The Rector of St. Marks
Page 10Such was the Hetherton party, and they created quite as great a
sensation as Mrs. Hetherton could desire, first upon the commoners,
the people nearest the door, who rented the cheaper pews; then upon
those farther up the aisle, and then upon Mrs. Meredith, who,
attracted by the rustling of heavy silk and aristocratic perfume
emanating from Mrs. Hetherton's handkerchief, slightly turned her head
at first, and, as the party swept by, stopped her reading entirely and
involuntarily started forward, while a smile of pleasure flitted
across her face as Fanny's black, saucy eyes took her, with others,
within their range of vision, and Fanny's black head nodded a quick
nod of recognition. The Hethertons and Mrs. Meredith were evidently
the great lady forgot for a while to read, but kept her eyes upon them
all, especially upon the fifth and last mentioned member of the party,
the graceful little blonde, whose eyes might have caught their hue
from the deep blue of the summer sky, and whose long, silken curls
fell in a golden shower beneath the fanciful French hat. She was a
beautiful young creature, and even Anna Ruthven leaned forward to look
at her as she shook out her airy muslin and dropped into her seat. For
a moment the little coquettish head bowed reverently, but at the first
sound of the rector's voice it lifted itself up quickly, and Anna saw
the bright color which rushed into her cheeks and the eager joy which
sight of her, started suddenly and paused an instant in his reading.
Who was she, and what was she to Arthur Leighton? Anna asked herself,
while, by the fierce pang which shot through her heart, as she watched
the stranger and the clergyman, she knew that she loved the rector of
St. Mark's, even if she doubted it before.
Anna was not an ill-tempered girl, but the sight of those gay city
people annoyed her, and when, at she sang the Jubilate Deo, she saw
the soft blue orbs of the blonde and the coal-black eyes of the
brunette, turning wonderingly toward her, she was conscious of
returning their glance with as much of scorn as it was possible for
prayers which followed; but, when the services were over, and she saw
a little figure in blue and white flitting up the aisle to where
Arthur, still in his robes, stood waiting for her, an expression upon
his face which she could not define, she felt that she had prayed in
vain; and, with a bitterness she had never before experienced, she
watched the meeting between them, growing more and more bitter as she
saw the upturned face, the wreathing of the rosebud lips into the
sweetest of smiles, and the tiny white hand, which Arthur took and
held while he spoke words she would have given much to hear.