CHAPTER XIV.
A DANCE AT CRESCENT BEACH.
A very merry party of people assembled at the manor on Saturdayevening. Nathalie flitted about among them with dancing feet andshining eyes, and one and all caught the spirit of her contagiousenthusiasm.
"Oh, what a lark it is," she cried. "It is full moon to-night, andeverything has gone right from beginning to end."
"The end is not yet, Miss Nathalie," Farr said to her with a faintsmile.
She shrugged her shoulders and laughed light-heartedly.
"Don't be cynical. It is a bad habit."
"The moon is rising," interposed Jean, turning about from the opendoorway. "It is too lovely to stay indoors."
A hush fell upon them as they followed her out upon the veranda.Sentences left unfinished, gay laughter checked on the lips, paidtribute to the impressive beauty of the scene. Far away in the eastthe moon, with slow and stately grace, lifted its splendor above thedark line of the horizon. Against its flaming glory were sharplydefined the somber trunks of sturdy oaks and spreading elms. Seenbetween their leafy branches lay the Sound, obscured a moment sinceby an impenetrable veil of darkness, but reflecting now on itsrippling surface the golden light of the rising orb. The night airpulsed with the cheery chirp of the cricket, the monotonous chant ofthe katy-did. Softly the south wind blew rustling among the trees andshrubs.
Nathalie was the first to speak. Her quick ear had caught the sound ofwheels.
"Here comes the stage at last. Do let us get off right away."
"Is everyone here?" queried Mrs. Andrews, looking around on the bevyof pretty girls with a smile of complacent satisfaction.
"Everyone but Lillian," Helen answered. "We may as well begin to takeour places. She will be down in a few moments."
Already the stage had backed up before the door, and Jean was amongthe first to run lightly down the broad flight of steps. Farr stood atthe foot, and as he held out his hand to assist her, she saw that hewas regarding her sadly. There was no time for words, the others wereflocking down the steps behind them. She turned her eyes to meet hiswith a plaintive, almost appealing smile. She thought they must havespoken for her, for ere he released her hand he gave it a quickpressure.
It was some few moments before Miss Stuart made her appearance. Shedescended the steps slowly, with no suggestion of haste. Farr heldopen the door for her to enter.
"Come up here by me, Lillian," Helen called to her from the other endof the stage, but she did not seem to hear the request, and slippedinto a seat near the door.
Farr sprang lightly in, but as he would have passed her she laid adetaining hand on his arm.
"There is plenty of room here," she said, indicating the place besideher, and he had no alternative but to take it.
The other men crowded past them, and as the stage lurched forward,Cliff Archer dropped into a seat between Jean and Eleanor.
"A great deal of strength is wasted in undue haste," he observedlazily. "I find that laggards invariably prosper."
"What heresy, Cliff," laughed Eleanor softly, with an expressiveglance in Miss Stuart's direction.
Cliff appealed to Jean.
"Can you imagine anything more barefaced than that attempt to extort acompliment. From a sheer sense of duty I feel compelled to disappointher."
He stopped abruptly, struck by the expression of Jean's face. She hadevidently not heard his words, for she was staring straight before herwith strained, unseeing eyes. Her mouth was compressed with a look ofsuffering in the lines. Cliff was very fond of Jean. He knew herbetter than the other girls, for she and Eleanor were such fastfriends. He did not stop to ponder on the cause of her unhappiness,but hastily resolved to shield her if possible. Eleanor leaned forwardto speak to her across him, but he brought his slender figure betweenthem.
"You can talk to Jean all day, and every day. It is my turn to-night,my dear, and I intend to monopolize you to my heart's content."
When Cliff spoke in that tone Eleanor knew there was no appeal to bemade, so she yielded the point at once with very good grace.
