Closs read the letter with a smile of pleasure; but when he took up the bonds again, his face clouded.
"Can I never wash my hands of that poor lady's money," he said. "Do what I can, it will come back to me."
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE BALL AT HOUGHTON.
The night arrived at last in which Lady Carset was to do the honors of her own castle, and receive the highest and brightest of the land in person. A range of boudoirs and saloons, connected with the state drawing-room, were thrown together, and united in one splendid vista by silken draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble wreaths and arches over each entrance, filling room after room with brightness and fragrance.
The conservatories had been stripped that night, that their treasures of rare exotics might brighten the splendor of those rooms, and soften the ancestral grandeur of the vast entrance hall. They wound in massive wreaths around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken staircase—were duplicated over and over again in the height and breadth of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming border around the oaken floors, black with age and bright with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The gilded orchestras were interlaced with them, and, in every group of plants or clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars, casting tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer color to the blossoms.
When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping across the stone terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, and, leaning on the arm of Lord Hope, took her place in the central drawing-room, with gentle dignity, and stood, with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up the richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, and striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds, which held, and gathered up the woven moonlight of her lace shawl on those dainty, sloping shoulders and delicate bust, which had not known such ornaments for years. A ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lappets of gossamer lace back from her left temple, whence they floated off gently into the snow of her hair, scarcely whiter than it was. A lovelier representative of the grandest aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of Houghton Castle. But the sweet old lady was already forced to exert all her strength, that nothing should fall short of the old hospitality on this the last fête she ever expected to give.
Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating down that broad staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants as she went, and forming them into a tiny bouquet for her grandmother. Her dress was just one cloud of silvery whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the left shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments she wore. She had insisted, with almost passionate vehemence, that no mention of her heirship should be made that night, and the old lady consented with reluctance, but appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all her tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been omitted which, in feudal times, was considered proper when the heirship of Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, the old lady had kept honorable silence, and no one, even from the grandeur of the entertainment, had a right to more than guess that the general heirship was settled on Lord Hope's daughter.
In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord and Lady Hope, and the old countess had taken up the sparkling weight of all those Carset jewels, that all the world might know that they had come back honorably into her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate way of acknowledging herself in the wrong.
Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any numbers, Lady Hope came floating into the state drawing-room, with a noble cactus flower sweeping backwards from the left side of her head, and resting upon the massive braids of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled her neck and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom, but forming a bold contrast to the amber silk of her dress, which swept far back upon the polished floor, and took the light as birds of Paradise fling off sunshine from their plumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage was Rachael Closs that night, as she moved across the floor and took her place by the little countess, who looked up and smiled gently when she saw that Lord Hope's wife appeared in the old family rubies, which she had presented to her that morning.