University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
NED MEETS WITH ALICE—“THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE,”
ETC.

The princely mansion of Madame R— was in a fashionable
blaze. The saloons, the halls, the conservatories,
were brilliantly illuminated, and glittering with gems.
Sparkling eyes vied with the costly jewels, and fair cheeks
emulated the beauty and freshness of the most exquisite
exotics. Fruits of every clime; delicacies of every land;
wine, music; the rustling of satin, and enchanting smiles,
abounded wherever one might turn.

Many hundreds of delighted mortals were assembled
within the capacious walls of the princely hostess. It was
a scene unequalled in the annals of American entertainments,
and the memory of it is destined to be preserved
in the traditions of fashionable circles in other lands as
well as our own. For many nations were represented—
and men who had feasted in the halls of royalty, declared
that monarchs alone might hope to rival such splendour.

And Ned Lorn, with no symptoms of trepidation on his
pale, composed face, and no misgiving as to the validity
of his right to associate upon an equality with the proudest
of those present, entered the spacious mansion with the
high-bred dowager, Mrs. Sword, clasping his manly arm.

Mrs. S. was intimately acquainted with hundreds of the
elite who were present on that occasion, and it seemed to
be a special purpose on her part to make known the merits
of her youthful gallant to as many of her friends as possible.
For this Ned had not been prepared, and all his native
immobility had to be brought in requisition to withstand
with composure the many unexpected compliments
that assailed him. He learned to his surprise that his sonnets
had been copied into papers he had not seen, and
were admired by the poets and poetesses generally with
whom he had the pleasure of meeting that evening. It
was for Mrs. S. to make known that the tall youth, with
the Grecian face of pallid hue, was the Abelard, whose
imagery, and the thrilling expressions of whose passion,
formed the theme of commendation among the discriminating
literati of the city.

Ned was ultimately relinquished to Miss B., who had
evinced a disposition to become his chaperon. She was
slightly his senior in years, and although she had perhaps
no intention or inclination to form a matrimonial project,
yet she had a passion for poets and poetry, and seemed to
take pleasure in attending our hero in the rounds of the
gay establishment. She repeated every poetical sentiment
that had been met with in her reading, which might be
suggested by the objects before them, or applied to any
incident occurring in their presence. And Ned was
forced to draw upon his memory for responses. This continued
for more than an hour, while they moved at a gentle
pace from one scene of enjoyment to another, and new
ones were constantly presented to the view. And if Ned
could not be regardless of the many eyes turned upon him
as he moved along, having at his side the beautiful, the
accomplished, the aristocratic and wealthy Miss B., still
he was conscious of a hitherto ungratified desire which had
never been absent from his thoughts since he first resolved
to be present on that memorable occasion. It was his
wish to meet with Alice. He knew she was present, for
Miss B., had told him so, and had proposed to introduce
him. And upon remarking that he was already acquainted
with her, Miss B. had evinced some emotion of curiosity,
inasmuch as she had just been expatiating on her beauty.
But as yet they had not seen any of the Lonsdales.

It was when Ned was almost ready to despair, that he
beheld Alice at a short distance clinging to the arm of Mr.
Lonsdale, her stepfather. They were in a counter-current
of promenaders, a parallel line, but separated by an intervening
area in the centre of the room. Their eyes met;
and Ned thought he had never beheld his divinity looking
so beautiful. Her face was apparently flushed with the
hue of health, and her eyes radiant with pleasure.

A brief recognition, unobserved by Miss B. and others,
was all that could be accomplished in their quick exchange
of glances. They passed on in opposite directions, and
soon met again, in the same manner. But what a change!
The rose upon the cheek of Alice had fled, and in its place
was the spotless lily. So deadly pale, so anxious were her
looks, that Ned was painfully startled, and so completely
abstracted by his conjectures, that Miss B. was almost entirely
disregarded. Alice observed his trepidation, and
averted her face. But his eyes never ceased to follow her
from that moment. Every obstacle was overcome in his
progress, until he found himself but a few paces in her
rear, and pursuing the same direction. So energetic had
been his progress, that Miss B., under some pretext, supposing
him to be pursuing another object, found an opportunity
to withdraw, and he was left without embarrassment
to direct his steps whithersoever his fancy might lead
him.

With inexpressible delight he saw Mr. Lonsdale and
Alice separate from the throng, and retire towards an obscure
recess. There they parted; Alice turning to an
ottoman, and her step-father striding towards the rooms
occupied exclusively by the gentlemen.

