CHAPTER XXVII.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
"Oh, her smile it seemed half holy, As if drawn from thoughts more fair Than our common jestings are; And if any painter drew her, He would paint her, unaware, With a halo round her hair." --E. B. BROWNING.
A week had passed away at Mount Sunset Hall since the arrival of Louis.
It had been a week of unremitting storm. Rain, rain, rain, from morningtill night, and from night to morning, without ceasing.
No one could go abroad in such weather; so the arrival of Louis remaineda secret in the neighborhood. It is true, Gipsy, who feared storm nomore than sunshine, would have ridden forth, but preparations were beingmade for a grand party at the mansion, in honor of Louis' arrival, andshe was forced to stay at home to assist. The whole household, with theexception of Louis and Minnette, were pressed into the business. EvenLizzie sat in the dining-room and stoned raisins, and sorted fruit, andpickles, and preserves, and looked over dresses, and laces, andmuslins, and flowers, with unabated zeal. Gipsy might have been seenflying about in calico long-shorts from morning till night, enteringheart and soul into the excitement. Jupiter and Mrs. Gower were sent tothe city for "things," and the squire was continually blowing andblustering about, and over-seeing all in general.
Minnette was too indolent to have anything to do with it, and so wasleft to herself--and Louis. That young gentleman, seeing how busy allwere, gravely offered his services in the kitchen, saying, with theassistance of Totty, he had no doubt but he would learn how to washdishes and make himself useful in time. His offer, however, like themanuscripts often sent to publishers, was "respectfully declined," andhe and Minnette being thus thrown together, became, during the week ofthe storm, the best of friends--perhaps something more.
Their mornings were usually spent in the library, she embroidering whilehe read aloud poetry--dangerous occupation for a young and handsome man.Then he had such long stories and anecdotes to tell her, of his travels,of his "hair-breadth escapes by flood and field;" and it _did_ flatterhis vanity a little to see the work drop unnoticed from her hand, hercheek flush or pale, her breath come quick and short at his words. Theirafternoons were mostly devoted to music; she seated at the piano playingand singing his favorite songs, chiefly old Scotch and German loveditties, which he liked better than Italian songs or opera music, inspite of his usually fashionable taste. And Minnette--wild, passionategirl that she was--who can tell the tumultuous thoughts that set herheart throbbing so fast, or brought so vivid a crimson to her bloomingcheek, as he bent over her, entranced--his dark, glossy locks minglingwith hers? Perhaps he did not exactly make love to her, but he was toothorough a man of the world not to perceive that she loved him, as onlyone of her fiery, passionate nature can love. The proud, haughty girl,who had all her life been a marble statue to others, was gentle andtimid as a child before him. And he--I cannot excuse him--but though heloved her not he liked this devoted homage, this fiery heart he hadtamed and won; and by his manner, almost unconsciously, led her tobelieve her love was returned. For the first time in her life, she wassupremely happy, yielding herself, without restraint, to theintoxicating spell of his eye and voice.
Gipsy's keen eyes saw all this, too--saw it with regret andapprehension, and with instinctive dread.
"Minnette's marble heart had been changed to quivering flesh at last,"was her soliloquy. "She _loves_ him, and (it is the old story) he_likes_ her. Heaven forbid he should trifle with her! for woe to you,Louis Oranmore, if the unchained force of Minnette's lion-passions isaroused. Better for you you had never been born, than that the mad loveof her tiger heart should turn to still madder hate. She can never makehim or any one else happy; she is too fierce, too jealous, too exacting.I wish she had never come here. I will ride over to-night or to-morrow,and bring Celeste here; when he sees _her_, I know he can never loveMinnette. It may not be too late yet to remedy the evil. The love ofCeleste would ennoble him--raise him above the earth, that of Minnettewill drag him down, down, to darkness and doom. I must prevent it."
Too late! too late! Gipsy. The evil has been done that can never beremedied. The "marble-heart" is awakened from its long repose at last.
The cards of invitation had been sent out for miles around. Early in theevening of the day appointed Gipsy ordered the carriage and drove toValley Cottage. Miss Hagar, gray, grim, and unchanged, stiff and uprightas ever, sat (as usual) knitting in the chimney-corner. A perfect bowerof neatness was that little cottage--outside almost hidden in its wealthof vines and leaves--inside, bright with cleanliness, and odoriferouswith the perfume of flowers that came drifting in through the whitedraped windows and open door. And there, sitting by the window in herneat-fitting muslin dress, bright, sunshiny, and smiling, sat sweetCeleste, the "Star of the Valley," celebrated for her beauty for milesaround.
"Ah, Miss Hagar! how d'ye do? Pleasant day," said Gipsy, flashing inafter her old fashion. "Celeste, throw down that sewing, and come rightoff to the Hall with me; I want you."
"Oh! really, my dear Gipsy, you must excuse me," smiled Celeste; "I ammaking this dress for poor old Widow Mayer, and must finish it to-night.So I cannot possibly go."
