The night arrived at last in which
Lady Carset was to do the honors of her own castle,
and receive the highest and brightest of the land in
person. A range of boudoirs and saloons,
connected with the state drawing-room, were thrown
together, and united in one splendid vista by silken
draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble
wreaths and arches over each entrance, filling room
after room with brightness and fragrance.
The conservatories had been stripped
that night, that their treasures of rare exotics might
brighten the splendor of those rooms, and soften the
ancestral grandeur of the vast entrance hall.
They wound in massive wreaths around the carved balustrades
of that broad oaken staircase were duplicated
over and over again in the height and breadth of those
noble mirrors. They formed a blooming border around
the oaken floors, black with age and bright with polish,
of the dancing-rooms. The gilded orchestras were
interlaced with them, and, in every group of plants
or clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like
stars, casting tremulous shadows from the leaves,
and lending a richer color to the blossoms.
When the first carriage load of guests
came sweeping across the stone terrace, Lady Carset
left her dressing-room, and, leaning on the arm of
Lord Hope, took her place in the central drawing-room,
with gentle dignity, and stood, with the gaslight
quivering around her, touching up the richness of
her purple garments with golden ripples of light, and
striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds,
which held, and gathered up the woven moonlight of
her lace shawl on those dainty, sloping shoulders
and delicate bust, which had not known such ornaments
for years. A ripple of these noble jewels ran
through the soft waves of her hair, and held the tuft
of Marchant feathers and lappets of gossamer lace
back from her left temple, whence they floated off
gently into the snow of her hair, scarcely whiter
than it was. A lovelier representative of the
grandest aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady
of the olden times, had never, since its foundation,
done the honors of Houghton Castle. But the sweet
old lady was already forced to exert all her strength,
that nothing should fall short of the old hospitality
on this the last fête she ever expected to give.
Lady Clara had followed her, half
dancing, half floating down that broad staircase,
jerking blossoms from the plants as she went, and forming
them into a tiny bouquet for her grandmother.
Her dress was just one cloud of silvery whiteness.
A little cluster of moss rose buds on the left shoulder,
and another in her belt, were all the ornaments she
wore. She had insisted, with almost passionate
vehemence, that no mention of her heirship should
be made that night, and the old lady consented with
reluctance, but appeased her own impatience by a grand
festival to all her tenants and retainers in the park,
where nothing had been omitted which, in feudal times,
was considered proper when the heirship of Houghton
was proclaimed. Still, in words, the old lady
had kept honorable silence, and no one, even from
the grandeur of the entertainment, had a right to
more than guess that the general heirship was settled
on Lord Hope’s daughter.
In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly
given to Lord and Lady Hope, and the old countess
had taken up the sparkling weight of all those Carset
jewels, that all the world might know that they had
come back honorably into her own possession.
It was a splendid and most delicate way of acknowledging
herself in the wrong.
Before the guests had commenced to
arrive in any numbers, Lady Hope came floating into
the state drawing-room, with a noble cactus flower
sweeping backwards from the left side of her head,
and resting upon the massive braids of her hair, which
curved upwards like a helmet, from her neck almost
to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled
her neck and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom,
but forming a bold contrast to the amber silk of her
dress, which swept far back upon the polished floor,
and took the light as birds of Paradise fling off
sunshine from their plumage. A beautiful and right
queenly personage was Rachael Closs that night, as
she moved across the floor and took her place by the
little countess, who looked up and smiled gently when
she saw that Lord Hope’s wife appeared in the
old family rubies, which she had presented to her
that morning.
One bright glance at Clara, another
of sparkling triumph at Lord Hope, and Rachael gave
herself up to the brilliant duties that lay before
her. This night was to be the crowning success
of her life.
The guests swept through the great
entrance, and into the drawing-room now, in crowds
and groups. Music sounded from half a dozen gilded
orchestras, and the oaken floors of that old castle
began to tremble under the feet of many dancers, as
they kept time to the music, and sent out a soft undertone
of conversation.