Ned approached. Alice held out her hand, and smiled
—her cheeks still as white as alabaster. The meeting was
mutually kind and affectionate, as of old.

“Your mother, Alice—where is she?”

“At home. She was not quite well.”

“And you—you do not seem to be in good health.”

“I am quite well—but—”

“Why so pale?”

“Am I very pale?”

“Indeed you are! Tell me why it is so. You hesitated

after saying your health was quite good. Alice, tell me—
tell me—” She had risen; and placing her hand on his
arm, he led her through an alcove into the conservatory,
where amid the blossoming shrubbery and the pendent
fruit jutting over their shoulders, they were enabled to converse
in low murmurs for some moments, unobserved by
the many other lovers engaged in similar communications.

Ned learned that, however robust Alice might be in
bodily health, she had great uneasiness of mind; and the
depression of her spirits had been so complete, that nothing
but the hope of meeting him, had induced her to appear
at Madame R—'s magnificent entertainment. The
cause of her painful anxiety was the persecution of an ill-bred
nephew of Mr. Lonsdale, whose suit was encouraged
by her step-father. Her mother did not have the courage
to remonstrate, although she abhorred the booby as much
as did her more spirited daughter. She said her step-father
was so positive and peremptory in all his demands
that it was impossible to avoid a compliance with his
slightest wishes without giving offence. And she had been
under the necessity of declining the honour tendered her,
which was perhaps the wish nearest his heart. Hence the
storm of indignant passion which had so much distressed
her mind. But remaining firm in the position she had assumed,
Mr. Lonsdale had abated his dogmatical fierceness,
and adopted a conciliatory policy. He had even proposed
a great “rebound” to Madame R—'s party, in honour of
his step-daughter, provided she would manifest some gratitude
in behalf of the hook-nosed red-haired booby, Mr.
Charles Mellen!

The lovers were joined by Mrs. Sword, who was much
diverted at a scene she had just witnessed. It was Mr.
Lonsdale and his nephew, seeking in vain, and inquiring
of everybody, for Alice. Without observing the effect of
this announcement on the shivering girl, the merry dowager
proceeded to mimic the mock-dignified interrogatories of
the uncle, and the awkward demeanor of the nephew.

While thus engaged the uncle made his appearance, and
approached the group unobserved. Stepping up behind,
he disengaged the arm of Alice and drew it through his
own, uttering, as he dragged her away, but without turning
his head, “I beg pardon, sir.”

“At last you are restored to me!” said Mrs. S., taking
Ned's arm.

Ned was stricken dumb at the rude occurrence, so unexpected,
and so contrary to his wishes. He stood gazing at
the receding form of Alice, and meditating a fearful retribution
for Mr. Lonsdale. He was not easily moved to
anger. His nature was inoffensive, and his education had
been in the school of peace and good will to man. But
young Love can revolutionize one's nature in a moment,
and scatter to the winds the most predetermined equanimity.
After a considerable pause, and during which no
doubt the ebullition of his fierce passions had time to subside
in a measure, the young man nevertheless gave vent
to this expression:

“Cool impudence!”

“Is that meant for me?” asked Mrs. S. with a mocking
smile, and pretending to make an effort to withdraw from
him. He held her, however, securely, convulsively, and
perhaps unconsciously.

“Oh, no! You know it was not. But you witnessed
the conduct of that brute. I must see him again!”

“Ha—ha—ha! It was abruptly done. What did he
mean?”

“That is precisely what he must answer to me. I shall
demand—”

“No, no; let him alone. How can he know what is
civil and proper? He sought his wife's daughter, found
her, and seized her. Who can demur to that?”

“I can—and she can.”

“Indeed!”

“And I will!”

“Let us join the promenade. We are too lugubrious
here.” Mrs. S. did not see proper to interfere in the
affair. If Ned should call the capitalist to an account, it
would be nothing more than one of those little interludes
in the drama of existence, with which she had been made
familiar during the lifetime of her husband.

It so happened that Ned once more encountered Lonsdale
that night. They met in the crowd, passing quickly
in different directions. But our lover had found time to
whisper in the ear of the proud step-father, the very significant

words: “You will hear from me!” Lonsdale's
face changed colour several times in the space of a few
minutes, and his frame seemed to be the victim of an excessive
agitation.

Ned was calm; always pale; but now the impersonation
of deliberate resolve. Nevertheless he exerted himself successfully
to be as gay and vivacious as ever during the remainder
of the evening.