"Now, that's just like you, Celeste--always sewing, or sitting up, orwriting letters, or reading the Testament to some poor old unfortunate,instead of taking any pleasure for yourself. I declare you ought to be aSister of Charity, at once! But you sha'n't work yourself to death forany one; so come along. I'll send the old lady over, to-morrow, everydress I have, sooner than want you to-night."
"But Miss Hagar, Gipsy; it is not right for me to leave her alone. Sheis so lonesome without me."
"No, she's not. You're glad to get rid of her; ain't you, Miss Hagar?"
"I should be pleased to have her go. It is right she should enjoyherself with the rest of the young folks," said Miss Hagar.
"There! you hear that? Now you go and get ready!"
"But really, dear Gipsy----"
"Now, none of your 'dear Gipsy-ing' me! I won't listen to another word!You _must_ come; that's the whole of it," said Gipsy, seizing the work,and throwing it into a corner, and pulling the laughing Celeste by mainforce from the room.
"But, Gipsy, why are you so anxious for me to go with you to-night?"said Celeste, when they had reached her chamber.
"Oh, because I have my _raysons_ for it," as little Pat Flynn says. "NowI want you to look your very prettiest to-night, Celeste. In fact, youmust be perfectly irresistible."
"I am afraid you are going to play me some trick, Gipsy!" said Celeste,smiling and hesitating.
"Oh! honor bright! Come, hurry up! Put on your white muslin; you lookbetter in it than anything else."
"Besides being the best dress I have," said Celeste, as she took itdown, for the cottage maiden always dressed with the utmost plainnessand simplicity.
"I'll run out and gather you some rosebuds for your hair," said Gipsy,as Celeste began to dress.
"But, indeed, Gipsy, I am not accustomed to be so gayly attired," saidCeleste, anxiously.
"Nonsense! what is there gay in a few white rosebuds, I'd like to know?You _shall_ wear them," said Gipsy, hurrying from the room.
Half an hour later and Celeste's toilet was complete. Very lovely shelooked in her simple white robe, fastened at her slender waist by a blueribbon, her shining hair of pale gold falling like a shower of sunlightover her beautifully white and rounded neck, and wreathed with mossroses. Her fair, rose-tinted face, with its deep, blue eyes, shaded bylong, sunny lashes; her red, smiling lips; her softly flushed cheeks,and broad, transparent forehead, bright with youth, and goodness, andloveliness!
"Why, Celeste, you are radiant to-night--lovely, bewitching, angelic!"exclaimed Gipsy, gazing upon her in sort of rapture.
"Nonsense, dear Gipsy!" said Celeste, smiling, and blushing even at thewords of the little hoyden. "Are you, too, becoming a flatterer?"
"Not I; I would scorn to be! You know I never flatter, Celeste; but y
ouseem to have received a baptism of living beauty to-night."
Celeste very well knew Gipsy never flattered. Candor was a part of theelf's nature; so, blushing still more, she threw a light shawl over hershoulders, and entered the sitting-room. Both girls took leave of MissHagar, and entered the carriage, that whirled them rapidly in thedirection of Mount Sunset.
"Gipsy, I know you have some design in all this?" said Celeste, as theydrove along.
"Well; suppose I have?"
"Why, I shall be tempted to take it very hard indeed. Why have youbrought me here, Gipsy?"
"Well, to meet a friend. There now!"
"Who is it?"
"Sha'n't tell you yet. Here we are at home."
Celeste glanced from the window, and saw the court-yard full ofcarriages, the hall illuminated, and throngs of people pouring in.
"Is it possible, Gipsy, this is a large party?"
"Yes; just so, my dear."
"Oh, Gipsy! it was too bad of you to entrap me in this way!" saidCeleste, reproachfully.
"Fiddle! it's a great thing to go to a party, ain't it? Come, jump out,and come up to my dressing-room; I have a still greater surprise instore for you."
Celeste passed, with Gipsy, through a side door, and both ran,unobserved, up to her room. Then--after an hour or so, which it tookGipsy to dress, both descended to the saloon, where the dancing wasalready at its height.
Their entrance into the crowded rooms produced a decided sensation.Gipsy, blazing with jewels, moved along like a spirit of light, andCeleste, in her fair, moonlight beauty, looking like some stray angelnewly dropped in their midst.
Gipsy led her guest to the upper end of the room, under a raised arch offlowers that filled the air with fragrance.
"Stay here until I come back for you," she whispered, as she turned, anddisappeared among the throng.
Flitting hither and thither like a sunbeam, she paused until shediscovered Louis, with Minnette leaning on his arm, calling up thesmiles and blushes to her face at his all-powerful will.
"Louis! Louis! come with me! I want you a moment. You'll excuse him,Minnette, will you not?" said Gipsy.
"Oh, certainly!" said Minnette, with a radiant look, little dreaming forwhat purpose he was taken from her.
Passing her arm through his, Gipsy led him to where he could obtain afull view of Celeste, without being seen by her.
"Look!" she said, pointing.
