He went into the smoking-room of the Marlborough and lighted a cigar—that solatium of the angry, the wounded, the wearied, and the sore oppressed. He had not been there five minutes before a young friend entered and hailed him with sprightly3 welcome. He was a wild young Irish viscount, Lord Dunworthy, who was rapidly running through a fortune which he had recently inherited, and enjoying life as only a young Irishman can. He was the gossip of the club, and Trafford usually liked to listen to his light-hearted chatter4; but he could have dispensed5 with it this afternoon.
“Halloo, Trafford!” said the young fellow. “I’m in luck! Who’d have thought of seeing you here at this time of day! Have a whisky and soda6? I’m going to!”
Trafford declined the proffered7 drink, and Lord Dunworthy swiftly consumed his, and sat himself down beside Trafford for a talk. He retailed8 the gossip of the day, but suddenly broke off to exclaim:
“I say, Trafford, were you at the Blankyres’ the other night?”
Trafford nodded.
“I didn’t go; I wish I had, for I should have seen the heiress they are all talking about. She was at the Fletchers’ last night, but I got there too late, and she’d gone before I arrived. Is she as beautiful as they say she is?”
“Do you mean Miss Chetwynde?” asked Trafford, gravely.
“Of course! Nobody’s talking of any one else. They tell me that she created a tremendous sensation at the Blankyres’; and last night, at the Fletchers’, there was such a mob round her that you couldn’t get near her. And did you see ‘Society Chatter’ this morning?”
Trafford said that he never read the paper.
“Ah! not much in your line! Well, there’s nearly a page[102] about her. It gives a full account of how she was found out in Australia, and an exhaustive description of her dresses. They say she’s worth two millions, and that she’s one of the most charming girls that ever came to London. She’s going to be the rage this season, you mark my words. Is it true that she drops her h’s, and otherwise murders the Queen’s English?”
“It is not true,” said Trafford, rather grimly, and angry with himself for feeling angry.
“No? Not that it matters. I suppose it’s all right about the coin?”
“I don’t know; I believe so!” said Trafford. “I know nothing of Miss Chetwynde; and I only talked with her for a few minutes. I didn’t ask her if she possessed9 two millions.”
The young fellow looked at him with some little surprise; Trafford was not usually short-tempered or irritable10.
“All right, old chap; didn’t mean anything offensive; didn’t know she was a friend of yours.”
“I can lay no claim to Miss Chetwynde’s friendship,” said Trafford, trying to smile.
“That’s all right. I shall see her myself to-night; she is going to the Villiers’, and you bet I sha’n’t be late this time. They say that Lady Wyndover is in the seventh heaven of delight at having such a ward11, and that no one less than a prince of the blood will be good enough for her. Shall you go to-night?”
“I don’t know,” said Trafford.
“Do!” said the young fellow. “There’ll be a fearful crush, for Miss Chetwynde will be a great attraction; but I dare say we can fight our way in.”
Trafford was soon left alone again, for the gay young Irishman did not find him too cheerful a companion, and Trafford finished his cigar in a mood even more irritable than that in which he had commenced it.
It seemed to him as if this girl were going to dominate his life, as if he were to be haunted by her name and her money wherever he went and whomsoever he met. He dined at the club, and the two or three men who sat at the same table with him talked of little else but Miss Chetwynde. One of them, with the audacity12 of youth, called her the Golden Savage13; and Trafford sat almost silent, and chafing14 inwardly, though outwardly as calm and serene15 as usual. He went home to his chambers16 half resolved not to go to the Villiers’, but by ten o’clock the faint resolution had melted, and he put on his overcoat, and sauntered down to Lord Villiers’ official residence,[103] in Carlton Terrace, in a frame of mind more easily imagined than described.
About the same time, Lady Wyndover and Esmeralda were starting for the same destination. Her ladyship was, if not in a seventh heaven of delight, in the fifth or sixth. Esmeralda’s success had been greater, more emphatic17 than even Lady Wyndover had anticipated, and she was basking18 in something of the glory which shone around her ward. As the guardian19 of one of the most beautiful, and the richest, and, what is more important still, the most successful of the débutantes, Lady Wyndover had suddenly risen from a position of comparative insignificance20 to one of great social value. There would now be no difficulty in filling her dinner-parties; there would be plenty of invitations to the best houses; plenty of partners, plenty of adulation and eager civility.