As the stage jolted lumberingly on its way, Jean saw nothing of thebeauty of the night, heard nothing of the merry laughter, the gaysnatches of song which reverberated around her. It was, perhaps, atrifling circumstance that Farr had seated himself quite at the otherend of the stage, and at Miss Stuart's side, but to Jean, in herunhappy state of mind, it meant a great deal. To her the interchangeof glances a few moments since had been tantamount to a truce betweenthem. She had been so sure that Farr would make an effort to secure aplace beside her that she had purposely crowded up in the corner,leaving a space for him between Eleanor and herself. Her humiliationwas poignant, complete. The wound to vanity was beneficial in itseffect, rousing all her self-respect, and determining her to hide thetruth from Farr at all hazards.
"I must be brave," she said to herself resolutely. "I must let him seethat I am happy and light-hearted," and she closed her lips firmly tostill their quivering. She was quite mistress of herself by the timethe hotel was reached.
The Maynards, with their friends the Endicotts, awaited them on thebrilliantly lighted veranda, and as they descended from the stage withmerry jest and laughter, Maynard left his wife's side and ran down thesteps to welcome them. He was a good-looking man, with a particularlycharming and cordial manner. He had never given much thought to theHetherford girls; in his mind he stigmatized them as provincial anduninteresting; but to-night, as Jean, standing in the full glare ofthe hotel office, unwound the scarf from around her neck, and flungback her wrap, an exclamation of surprise rose to his lips.
Jean was, indeed, looking very lovely. There were faint shadows underthe deep blue eyes, the sweet mouth drooped slightly, lending newbeauty and depth of expression to her face. Maynard hastened to offerher his arm, and they moved slowly down the long hall to the entranceof the ball-room. The music had just begun when Farr's voice fell onJean's ears. At his first words she turned a startled face toward him:
"Miss Lawrence, I believe this is our dance. Sorry to deprive you,Maynard," and before Jean could recover from her astonishment, Maynardhad bowed himself away and Farr was smiling gravely down at her.
"Please don't be angry, Miss Jean. 'Nothing venture nothing have,' youknow, and I have had so little lately."
Jean looked up at him helplessly at a loss for an answer.
"I want the waltz very much," he added in a tone of pleading.
She laughed a bit unsteadily.
"Why, of course, I will dance with you, although I must confess yourmode of asking me is very strange."
"'All is fair in----' Which is it, Jean?" he asked softly as they fellinto the measure of the waltz.
She dropped her eyes, glad that at present no reply was required ofher. When the last strain had died away, Farr drew her hand throughhis arm, and they threaded their way among the crowd out into the coolhall-way.
"Is this your wrap?" he queried, selecting one from the number thatwere thrown across a chair. "Now let us go outside for a littlestroll."
They made their way out on to the little veranda, which on this sideof the hotel was built on a ledge of rocks, and overhung the waters ofCrescent Bay. Avoiding the rank and file of dancers, who were nowpromenading slowly up and down, they crossed to the railing and stoodthere gazing silently before them. In the harbor below myriads ofboats lay at anchor, all gayly decorated in honor of the occasion.Further out the moon's bright radiance fell softly on the tremulouswaves, and across its golden sheen a white-winged yacht sped silentlyon its way.
By and by, Jean roused herself with a slight effort:
"What Philistinism it is to illuminate the veranda with those uglylanterns. Their flaring light quite spoils the effect of themoonlight."
Her poor little commonplace attempt to open the conversation met withdisastrous failure. Farr muttered inattentively "Yes, indeed," andrelapsed into silence again.
In the long pause that ensued the monotonous splash of the wavesag
ainst the rocks below sounded deliciously cool and refreshing. Arowboat shot out from the pier, skimming the darkened waters underthe lea of the shore.
Farr drew nearer to Jean and spoke with deep earnestness:
"We cannot take up the thread of the past, Miss Jean, with thisconstraint between us, but I am not willing to let it go without anattempt at an explanation. Will you not tell me what I have done tohave forfeited your friendship?"
Jean's head was bent, her few words of dissent almost inaudible. Farrinterrupted her in a voice that was both pained and stern.