He looked, started suddenly, and then stood like one transfixed, withhis eyes riveted to the glorious vision before him.
She stood under the flowery canopy, robed in white, crowned with roses,leaning against a marble statue of Hebe, herself a thousand timeslovelier than that exquisitely sculptured form and face. This was hisideal, found at last--this the face and figure that had haunted hisdreams all his life, but had never been found before; just such anangelic creature he had striven all his life to produce on canvas, andalways failed. He stood motionless, enchanted, drinking in tointoxication the bewildering draught of her beauty.
"Louis," said Gipsy, laying her hand on his arm.
He heard not, answered not; he stood gazing like one chained to thespot.
"Louis," she said in a louder tone.
Still she was unheeded,
"Louis, you provoking wretch!" she said, giving him a shake.
"Well?" he said, without removing his dazzled eyes from the visionbefore him.
"What do you think of her? Is she not lovely?"
"Lovely!" he repeated, rousing himself from the trance into which he hadfallen. "Gipsy, she is _divine_. Do not praise her beauty; no words cando it justice."
"Whew!--caught already! There's love at first sight for you."
"Gipsy, who is she--that vision of light--my life-dream--that I havefound at last?"
"Then you don't know her? Bless your dear, innocent heart! that'sCeleste--your 'Star of the Valley,' you know!"
"Yes, yes! I recognize her now--my Star of the Valley, rightly named.Would she _were_ mine!" he added, in a lower tone.
"Shall I present you?"
"Does she know I am here?"
"No; I didn't tell her a word about it."
"Then leave me. I will present myself."
"All right; that'll save me some trouble; and I hear somebody over theresinging out for Mrs. Wiseman. So _au revoir_, and Cupid be with you!"
And, laughingly, Gipsy glided away, and Louis went up and stood beforeCeleste.
She looked up with a start, to find the handsomest man she had ever seenin her life standing before her, gazing upon her with such a look ofintense admiration in his deep, dark eyes, that the blood rushed to hercheek, and the white lids dropped over the shrinking blue eyes. Anothermoment, and both her hands were clasped in his; while he cried, in avoice that was low, but full of passion:
"Celeste! Celeste! little sister!--do you not know me?"
"Louis!" broke from her lips, in a wild exclamation of joy.
"Yes, sweet sister, your boy-friend, Louis, home again."
"Oh, Louis, I am _so_ glad!" she said, lifting her cloudless blue eyesto his, radiant with delight.
"Then you have not forgotten me? I feared you had," he said, bendingover her, and holding fast the little hand that lay imprisoned in his.
"Forget you!--oh, no," she said, her heart fluttering wildly that momentagainst a little golden cross--_his_ parting gift, which had lain on herbosom all those years.
There was a look of eager delight on his face at her words. She saw it,and grew embarrassed. Withdrawing her hand from his, she said, in a morecomposed voice:
"When did you arrive?"
"About a week ago. I would have gone to see you, but the weather was sodisagreeable," he replied, with a pang of regret and remorse for hisneglect.
"Yes, so it was," said Celeste, sincerely; for, having no morbidself-love to be wounded, his excuse seemed the most natural thing in theworld.
"And how is my old friend, Miss Hagar?" he asked, drawing her arm withinhis, and leading her toward the conservatory, now almost deserted.
"Oh, quite well. She will be delighted to see you."
"May I go and see her to-morrow, sweet Celeste?"
"Certainly you may. We will _both_ be very glad to see you," answeredCeleste, delightedly.
"She is certainly a paragon of simplicity. No woman of the world wouldsay that," thought Louis, as he glanced at her eager, happy face.
An exclamation from Celeste attracted his attention. He looked up. Rightbefore him stood Minnette, with her glittering black eyes fixed uponthem with a look so fierce, so flamingly jealous, that he started back.
"Why, Minnette, what is the matter? Are you ill?" asked Celeste, inalarm.
She would have turned away without answering; but the dark eye of Louiswas upon her, and she replied, coldly:
"I am perfectly well. Excuse me; I fear I have interrupted a pleasant_tete-a-tete_."
And, with one fierce, scorching glance at Celeste, she turned, andhurried away.
Celeste shuddered; something in the dark, passionate face of Minnettefrightened her. Her companion perceived it--well he understood thecause; and with matchless tact he drew her mind from the subject to fixit on himself.
During the evening he devoted himself assiduously to Celeste. With herhe danced; on his arm she leaned in the promenade; by his side she satat table. Standing alone and neglected by herself, Minnette saw it all;and, had looks power to kill, those flaming glances of fire would havestricken her rival dead.
It was near morning when the party broke up. Celeste--who always sharedGipsy's room when at the Hall--sought her couch, and soon closed herweary blue eyes in blissful slumbers.
That night, in the dreams of Louis, the dark, resplendent face ofMinnette was forgotten for a white-robed vision with a haunting pair ofblue eyes. And Minnette--in the calm light of the stars, she trod up anddown her apartment until morning broke over the hill-tops, with a wildanguish at her heart she had never before known.