Before she could again reply, Mr. Sylvester returned. His face was still pale, but it had acquired an expression of rigidity even more alarming to Paula than its previous aspect of forced merriment. Lifting her by the hand, he drew her apart.
“I shall have to leave you somewhat abruptly,” said he. “An important matter demands my instant attention. Bertram is somewhere here, and will see that you and Ona arrive home in safety. You won’t allow your enjoyment to be clouded by my hasty departure, will you?”
“Not if it will make you anxious. But I would rather go home with you now. I am sure Cousin Ona would be willing.”
“But I am not going home at present,” said he; and she ventured upon no further remonstrance.
But her enjoyment was clouded; the sight of suffering or anxiety on that face was more than she could bear; and ere long she said good-night to Cicely, and accepting the arm of Mr. Ensign, who was never very far from her side, proceeded to search for her cousin.
She found her standing in the midst of an admiring throng to whom her diamonds, if not her smiles, were an object of undoubted interest. She was in the full tide of one of her longest and most widely rambling speeches, and to Paula, with that stir of anxiety at her breast, was an image of self-satisfied complacency from which she was fain to drop her eyes.
“Mrs. Sylvester shares the honors with her husband,” remarked Mr. Ensign as they drew near.
“But not the trials, or the pain, or the care?” was Paula’s inward comment.
Mrs. Sylvester was not easily wooed away from a circle in which she found herself creating such an impression, but at length she yielded to Paula’s importunities, and consented to accept young Mr. Sylvester’s attendance to their home. The next thing was to find Bertram. Mr. Ensign engaged to do this. Leaving Paula with her cousin, who may or may not have been pleased at this sudden addition to her circle, he sought for the young man who as Mr. Mandeville was not unknown to any of the fashionable men and women of the day. It was no easy task, nor did he find him readily, but at last he came upon him leaning out of a window and gazing at a white lily which he held in his hand. Without preamble, Mr. Ensign made known his errand, and Bertram at once prepared to accompany him back to the ladies.
“By Jove! I didn’t know the fellow was so handsome!” thought the former, and frowned he hardly knew why. Bertram was not handsome, but then Clarence Ensign was plain, which Bertram certainly was not.