She was all in a little flutter of excitement, and the blood mantled21 in her powdered cheek, making the artistically22 applied23 rouge24 almost unnecessary, as she watched Esmeralda going through the last stages of her toilet under Barker’s experienced hands.
Every hour of the day her study of the girl grew more intense in its interest. She had never seen any girl like her, and Esmeralda’s manner and conduct completely upset all her preconceived theories. She had expected the girl to be confused, bewildered, overwhelmed by the novelty of her position. She had expected her to be painfully shy at times, and over-bold at others; but Esmeralda, though she had been suddenly plunged25 from the wilds of Australia into the whirlpool of society, seemed neither bewildered nor overwhelmed. She was not even shy; and, judging by her calmness, was not even dazzled by the sudden brilliance26 into which she had been thrust. And, strange to say, Lady Wyndover had actually overheard a certain illustrious personage, whose name may not be mentioned, describe Miss Chetwynde as “good form.”
Since the Blankyres’ party, Esmeralda had been receiving dancing lessons from a famous professor; and the famous professor had declared, with something like enthusiasm, that he had never had a more apt pupil. Although the lessons had been so few, Esmeralda, by dint27 of many hours’ practice, had acquired sufficient knowledge of the Lancers and the simple waltz to be able to accept a partner without any very serious misgivings28.
She had also learned other things; but there was one thing that Lady Wyndover could not teach her—she would not discriminate[104] between nobodies and somebodies; she was frank and pleasant with one and all, and smiled upon the veriest detrimental—especially if he were good-looking and agreeable—as freely as she did upon the most noble of the innumerable persons who were introduced to her. Esmeralda was, at any rate as yet, no respecter of persons. But Lady Wyndover hoped that this would come in time.
Esmeralda, on this evening, wore the second of her ball-dresses, and as Lady Wyndover declared, Madame Cerise’s taste had never been employed to better advantage. The dress was still too low to altogether please Esmeralda, but as she knew by her two nights’ experience that there were many still lower, she submitted. Their arrival at Lady Villiers’ created quite a little sensation. The well-dressed mob in a London ball-room does not shout or wave its handkerchief, but it can stare and whisper together; and in this, and in several other ways, it displayed its curiosity and interest. Esmeralda was very soon surrounded, and her card would have been filled up to the last item, but she reserved several spaces, notwithstanding the ardent29 protests which assailed30 her.
It was a much more brilliant ball than Lady Blankyre’s, and was semi-political in its character, for Lord Villiers was in the Cabinet, and there were members of both Houses present, with their belongings31. As Esmeralda whirled round the room with a tall guardsman, she was almost inclined to believe that the whole thing was a dream; or that Three Star camp was a dream, and this the reality into which she had awakened32. She had just got through the Lancers very creditably, and with that coolness which is born from perfect self-consciousness, when Lord Trafford entered. She noticed that he looked pale and tired, and as if he were anything but glad to be there; and she wondered why he had come. He stood for some time talking to Lord Villiers, and with his eyes bent33 on the floor, but suddenly he raised them, and caught her direct, speculative34 gaze. He bowed, and Esmeralda returned the greeting with her frank smile.
Her face was a little flushed with the dance, her eyes were glowing with a young girl’s delight in the rhythmical35 movement, the soft music, the brilliant scene. He could not deny her beauty, but he sighed as he thought of Ada Lancing, with her strained face and pain-stricken eyes. He did not go up to Esmeralda at once, and it was nearly an hour later when she found him by her side.
“You have been dancing, Miss Chetwynde, I see,” he said. “Have you a dance to give me, or am I too late?”
[105]
He held out his hand for her card, and after a moment’s hesitation36 she gave it to him.
“I am not engaged for all,” she said; “but I ought to tell you that I don’t dance very well. I’ve been practicing for hours at a time since I saw you last, but I’m very uncertain still; sometimes I lose the step, if my partner goes too fast, and then there’s trouble. I think you’d better ask some other lady to dance; you’ll enjoy it more; besides,” she added, na?vely, “you look tired, and as if you’d rather rest.” Her simplicity37 and appalling38 candor39 made him smile.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked.