"Please don't deny it. I cannot have forfeited the right to yourhonesty. Did I presume too much on your great kindness to me, Jean?"
"No, oh no!" she cried hastily, with a little break in her voice."Indeed you must not think that."
A man's step approached them, and stopped at Jean's side.
"Miss Lawrence," Maynard's voice said, "the next waltz is ours. ShallI find you here?"
"Why, certainly," she replied with a forced laugh. "I shall notvanish."
"I wanted to assure myself of the pleasure. One is easily lost amongall these people," he answered lightly, as he turned away.
Farr's face darkened.
"What right has Maynard to monopolize you?" he demanded savagely. "Heis a married man, and not a man----"
It was an unwise speech, and he broke off abruptly convicted of hisfolly by the expression in Jean's unflinching eyes.
"You forget that Mr. Maynard is our host, Mr. Farr," she said coldly.
After a moment she added more gently:
"I did not want you to say anything that you would regret. I should besorry to hear you speak ill of a friend. It is not like you."
The simple words touched Farr, and made him feel ashamed of himself.
"I beg your pardon," he said contritely. "I was a brute to speak so.The truth is, I am not myself, and have not been during the whole ofthis miserable week. I seem never to have the chance to speak withyou, and I have tortured myself with the thought that it has been yourdeliberate purpose to avoid me."
The opening bars of the waltz, and Maynard's approach, cut short hiswords. Slowly the trio forced their way through the moving crowd untilthey had gained the entrance to the ball-room. Farr stood listlesslyin the doorway as Maynard whirled Jean away from him across thepolished floor. Some minutes later, someone touched his elbow and heturned with a start to meet Miss Stuart's eyes:
"Val, let us dance together 'for auld lang syne.'"
"With pleasure," he assented abstractedly, for as she spoke he hadcaught a glimpse of Jean disappearing through one of the long windowswhich gave on the veranda. Miss Stuart's glance followed his, and hereyes flashed. The carelessness of his reply hurt her cruelly.
"I will make Jean suffer for this," she vowed, as with throbbingheart she took her place among the dancers.
Later, as they passed through the doorway, they encountered Jean andMaynard re-entering the room. Miss Stuart first caught sight of them.She raised her glorious eyes to her companion's face, and spoke in avoice carefully pitched to reach Jean's ears:
"Yes, indeed, Val, it is pleasant to dance together again. It bringsback those bygone happy days so forcibly."
They were abreast of the other couple now, and Farr halted. MissStuart's speech had quite escaped him, absorbed as he was in watchingJean, so he was entirely unprepared for her reception of him. As hespoke her name she flashed a light impenetrable smile at him, and thendeliberately turned away, and he heard her say gayly to the man at herside:
"Mr. Maynard, that waltz is divine. Don't let us miss another bar ofit."
And Maynard answered softly:
"Your wish is my law, Miss Jean."
Then the crowd surged between them, and with a somewhat unreasonablebitterness in his heart Farr blindly followed Miss Stuart to asecluded corner of the veranda. Jean's treatment of him wasinexplicable. It seemed so much easier for things to go wrong thanright that he felt it was well-nigh useless to struggle against theinevitable. Disappointed and dispirited he paid but small heed to hisbeautiful companion, who was exerting her rare tact and diplomacy toplease and divert him.
In the ensuing hour, Jean, all unsuspecting of the truth, was amplyavenged. Never before had it come home to Lillian Stuart, with suchconvincing force, that against Farr's love for this young girl she wasutterly powerless. In vain love taught her a new unselfishness, awomanly gentleness quite strange to her; in vain did she crush downthe rising storm of jealousy within her breast. Farr saw none of thesethings, cared for her not at all. He sought her society because shemade so few demands upon him and accepted his varying moodsunquestioningly. If he thought on the subject at all he explained herkindness to him by the fact that he was possibly more in touch withher world than anyone else in Hetherford. The subtle charm of herpersonality which she had ever found so potent was quite lost on thisman whose love she had once possessed, and had valued so lightly. Hopewas dead in her heart, but one weapon of revenge--Jean's evidentjealousy--lay within her grasp, and this she wielded with unerringskill.
