Audrey

Audrey felt the touch of his lips upon her forehead, and shivered. All her

world was going round; she could not steady it, could not see aright, knew

not what was happening. The strangeness made her dizzy. She hardly heard

Mistress Stagg's last protest that it would never do,--never in the world;

hardly knew when she left the house. She was out beneath the stars, moving

toward a lit Palace whence came the sound of violins. Haward's arm was

beneath her hand; his voice was in her ear, but it was as the wind's

voice, whose speech she did not understand. Suddenly they were within the

Palace garden, with its winding, torchlit walks, and the terraces at the

side; suddenly again, they had mounted the Palace steps, and the doors

were open, and she was confronted with lights and music and shifting,

dazzling figures. She stood still, clasped her hands, and gave Haward a

piteous look. Her face, for all its beauty and its painted roses, was

strangely the child's face that had lain upon his breast, where he knelt

amid the corn, in the valley between the hills, so long ago. He gave her

mute appeal no heed. The Governor's guests, passing from room to room,

crossed and recrossed the wide hall, and down the stairway, to meet a row

of gallants impatient at its foot, came fair women, one after the other,

the flower of the colony, clothed upon like the lilies of old. Haward,

entering with Audrey, saw Mr. Lee at the stairfoot, and, raising his eyes,

was aware of Evelyn descending alone and somewhat slowly, all in rose

color, and with a smile upon her lips.

She was esteemed the most beautiful woman in Virginia, the most graceful

and accomplished. Wit and charm and fortune were hers, and the little gay

world of Virginia had mated her with Mr. Marmaduke Haward of Fair View.

Therefore that portion of it that chanced to be in the hall of the

Governor's house withdrew for the moment its attention from its own

affairs, and bestowed it upon those of the lady descending the stairs, and

of the gold-and-white gentleman who, with a strange beauty at his side,

stood directly in her path. It was a very wise little world, and since

yesterday afternoon had been fairly bursting with its own knowledge. It

knew all about that gypsy who had come to town from Fair View

parish,--"La, my dear, just the servant of a minister!"--and knew to a

syllable what had passed in the violent quarrel to which Mr. Lee owed his

good fortune.

That triumphant gentleman now started forward, and, with a low bow,

extended his hand to lead to the ballroom this rose-colored paragon and

cynosure of all eyes. Evelyn smiled upon him, and gave him her scarf to

hold, but would not be hurried; must first speak to her old friend Mr.

Haward, and tell him that her father's foot could now bear the shoe, and

that he might appear before the ball was over. This done, she withdrew her

gaze, from Haward's strangely animated, vividly handsome countenance,

and turned it upon the figure at his side. "Pray present me!" she said

quickly. "I do not think I have the honor of knowing"-Audrey raised her head, that had been bent, and looked again, as she had

looked yesterday, with all her innocent soul and heavy heart, into the

eyes of the princess. The smile died from Evelyn's lips, and a great wave

of indignant red surged over face and neck and bosom. The color fled, but

not the bitter anger. So he could bring his fancy there! Could clothe her

that was a servant wench in a splendid gown, and flaunt her before the

world--before the world that must know--oh, God! must know how she herself

loved him! He could do this after that month at Westover! She drew her

breath, and met the insult fairly. "I withdraw my petition," she said

clearly. "Now that I bethink me, my acquaintance is already somewhat too

great. Mr. Lee, shall we not join the company? I have yet to make my

curtsy to his Excellency."