Lord Hope opened the ball with the
elite of the elite. Lord Hilton led Lady Clara
into the same set, at which the old countess nodded
her head and smiled. She observed that the young
nobleman bent his head, and looking in the bright
face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to her,
at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up
her fan, that no one might observe how pleased she
was.
This was what Hilton was saying:
“And she would not come down,
fearing to meet me? This is hard, Lady Clara!”
“No,” answered the girl,
reaching out her hand for a ladies’ chain, and
breaking from it in haste. “It is not altogether
that; she says that it is impossible to be of us that
her birth forbids it, and any attempt at equality
could only end in humiliation. I cannot persuade
her out of this idea: entreat as I would, she
refused utterly to come down. Then I got grandmamma
to urge it, and she did it beautifully, but it was
no use; and there the poor darling sits all alone,
hearing the music and our voices, as prisoners in
their cells listen to bird songs through windows in
the walls. It is cruel! Why can’t people
be born all alike, and go up and down according to
their own merits, I wonder?”
“That is an American idea.
You must have picked it up there in your infancy,
Lady Clara.”
“I should not wonder. Some
day I mean to go back there and see what social equality
is like.”
“Oh, you will find no place
on earth where your title will be of so much value,
Lady Clara,” said Hilton, laughing.
“Well, that is because the Americans
respect history, and associate us with the great deeds
of mutual ancestors. It is the romance of tradition
that interests them; for they are great readers, these
Americans, and know more of us, as a people, than
we do of ourselves. We represent the warriors
and the statesmen which they have clothed in the poetry
of great deeds. If the nobility of this day disappoints
them it is our own fault. When they learn that
our greatness consists only in titles, we shall have
little homage merely for them.”
“What a strange little creature you are!”
“Yes, rather. It is our turn now.”
After a little there was another long
pause in the dance. Then Hilton went back to
the subject nearest to his heart.
“You could not possibly persuade
her to come down not here, but into some
of the less public rooms?” he said.
“Impossible. She would not think of it.”
“Cruel!”
“Yes, I think so; but then, I would do exactly
the same thing.”
“What makes you start so, Clara?”
“Don’t you see? There
is Mr. Closs going up to grandmamma, and papa standing
close by her. Why, Lord Hope is speaking to him!
How good! how kind! They are both smiling; now,
now, do look on mamma Rachael’s face she
sees them, and happiness makes her splendid! He
is coming this way. Understand now, I shall dance
with him just as often as I can, and you are to help
me if I get into any trouble. Thank Heaven, this
set is over!”
“You are complimentary,” laughed Lord
Hilton.
“So I am; but you don’t
mind it. Here he is. Let me introduce you
before he takes me off. Lord Hilton, Mr. Closs.”
The next moment Clara was whirling
through the room, with Hepworth Closs’ arm around
her waist, and her hand on his shoulder. She kept
her word, and spent half her evening with him, managing
to escape observation as much as possible, and thus
secured a few hours of supreme happiness.
Lord Hope had received his brother-in-law
with gentlemanly ease. How could he help it,
not being master at Houghton?
Besides, he was disposed to cast off
all responsibility with regard to his daughter’s
choice of a husband, and leave everything to the judgment
and pride of the old countess, who happened to like
Closs, and was not aware how much of that evening
he spent with her grandchild.
Rachael was in ecstasies. She
loved her brother dearly, and his apparent reconciliation
with her husband lifted the last cloud from her heart.
It seemed to her that night as if she had nothing
to wish for.
The old countess stood to her post
bravely, until after the supper-rooms had been thrown
open and the gay crowds had passed in and out again;
but when the dancing had recommenced and the conversation
around her grew brilliant and a little confusing,
she turned suddenly pale, and would have fallen, but
that Lady Clara, who stood near, sprang forward and
threw both arms around her.
“She is better; she can walk
now. I will go with her,” cried the excited
young creature. “Papa, you shall help her
up-stairs, then I will take care of her,” she
added, seeing how helpless the old lady was.
Lord Hope almost carried the old lady
up-stairs. Then Clara called aloud for Caroline
Brown, who came out from her chamber, and, between
them, they led the old countess into the tower-room.