Читать книгу Arnold's Tempter - Benjamin F. Comfort - Страница 4

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Bitterness of feeling between the Tories and Whigs was mollified in Philadelphia by the gayety and social qualities of the French Minister.

M. de la Luzerne had rare social tact. He flattered the Tories and dazzled the Whigs by fine dinners and balls to which all factions were invited. The salon of his residence was a favorite meeting-place. Political feuds and family jars were settled by the benign smiles and courtesy of the host and hostess. Times were stirring; the checker-board of war held sway in the drawing-room; the social ills of the body politic were cured by this representative of the French monarch, and the Revolution prospered.

As the guests arrived, the liveried butler announced their names in stentorian tones and Mollie Greydon and her father, Dr. Greydon, entered when the music was starting for the cotillion. Roderick Barclugh met Mollie as she came down the staircase, and announced to her that she was to be his partner since her name by lot fell to him.

“May I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening, Miss Greydon?” Barclugh asked her.

She had taken a parting glance in the mirror. Her reflected pompadour, ribbons, and the lace handkerchief around her sloping white shoulders satisfied her. Her bodice was square-cut and her head, which was stately, poised on a well-rounded neck, added dignity to her well-formed figure. When she appeared on the staircase and approached Roderick Barclugh with a firm but elastic step she felt perfectly calm and comfortably gowned.

“Certainly, Mr. Barclugh,” replied Mollie when asked to dance the cotillion, “I shall deem it an honor.”

She took her partner’s arm and bowed to Alexander Hamilton, General Washington’s aide. He was waiting to invite Mrs. Arnold for the cotillion. Roderick Barclugh’s pulse beat fast with delight, when he stepped into the ball-room, filled with America’s choicest spirits. They swiftly passed among the couples, seated in a semicircle, waiting for the leader to start the dancing; then they sat down, and he began to talk to his beautiful partner.

Anne Milling, herself a belle, ran over to Mollie and whispered,

“You are fortunate in your lot for a partner. He is simply grand.”

Comte de Noailles was the leader of the cotillion, and his selection of figures and favors was both bold and unique. His art had been learned at the French Court, and the Colonists went into ecstacies over his innovations.

Both Mollie and Mrs. Arnold were dancing in the first figure which was a complicated affair requiring eight couples. Mrs. Arnold was standing with her partner, Colonel Hamilton, watching the others when she said:

“Just look at those eyes of Mr. Barclugh,”—and she gave her head a saucy toss,—“he is simply devouring that young Quakeress.”

“But you know, my dear Madam,” said the Colonel, “Miss Greydon has had a beautiful life at Dorminghurst. She has cultivated the classics and is gifted as a linguist. Those accomplishments along with her personal charms are reflected in every movement of her form, which is beautiful.”

“Now, Colonel, I am surprised to have you express yourself so enthusiastically over that young prodigy. She is too ordinary for me. She makes a companion of a young Indian maiden who lives on her father’s estate. I believe her name is Segwuna and she has much influence over Mollie. She also has ideas about the rights of the people. So there! What can you expect? She knits for the soldiers, and attends the dairy at Dorminghurst for her mother!”

“Now! Now! Madam Arnold, you do not feel ungrateful—” Hamilton began.

“For my life, I can not see what Mr. Barclugh can see in a girl of her tastes!” interrupted the General’s wife.

“But,” argued the Colonel, “Mr. Barclugh has seen the jaded life of rouge and power and effete ennui in Paris and this young, beautiful and surprising belle of our Colonies appeals to him.”

“Oh, Colonel, you must be in love yourself,” said Mrs. Arnold archly; “men are such untutored creatures.” She laughed heartily.

“Salut de la Court!” called Comte de Noailles, the leader.

The dancers began the merry round which wound up with Mrs. Arnold being in the promenade with Roderick Barclugh, and Colonel Hamilton with Mollie Greydon.

“You have a fine partner, Miss Greydon,” remarked Hamilton.

“Really, do you think so?” asked Mollie.

“All the ladies are in ecstacies over him. It is a new face and a title that attract.”

“You misunderstand me then,” said Mollie.

“But you are the exception that proves the rule,” enjoined the Colonel, who was handsome in his gay uniform.

“Are men the infallible judges?” parried Mollie.

“When it comes to beauty,” replied the Colonel gayly.

The figure changed and Mollie found herself swinging in the arms of Roderick Barclugh and out of breath she sat down with a swirl of satin skirts that showed a dainty slipper.

Now Colonel Hamilton and Mrs. Arnold had a chance for a tete-a-tete as she sat down with a heaving breast which gave effect to her low-cut corsage of black velvet. Her white hand held a dainty fan which she used vigorously as she said:

“I must tell you something about Roderick Barclugh. He will some day have a title, and he is seeking his fortune in privateering. He is engaged in this business along with FitzMaurice and Milling, and has twenty thousand pounds sterling to his credit with them.”

