30. CHAPTER XXX.
CHECK.
During these brilliant days of young bachelorhood Abel, by
some curious chance, had not met Hope Wayne, who was passing
the winter in New York with her Aunt Dinks, and who
had hitherto declined all society. It was well known that she
was in town. The beautiful Boston heiress was often enough
the theme of discourse among the youth at Abel's rooms.
“Is she really going to marry that Dinks? Why, the man's
a donkey!” said Corlaer Van Boozenberg.
“And are there no donkeys among your married friends?”
inquired Abel, with the air of a naturalist pursuing his researches.
One day, indeed, as he was passing Stewart's, he saw Hope
alighting from a carriage. He was not alone; and as he
passed their eyes met. He bowed profoundly. She bent her
[ILLUSTRATION]
Shopping, Et Cætera.
[Description: 538EAF. Page 179. In-line Illustration. Image of two men and a woman. The woman is curtseying, and one man has removed his hat and is bowing his head. The other man wears his hat on his head.]
head without speaking, as one acknowledges a slight acquaintance.
It was not a “cut,” as Abel said to himself; “not at
all. It was simply ranking me with the herd.”
“Who's that stopping to speak with her?” asked Corlaer,
as he turned back to see her.
“That's Arthur Merlin. Don't you know? He's a painter.
I wonder how the deuce he came to know her!”
In fact, it was the painter. It was the first time he had
met her since the summer days of Saratoga; and as he stood
talking with her upon the sidewalk, and observed that her
cheeks had an unusual flush, and her manner a slight excitement,
he could not help feeling a secret pleasure—feeling, in
truth, so deep a delight, as he looked into that lovely face,
that he found himself reflecting, as he walked away, how very
fortunate it was that he was so entirely devoted to his art. It
is very fortunate indeed, thought he. And yet it might be a
pity, too, if I should chance to meet some beautiful and sympathetic
woman; because, being so utterly in love with my art,
it would be impossible for me to fall in love with her! Quite
impossible! Quite out of the question!
Just as he thought this he bumped against some one, and
looked up suddenly. A calm, half-amused face met his glance,
as Arthur said, hastily, “I beg your pardon.”
“My pardon is granted,” returned the gentleman; “but
still you had better look out for yourself.”
“Oh! I shall not hit any body else,” said Arthur, as he
bowed and was passing on.
“I am not speaking of other people,” replied the other, with
a look which was very friendly, but very puzzling.
“Whom do you mean, then?” asked Arthur Merlin.
“Yourself, of course,” said the gentleman with the half-amused
face.
“How?” inquired Arthur.
“To guard against Venus rising from the fickle sea, or Hope
descending from a carriage,” rejoined his companion, putting
out his hand.
Arthur looked surprised, and, could he have resisted the
face of his new acquaintance, he would have added indignation
to his expression. But it was impossible.
“To whom do I owe such excellent advice?”
“To Lawrence Newt,” answered that gentleman, putting
out his hand. “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Arthur Merlin.”
The painter shook the merchant's hand cordially. They
had some further conversation, and finally Mr. Merlin turned,
and the two men strolled together down town. While they
yet talked, Lawrence Newt observed that the eyes of his companion
studied every carriage that passed. He did it in a
very natural, artless way; but Lawrence Newt smiled with
his eyes, and at length said, as if Arthur had asked him the
question, “There she comes!”
Arthur was a little bit annoyed, and said, suddenly, and with
a fine air of surprise, “Who?”
Lawrence turned and looked him full in the face; upon
which the painter, who was so fanatically devoted to his art
that it was clearly impossible he should fall in love, said, “Oh!”
as if somebody had answered his question.
The next moment both gentlemen bowed to Hope Wayne,
who passed with Mrs. Dinks in her carriage.
“Who are those gentlemen to whom you are bowing,
Hope?” Mrs. Dinks asked, as she saw her niece lean forward
and blush as she bowed.
“Mr. Merlin and Mr. Lawrence Newt,” replied Hope.
“Oh, I did not observe.”
After a while she said, “Don't you think, Hope, you could
make up your mind to go to Mrs. Kingfisher's ball next week?
You know you haven't been out at all.”
“Perhaps,” replied Hope, doubtfully.
“Just as you please, dear. I think it is quite as well to
stay away if you want to. Your retirement is very natural,
and proper, and beautiful, under the circumstances, although it
is unusual. Of course I don't fully understand. But I have
perfect confidence in the justice of your reasons.”
Mrs. Dinks looked at Hope tenderly and sagaciously as she
said this, and smiled meaningly.
Hope was entirely bewildered. Then a sudden apprehension
shot through her mind as she thought of what her aunt
had said. She asked suddenly and a little proudly,
“What do you mean by `circumstances,' aunt?”
Mrs. Dinks was uneasy in her turn. But she pushed bravely
on, and said kindly,
“Why on earth shouldn't I know why you are unwilling to
have it known, Hope? You know I am as still as the grave.”
“Have what known, aunt?” asked Hope.
“Why, dear,” replied Mrs. Dinks, confused by Hope's air
of innocence, “your engagement, of course.”
“My engagement?” said Hope, with a look of utter amazement;
“to whom, I should like to know?”
Mrs. Dinks looked at her for an instant, and asked, in a
clear, dry tone:
“Are you not engaged to Alfred?”
Hope Wayne's look of anxious surprise melted into an expression
of intense amusement.
“To Alfred Dinks!” said she, in a slow, incredulous tone, and
with her eyes sparkling with laughter. “Why, my dear aunt?”
Mrs. Dinks was overwhelmed by a sudden consciousness of
bitter disappointment, mingled with an exasperating conviction
that she had been somehow duped. The tone was thick
in which she answered.
“What is the meaning of this? Hope, are you deceiving
me?”
She knew Hope was not deceiving her as well as she knew
that they were sitting together in the carriage.
Hope's reply was a clear, ringing, irresistible laugh. Then
she said,
“It's high time I went to balls, I see. I will go to Mrs.
Kingfisher's. But, dear aunt, have you seriously believed such
a story?”
“Do I think my son is a liar?” replied Mrs. Dinks, sardonically.
The laugh faded from Hope's face.
“Did he say so?” asked she.
“Certainly he did.”
“Alfred Dinks told you I was engaged to him?”
“Alfred Dinks told me you were engaged to him.”
They drove on for some time without speaking.
“What does he mean by using my name in that way?” said
Hope, with the Diana look in her eyes.
“Oh! that you must settle with him,” replied the other.
“I'm sure I don't know.”
And Field-marshal Mrs. Dinks settled herself back upon the
seat and said no more. Hope Wayne sat silent and erect by
her side.
