She opened the social game now, by saying, agreeably: "Your name is

not a strange one to us, Mr. Chilton. We have often heard you spoken

of in the most affectionate terms by our friends, but not near

neighbors, the Ayletts, of Ridgeley,----county. Is it long since you

met or heard from them?"

"Some months, madam. I hope they were in their usual health when you

last saw them?"

Receiving her affirmative reply with a courteous bow, and the

assurance that he was "happy to hear it," Mr. Chilton turned to

Rosa, and engaged her in conversation upon divers popular topics of

the day, all of which she was careful should conduct them in the

opposite direction from Ridgeley, and his affectionate intimates,

the Ayletts. He appreciated and was grateful for her tact and

delicacy. Her unaffected pleasure at meeting him had been as

pleasant as it was unlooked-for, aware as he was, from Mabel's

letter immediately preceding the rapture of their engagement, that

Rosa must have been staying with her when it occurred. The slander

that had blackened him in the esteem of his betrothed had, he

naturally supposed, injured his reputation beyond hope of retrieval

with her acquaintances. Rosa, her bosom companion, could not but

have heard the whole history, yet met him with undiminished

cordiality, as a valued friend. Either the Ayletts had been

unnaturally discreet, or the faith of the interesting girl in his

integrity was firmer and better worth preserving than he had

imagined in the past. Perhaps, too, since he was but mortal man,

although one whose heritage in the school of experience had been of

the sternest, he was not entirely insensible to the privilege of

promenading the long suite of apartments with the prettiest girl of

the season hanging upon his arm, and granting her undivided

attention to all that he said, indifferent to, or unmindful of, the

flattering notice she attracted.

Over and above all these recommendations to his peculiar regard was

her association with the happy days of his early love. Not an

intonation, not a look of hers, but reminded him of Ridgeley and of

Mabel. It was a perilous indulgence--this recurrence to a dream he

had vowed to forget, but the temptation had befallen him suddenly,

and he surrendered himself to the intoxication.

Yes! she was going to the President's levee that evening, Rosa said.

A sort of raree-show--was it not? with the Chief Magistrate for head

mountebank. He was worse off in one respect than the poorest

cottager in the nation he was commonly reported to govern, inasmuch

as he had not the right to invite whom he pleased to his house, and

when the mob overran his premises he must treat all with equal

affability. She pitied his wife! She would rather, if the choice

were offered her, be one of the revolving wax dummies used in

shop-windows for showing the latest style of evening costume and

hair-dressing--for the dolls had no wits of their own to begin with,

and were not expected to say clever things, as the President's

consort was, after she had lost hers in the crush of the aforesaid

mob, who eyed her freely as an appendage to their chattel, the man

they had bought by their votes, and put in the highest seat in the

Republic. No! she was not provided with an escort to the White

House. She did not know three people in Washington beside her

relatives, and, looking forward to creeping into the palatial East

Room at her uncle's back, or in the shadow of her cousin's husband,

the vision of enjoyment had not been exactly enrapturing--BUT, her

companion's proposal to join their party and help elbow the crowd

away from her, lent a different coloring to the horizon.




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