constructed in the French style, that is, reaching to the floor, were curtained with richly-embroidered lace. Let us ascend the winding staircase, and enter the dressing room of the owner of all this splendor.

Half reclining on a crimson lounge sits Dr. Lacey, dressed in a fas.h.i.+onable brocade morning gown. On first glancing at him we think there is no change in his countenance since we last saw him on Mrs. Crane's steps in Frankfort, but as we note the expression of his face we can perceive a shade of anxiety resting there. At last he rises and rather impatiently pulls the bell rope.

His summons is immediately answered by an exquisite dandy, who is neither African, European, French, nor Spanish, but an odd mixture of the four. He is dressed in the extreme of fas.h.i.+on, and on entering the room bows most gracefully, at the same time casting an admiring glance at himself in the large mirror, and pa.s.sing his hand carelessly through his perfumed locks.

With the utmost deference, he awaits the commands of his master.

"Well, Rondeau," said Dr. Lacey, "haven't you finished breakfast yet?"

"Yes, marster," answered Rondeau, with a very low bow. "I've got through a moment since. What can I do for you. Will you ride this morning?"

"No," answered Dr. Lacey, "I do not wish to ride, but I want you to go to the post office and back immediately; remember now, and not stop to gossip."

"Certainly not," said the negro. "When marster's in a hurry, Rondeau is never foolin' away time."

"And don't stop more than an hour in the kitchen to talk to Leffie. Do you understand?" continued the doctor.