Mary Ware in Texas

by Annie F. Johnston

The stage of Beethoven Hall was turned into a bower of roses on this eve of San Jacinto Day, and a great audience, assembling early, awaited the coming of the Queen of the Carnival and her royal court. In the patent of nobility given by her gracious majesty to her attendants, was the command:

"We bid you to join with all of our loyal subjects in the Mirth and Merriment of this Festival of Flowers, which doth commemorate the glorious freedom of this, our Texas, won by the deathless heroism of the defenders of the Alamo, and the Victory of San Jacinto."

This call for Mirth and Merriment struck the keynote of the carnival, and everyone in the great assembly seemed to be responding with the proper festival spirit.

Back in the crowded house in a seat next the aisle and almost at the entrance door, sat Mary Ware, completely entranced by all that was going on about her. Lieutenant Boglin was beside her, and in the chairs directly behind them were Gay and Billy Mayrell. Roberta and Phil were in front of them. They had come early to secure these chairs, and the men had given the girls the end seats in order that they might have unobstructed view of both aisle and stage. They all turned so that conversation was general until the house was nearly filled, then Roberta said something which drew Phil's attention wholly to herself, and he turned his back on the others, beginning to talk exclusively to her.

Gay, who appeared to know at least every fourth person who came down the aisle, sat, like most of the audience, with her head turned expectantly towards the door, and kept up a running comment to Mary on the acquaintances who passed her with nods of recognition or brief words of greeting. The thrum of the orchestra, the sight of so many smiling faces, although they were strange to her, and the blended colors of fashionable evening gowns would have furnished Mary ample entertainment after her dull winter in the country; but it was doubly entertaining with Gay to point out distinguished people and give her bits of information, supplemented by Billy and Bogey about this one from the Post and that one from the town.

She wished that Phil could hear too. She wanted him to know what prominent personages he was in the midst of. Once when some world-known celebrity was escorted up the aisle she leaned over and called his attention to the procession. He looked up with a smile to follow her glance, and made a joking response, but returned so quickly to the fascinating Roberta, that Mary felt that his interest in everything else just then was merely perfunctory.

She remembered what Gay had said about his finding his affinity, and stole a side glance at Roberta to study her in the new light which Phil's interest threw upon her. Now in the days when Phil worshipped at the Little Colonel's shrine, Mary was perfectly content to have it so. She would have walked over hot plowshares to have brought his romance to a happy consummation. It seemed so eminently fitting that the two people in the world whom she had invested with halos, should stand together on the same pedestal in her affections. To her doting eyes, Lloyd was such an angel that she knew Phil must be happy with her, and Phil measured so fully up to the notch on the sterling yard-stick which indicated the inches and ells that a true prince should be, that she was sure no girl who wove her Clotho-web for him could fail to find the happiness that was written for her in the stars.

Mary had grown accustomed to the fact by this time that she had made a mistake in her reading of the stars. Lloyd was destined for someone else. But it had not occurred to her before that maybe Phil was, too. The thought that he would carry a secret sorrow with him to the grave, invested him with a melancholy charm that made him all the more interesting. It was somewhat of a shock to her to see him watch the downward sweep and swift upward glance of Roberta's pretty eyes in such an admiring way, although Mary herself had heretofore found pleasure in watching them. Of course she didn't want him to go on suffering always, still—she didn't want him to forget.

In her passionate loyalty to Lloyd she resented his bestowing a second glance on any girl who was any less of an angel than she; and yet her loyalty to Phil made her want him to have whatever he wanted. Knowing how many men had fallen victims to Roberta's flirtatious little ways, she longed to save Phil from the same fate. The growing alarm with which she watched them was almost comical for one of her years. It was comical because it was so motherly. Not a particle of jealousy or a thought of self entered into it.

A hush fell on the great audience, and the curtain rose on a tableau of surpassing loveliness. The stage seemed to be one mass of American Beauty roses. The walls were festooned and garlanded with them. They covered the high throne in the centre and bordered the steps leading up to it. They hung in long streamers on either side from ceiling to floor. Grouped against this glowing background, stood the noble dukes, the lords-in-waiting and their esquires. The gay-colored satins and brocades of their old-time court costumes, the gleam of jewelled sword-hilts, the shine of powdered perukes, transported one from prosaic times and lands to the old days of chivalry and romance.