The music ceased, and soon the veranda was invaded by a host offlushed and heated dancers, and among their number Jean, with Maynardstill at her side. There was a new elasticity in her step, a new lightin her eyes, and she was flirting quite openly and markedly with hercompanion. As the stream bore them past Farr and Miss Stuart she didnot apparently observe them, withdrawn as they were into the corner,and falling out of the line of people, selected seats at a shortdistance from them.
Maynard, to whom a pretty woman was always irresistible, was carriedaway by the girl's _insouciance_, and fascination. He was the moredelighted because so completely taken by surprise. He had picturedJean always as a little puritan who would look upon a flirtation asthe height of immorality, but to-night the little puritan had suddenlyblossomed out in a totally unexpected and charming character. He wasnot a little flattered by her evident willingness to linger on in thisquiet spot with him when the crowd had once more sought the ball-room,and into his manner he infused an added warmth of interest.
Poor Jean, however, was invulnerable. She had never liked Mr. Maynard,although she had been forced to admit that he was charming, andagreeable as an acquaintance. The Hetherford girls were one and alltoo sincerely fond of Mrs. Maynard to have much patience with the manwho could flagrantly neglect so sweet and lovely a wife. It had beenan unwritten code of honor among them to treat him with politeindifference, and to promptly snub any attempt on his part to breakdown the barrier of reserve behind which they had entrenchedthemselves. Under ordinary circumstances Jean would have despisedherself for the course she was now pursuing, but to-night the poorchild was too utterly miserably to care what she did, or what becameof her. She laughed and flirted recklessly with this man, of whom shestrongly disapproved, to quell the ache at her heart, and when theremedy failed she but laughed and flirted the more. It was selfish,unworthy; but Jean was unversed in suffering, and seized upon themeans within reach to enable her to cover up her pain and jealousy.Something of the same impulse that influenced Farr with Miss Stuartprompted her to keep this man at her side. Those old friends knew hertoo well, had seen too much of her with Farr, not to have theirsuspicions aroused by her feverish and exaggerated gayety.
At last the evening was over, and they stood in the hotel office,awaiting the arrival of the stage. Jean was somewhat apart from theothers, with Maynard bending over her and talking to her in loweredtones.
Her little foot tapped the floor nervously, her cheeks burned hotly,and one unsteady little hand waved a big fan to and fro. Her couragewas rapidly forsaking her, and she rallied all her strength in onelast effort to appear naturally gay and at ease. She felt she must notbreak down now with Farr only a few paces away, for, although shenever raised her eyes, yet she knew he was watching her.
As pretty little Mrs. Maynard moved about among her guests, speakingto them in her softly modulated voice, she bent a glance of anxiousintentness upon Jean. She was far too
inured to her husband'sindifference to be deeply hurt by this new flirtation carried onbefore her very eyes, but this new phase in Jean's character puzzledher. But her own sad experience had quickened her intuition of others'unhappiness, and so it was that in her gentle heart there was more ofcommiseration than anger.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Dick's announcement that the stagewas at the door. When Jean came to bid her good-night she looked intothe strained, pathetic eyes with compassionate tenderness, and asudden impulse made her lean forward and kiss the girl lovingly.
Once more the old stage rumbled over the road between Hetherford andCrescent Beach. The wind had veered a point to the east, and blew dampand chill, driving before it a mist of clouds across the sky,obscuring the moon's bright light. The sudden change in the atmospherewas felt by everybody, and the conversation was spasmodic, broken bylong intervals of silence. Jean, very white and still now that thetension was relaxed, shrank back into her corner clinging fast toEleanor's hand. In a further corner Farr sat at Helen's side, silentduring the whole of the long drive.