“You have courage of all kinds,” he said. “To look tired is one of the unpardonable sins. Will you give me this next dance?”
“Yes; but don’t go too fast, please.”
He put his arm round her, and they started. Trafford danced as he did most things, perfectly40; and he had no difficulty in accommodating his step to her, now and again, uncertain one.
“We are getting on very well,” he said.
“Yes, that’s because you are taking such care to keep my step,” she said, shrewdly. “I can go a little faster, if you like.”
It seemed to him like dancing with a young school-girl, perfectly frank, and almost boyish. Somehow, he found, rather to his surprise, that he was enjoying it. When the music ceased she drew a little breath of enjoyment41.
“That was delicious,” she said. “I don’t wonder at people looking so happy at balls! But isn’t it hot?”
“Let us find a cool place,” he said. “You are engaged for this next dance, are you not?”
“Yes, I am; but if the gentleman comes, I’ll tell him that I’m too hot.”
“And he’ll go and shoot himself,” said Trafford, with a laugh.
“Will he?” said Esmeralda. “Now, in Three Star he’d have shot you.”
“Three Star?” asked Trafford.
“The place where I lived,” said Esmeralda, hastily.
He saw that she did not desire to give any further explanation, and he led her on to a balcony. On his way he found her wrap, and as they stood looking into the green park that lay beneath them, he put the wrap round her shoulders. Esmeralda leaned on the rails, and looked down with half-parted lips and thoughtful eyes.
[106]
“This is nice,” she said. “The air is so cool, and the trees look so green and fresh down there.” She leaned over the rail still further, and looked down, and watched the passers-by on the pavement below. Some of them paused a moment to listen to the music, some smiled, and a few glanced at the brilliantly lighted windows with a scowl42.
“How they must wish that they were here,” she said, musingly43.
Trafford had been looking at her, but as she spoke44 he came to her side and leaned over with her.
“What a lot of poor people there are in London,” she said; “and how they must hate us who have everything they haven’t got. It doesn’t seem fair. Now, why should you and I be beautifully dressed, and be dancing here while these poor people are trudging45 alone with, perhaps, not enough clothes to wear or food to eat?”
“Were there no poor people at Three Star, the place you came from?” he asked, amused by her socialism.
“Oh, yes,” she said; “but we were all together alike. It didn’t matter whether you were rich or poor; besides, you might be poor one day and rich the next; that was the fun of it. Now, these poor people can never be rich; there’s no gold for them to find. Look at that woman there—see, she’s just coming along—how thin and pale she looks, and cold, too, though it’s a warm night; she is hungry, I’m certain; I know the look! I should like to bring her in and take her in to that great supper-room, and make her eat as much as she could, and give her plenty of champagne46!”
He watched her face curiously47.
“I wonder whether she’d be angry if I gave her some money? Perhaps she’s got some children at home as hungry as she is!”
“It’s not unlikely,” he said.
“You think so?” she said, quickly. “I must give her something!” She felt round her dress hurriedly; then uttered an exclamation48 of impatience49 and disappointment. “I forgot!” she said; “these stupid dresses never have pockets. Give me some money; quick!”
Trafford felt in his pocket; but his man, in changing his master’s clothes, had forgotten to transfer the money.
“I’m sorry!” he said; “I haven’t any.”
“Bother!” she exclaimed. “I can’t be happy any more to-night if I don’t give her something.” She stamped her foot. “Can’t you get some? Oh, she’ll be passed before you get back!” The woman was almost beneath them.[107] Esmeralda, with a little cry of relief, unfastened one of her bracelets50, and bending over the rail, called softly to the woman. The woman looked up with a little start, and her face flushed nervously52 as she saw the girl, in her exquisite53 dress, looking down at her. Esmeralda nodded, and smiled encouragingly, held out the bracelet51 as far as her extended arm would allow, then, with a “This is for you!” dropped it at the woman’s feet. The woman started back slightly, then stood stock still, as if amazed.
“It’s for you—for you!” said Esmeralda. “Pick it up!”