“Why, how do you happen to know so much about him,” asked the Colonel.

“General Arnold told me. They have some business ventures in privateering together. You know, we do not get enough from Congress for our station.”

“Very true, Madam, but your lot is cast with a man of arms and he must take the fortunes of war,” said Alexander Hamilton sternly.

“Oh, Colonel, you are so severe!” exclaimed the General’s wife as John Milling came up and favored her with the next figure in the cotillion.

Little did Mollie and Barclugh know that they were the observed of all observers in the ball-room. The French Minister came up to them and shook his finger slyly at Barclugh and said: “Une fille par excellence de la belle France.”

Barclugh colored slightly and rose to give the host a chance to speak to Mollie and bowed very low. He then made his way to the side of Madam Arnold.

“This is so sweet of you, ma chere, to grace our assembly with your presence,” smilingly remarked the fat and jolly minister, while rubbing his hands together nervously. “My compliments to your mama,” continued the diplomat, “but look out and do not lose your heart to my countryman, Mr. Barclugh. He is very gay, very gay.” He then passed on to General Arnold.

“No dancing for you, mon cher general, eh?”

“Certainment! Certainment!” replied the diplomat as the General pointed to his wounded knee, a relic of Saratoga.

Mollie now had a chance to pause for a few minutes from the gay whirl of the dance, but she wished that she had never been allowed the opportunity. She grew pale as she saw Roderick Barclugh talking with Mrs. Arnold in a confidential manner. There was just one nod of her head that spoke volumes to Mollie. Hot and cold tremors coursed through her veins, for she could not fathom Mrs. Arnold, therefore she was a mystery to her and Mollie did not like her.

“Is it Tuesday, then?” queried Mrs. Arnold in a voice above the music of the dance.

“Tuesday,” nodded Barclugh in reply, just loud enough for Mollie to hear it.

“Pardon me, Miss Mollie,” came from Barclugh as he took his seat, “I was just making an appointment to ride out with the Commandant and his wife next Tuesday.”

She made no reply, but looked displeased.

The intermission for refreshments ensued, and instead of going directly to the tables where the coffee and chocolate were served, Barclugh and Mollie continued their tete-a-tete.

“I missed your presence so much at Dorminghurst when we had our last tea party, Mr. Barclugh,” said Mollie with much emphasis.

“I am flattered, Miss Greydon,” was all Barclugh could reply. His manner was agitated.

Barclugh did not know why this mere girl should have such an influence upon him. She was a surprise to his soul. Used to the artificial manners of the French Court he could not believe his own eyes when he beheld such grace of person, stately courtesy and dignity in any living being as the one before him.

“But, you know, I do not give flattery,” flashed from the pretty lips.

“Maybe, if I stayed away from your tea party you would not care for that?” queried Barclugh with intensity in his voice.

“Ah, but you know that I said ‘I missed you,’” answered Mollie with a merry glance over the top of her fan.

At this juncture the Comte de Noailles happened along and urged on the dancers:

“Here! Here! We need you. Get your partners for the country reel.”

Barclugh and Mollie stopped their confidences and laughed heartily at each other as they hurried to the refreshment table and returned with glee for the reel.

The Comte danced with Anne Milling and led the couples out into the middle of the floor. Eight couples faced each other and the reel began.

“First couple forward and back!”

“Second couple the same!”

The young now had their chance and the dowagers and the old macaronis filled up the ball-room and looked on with zest and zeal.

Mrs. Arnold while dancing with her partner, Colonel Hamilton, could not keep her eyes from Roderick Barclugh and Mollie. She was simply desperate to think that her sister, Bessie, did not have Barclugh for her evening’s partner. She watched the expression on Barclugh’s face as he bowed and swung in the changes of the dance, and she was so preoccupied that when the Comte called:

“First couple up and down the center!”—she did not recognize her partner’s bow until in self-defense Colonel Hamilton said:

“Pardon me, Madam!”

Startled with her inattention she blushed guiltily and took the proffered hand of Colonel Hamilton and promenaded up and down between the lines to the rhythm of the violins and the clapping of hands.

As the turn for Mollie and Barclugh came, it was noticeable to all how Barclugh beamed with pride as he led Mollie, with her hand raised high, and in dainty step passed between the merry dancers. He bowed deferentially as they turned to retrace their steps. Mollie looked all aglow as she stood vis-a-vis to Barclugh. There was intoxication in her manner, her face was illumined with success, but no one recognized this triumph of Mollie Greydon with such envy as Mrs. Arnold. She could not bear to think Barclugh was lost from her influence.

The reel concluded with the Comte bowing and courtesying to the onlookers as they applauded. He gave the call for the last figure:

“All join hands forward and back!”

“Salute!”

“Swing!”

Barclugh swung his partner with an abandon that Mollie could not resist, and then escorted her to Dr. Greydon.

When Mollie had seated herself he finished the evening’s pleasure by saying to her:

“The dance is the language of love.”