About midday Mrs. Harrington arrived with a little party of friends; she would not allow Mellen to escape her till she had overwhelmed him with compliments and congratulations, all of which he received with becoming resignation. When they went upstairs she said to Elsie: "I haven't seen anything of that mysterious creature, North, in an age; what can have become of him?" "Horrid creature," cried Elsie, "don't mention his name! Now, Mary Harrington, don't forget for once in your life! If Grant knew that we had even one visit from a stranger he would be furious; if you let it out neither Elizabeth or I will ever speak to you again." "My dear, I won't open my lips." "Mind you don't, that's all; if you do, I'll be even with you, as sure as my name is Elsie." "You need not be so ferocious." "Oh, I hate to be scolded, and Grant would be dreadfully angry! I promised Bessie I would warn you, so be sure and remember." "I'll swear it if you like." "Bless me, don't be tragic! The matter is of no consequence to me, only Bess makes such a point of it; besides that, I dread to see Grant angry." "He never could be angry with you," said Mrs. Harrington. "Well, it would be just as bad if he scolded her." "How good you are!" cried the widow. "You are just the dearest thing in the world." "Of course I am; but there's no use in standing here to say pretty things to each other, for there is no one to hear." "Oh, you odd creature!" laughed Mrs. Harrington. "But, really, that man was the strangest, fascinating person—" "There you go!" interrupted Elsie angrily. "My dear, there is no one in the room but ourselves." "I don't care if there is not; I don't want to hear that man's name." "I can't see why you dislike him so," pursued the widow. "It always seemed to me that he and Elizabeth treated each other oddly—" Elsie interrupted her, quite pale with anger. "Mary Harrington," said she, "if you and I are to remain friends, stop this instant. I won't hear another word, nor must the subject come up again." Mrs. Harrington was quite subdued by her friend's vehemence, and dropped the matter without another allusion to the forbidden subject. When they went downstairs after the rest of the party were assembled, Mellen began laughing at the widow about the conquest she had made of Mr. Rhodes. "Isn't it delicious?" she cried. "I just want you to see us together—it is better than a play." "And Jemima's spite is something to witness," added Elsie. "I know she will poison you yet, Mary Harrington." "I am on the watch constantly," replied the widow. "I don't even engage a strange servant now for fear it should be one of the old maid's secret emissaries." "You are as badly off as the Duke of Buckingham," said Mellen, laughing at Mrs. Harrington's pretended distress. "It is dreadful, I assure you," she said, shaking her plumage of lace and gauze; "but it is very amusing, nevertheless." "Of course, if you can annoy somebody," answered Mellen; "that is the very acme of female happiness." "Oh, you barbarous creature!" cried the widow. "Ain't you ashamed to utter such atrocious sentiments! Mrs. Mellen, your husband has come back a perfect savage." Everybody laughed—it never occurred to the widow it could be at her own airs and affectations, which were a very clumsy imitation of Elsie's childish grace; she was too thoroughly satisfied with her own powers of fascination to suppose it possible, even for an instant, that she could become a subject of amusement. "After all, it is tiresome to inspire a grande passion," said she, with a theatrical drawl. "No woman ought to be better able to decide," cried Elsie; "you have made enough in all conscience." "Oh, dear, no!" said the widow. "Don't deny it," said Elsie, who never scrupled to make sport of her most intimate friends, and with all her fondness for Mrs. Harrington was always leading her on to do and say the most absurd things. Elsie was in the most extravagant spirits, and had been ever since her brother's return. She flitted about the house like a beautiful elf, and Elizabeth could see that Mellen watched her every movement, his face kindling with affection and each look a caress. "He has not changed," she thought, sadly; "all his tender words to me came only from the first pleasure of finding himself at home." Then she began to shudder, as she often did now when the icy chill of some stern thought crept over her. "Better so," she muttered; "what should I do with love and affection—what right have I to expect them from him or any one on earth. Is not my whole life a lie." But she banished these reflections quickly, determined to have at least a few days of perfect freedom from anxieties, a little season of peace and rest, in which her tired soul might restore its strength, like a seabird reposing on the sunlit bosom of some inland lake after the exhaustion of a long and perilous flight amid storms and tempests. Mellen, too, had laid by the suspicions which the strange circumstances connected with his return had caused, and appeared, as he could always, when so disposed, the most charming host possible. Elizabeth sunned her heart in the smile which lighted up his face whenever their eyes met, and kept the dark shadows resolutely aloof from her mind. She was determined to be happy in spite of fate. "Peace and rest!" she murmured. "I need them so much. I will have them at any cost." The day passed as such days usually do, when all parties are amused; and though the conversation might not have been such as altogether suited the intellectual tastes of Mellen and his wife, they were too well-bred for any expression of distaste, and Elsie made even nonsense charming by her brilliant sallies and buoyant spirits. The widow had not forgotten her old ambition to fascinate Mellen, and her efforts were highly amusing to the lookers-on. She was in doubt whether he preferred the queenly manner and repose of Elizabeth or the arch grace and exuberant gayety of his sister, and attempted airs which she considered a happy medium between the two, and a most fortunate result followed. Her efforts to support the double character delighted Elsie immensely, who, with the usual good-nature of intimate friends, made as much sport of her before her very face as she dared to venture on in Mellen's presence. |