For a moment or two the woman was unable to grasp the good fortune that had befallen her—literally befallen her; then she picked up the bracelet that had rolled into the gutter54, stared at it, gazed up at Esmeralda, and, as Esmeralda nodded smilingly, and called down, “Yes, it’s for you; you are to keep it,” the woman’s face broke up, as it were, and she burst into tears, caused as much by the shock as appreciation55 and gratitude56 for the gift. Her lips moved, and both Esmeralda and Trafford felt that she was saying, “God bless you.” She stood for a moment or two, then hurried on, but at the corner they saw her stop for a moment or two, and look back at them, as if she had not as yet even realized what had happened. Esmeralda turned to Trafford with a laugh, her eyes sparkling, her face and manner very much indeed like a school-girl.
“I wonder what she will do with it?” she said; “I hope she’ll sell it at once, and give those children a splendid supper; you said there were children, you know.”
“Yes,” he said. “You have made two women happy to-night, Miss Chetwynde.”
“Two?” she said, with surprise. “Oh, I see; you mean myself? Yes; somehow I do feel happy. I should have been miserable57 thinking of that woman’s pale face—and the children, too.”
“Wasn’t it rather a costly58 gift?” he said. “I noticed that the bracelet was a handsome one.”
She looked at her arm.
“It was only a plain gold one,” she laughed. “It was your fault; you ought to have had some money.”
“It was,” he admitted; “and I must atone59 for it. I must buy you another.”
He spoke half in jest, half in earnest.
“No, don’t, please,” she said, quite simply; “I’ve too many already. It takes Lady Wyndover and me half an hour to decide which I’m to wear. As if it mattered!”
[108]
“You don’t care?” he asked.
“No,” she said; “I liked them when they first came home; but I think they look prettier in the jeweler’s cases than anywhere else.”
“You would not find many persons to agree with you,” he said.
She took the compliment as coolly as if he had remarked that it was a fine evening.
“Would you like to go back now?” he asked.
“In a minute,” she replied, calmly. “It is beautiful out here, and it makes me think of the country, as you Londoners call places outside.”
“You miss the country, as we Londoners call it?” he said.
“Yes, sometimes,” she replied, very softly—“when I’ve time to think; but that isn’t often, it’s all such a whirl. It’s only when I’m lying awake that I think of Australia, and sometimes wish myself back. And then Barker comes in—that’s my maid—and tells me I must dress; and that we’ve got to go here, there, and everywhere; to buy this and that and everything; and all day there’s no time to think.”
He leaned with his back against the rail, and looked at her thoughtfully. Now, the lovely face was as pensive60 as that of a child. The charm of her utter self-unconsciousness, and ignorance of pose, and absence of straining after effect, was stealing over him; and when she said, “Now we’ll go in,” he started slightly, and, with something like reluctance61, took her hand upon his arm and led her back to the ball-room. As they entered they found themselves face to face with Lady Ada. She was with her partner in the last dance. The two couples stopped, and Trafford found himself, perhaps for the first time in his life, bereft62 of the power of speech. Lady Ada was very pale, and there were faint shadows under the blue eyes. He saw her lips tighten63 and the lids droop64, as if she were wincing65; then she recovered herself almost instantly, and, with a smile, as she returned his bow, said:
“Will you introduce me to Miss Chetwynde, Lord Trafford?”
Her partner bowed himself off, and the three were left alone.
Trafford made the introduction.
“But you have met Miss Chetwynde before, Lady Ada,” he said; “she is the lady who came to our rescue in the park the other day.”
A flush rose to Lady Ada’s face, then died away, leaving it paler than before.
“It was stupid and ungrateful of me not to remember you the other night,” she said. “Will you forgive me, Miss Chetwynde, and let me thank you again? I know you saved me from what might have been a very serious accident.”
There was no trace of her usual coldness and hauteur66 in her voice and manner; and when these were absent, Lady Ada was a very charming person indeed. By a look she indicated to Trafford that she wished him to leave her and Esmeralda together.
He hesitated a moment; he remembered Lady Ada’s words, “I will help you,” and he wondered what she was going to say to Esmeralda—what she was going to do. The fact of these two women being together, as if they were friends, was repugnant to him. However, he did what every man must do under such circumstances—obey. With a grim look on his face, he went.
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1
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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mantled
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| 披着斗篷的，覆盖着的 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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51
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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52
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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53
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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54
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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57
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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59
atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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60
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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62
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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63
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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64
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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65
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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