All this revealed by rainbows of light trembling down from the cut-glass chandeliers, formed a picture which fairly dazzled Eva Laurence, who stood in the crimson light of the back room, lost and wondering, herself, unconsciously, the most beautiful object present.
Ross, whose genius had created all this, looked on her smiling. Never had his rare gifts wrought out greater happiness to himself. It was like leading this young girl into a paradise of his own creation; one, too, in which he resolved that she should remain all her life, if it so pleased her.
Mrs. Carter gave one glance at the rooms, another to make sure that they were still unoccupied, and flung her arms about Ross, kissing him on both cheeks.
“Let them search, let them say what they please, they’ll find nothing like shoddy here,” she said, triumphantly.
Mrs. Carter was right. Never was the union of wealth and genius more perfect in its work. The guests were taken by surprise. Those who came with covert sneers, forgot criticism in admiration. Everything was splendid, everything complete.
A legion of fairies could have devised nothing more perfect. Nor was the effect diminished when the host and hostess took their places; both were observant, subdued and careful. Many of their guests had become suddenly rich like themselves. The war, in its fearful levelization, had given them plenty of company.
If anything, Mrs. Carter was a little over zealous in her hospitality. She presented Eva Laurence sometimes more than once to the same guest. She was rather ostentatious of her brother, but people were prepared to like him and forgave that.
The crowd grew denser and more brilliant as the evening wore on; diamonds shamed the light from the chandeliers; the glow of rich colors became almost oppressive. The crowd scattered itself across the broad hall and into the rooms beyond. In one there was dancing and such music as makes the blood leap and thrill in young veins. Another closed in the supper-tables, where servants were still at work like bees in a flower-garden. The hum of sweet voices, the chime of suppressed laughter, the flash of some witty reply gave zest and piquancy to the scene.
At first Eva was half frightened. She felt like a bird fluttering in a gilded cage. The scene was unlike anything she had ever witnessed, and her own share in it seemed like a fraud. More than once she was presented to the very persons who had commanded her services at the warerooms. Some of the lace floating around those superb dresses had passed through her hands. She felt keenly the look of surprise with which she was occasionally regarded, and wished herself at home.
“What can it mean?” “Is she a relative?” “How strange!” Eva heard these low-toned observations frequently; her sensitive ear was keenly on the alert for them. She felt alone in that wilderness of people.