Not until Tuesday night at the reception, therefore, did the Rays meet Mrs. Dwight. Mother and son again came together, Marion in simple evening toilet, Sandy, as required of all officers for that occasion, in full-dress uniform. Mrs. Dwight stood at the colonel's left. The adjutant, facing her, made all the presentations. She was gowned again, as she was that night at Naples, beautifully, extravagantly, and her jewels were, as then, too much in evidence. She had been looking, so remarked her hostess, somewhat pale and sallow during the day, but there was no lack of color, of radiance, of sparkle now. Her face was exquisite in its dark beauty, wondrous in its witchery. Her smile was sweetness itself, and many a woman envied her those perfect teeth rather more than the diamonds. Her soft Southern accent lent a charm of its own to her few words of gracious welcome and acknowledgment. It was noted that she said very little, that she repeated much; but what she said was so sweetly said, and the meaning smile lent so very much more to make it all impressive. Her very attitude was one of supple, sinuous grace, and, whatsoever may have been lacking in the form and variety of her verbal response to Minneconjou's welcome, there could be no warrant for saying that she did not look, at least, her part. Women stood and watched her and marked the play of her slender little hands, the unconscious, languorous use of her beautiful fan, and women marked how alert, too, were the wonderful dark eyes—how, even as they meltingly and feelingly were uplifted to greet each newcomer, they saw each comer before that comer stood in her presence. She was at her best when Mrs. Ray, pausing first to greet Mrs. Stone and the colonel, was passed on to the star of the evening, and the smiling adjutant, with unpremeditated preference in his tone, announced "Mrs. Ray, Mrs. Dwight; your predecessor at the head of our squadron." And then for the first time that night the bride stepped forward, if only a single pace, and, as though her heart went with it, her hand seemed to leap forward in impulsive greeting.
"I have known Mrs. Ray ever since I first met Major Dwight," said she, with such wealth of gladness in her tone. She never seemed to see the young officer standing with pale, unsmiling face, awaiting his turn to be advanced to the presence. "I cannot begin to say how glad I am to meet her—at last," she continued. And Marion Ray, thoroughbred woman of society, if not of the world, stood in quiet, smiling grace and dignity, listening—without a sign of rancor to the swift patter of words from the beautiful lips of the girl who had played havoc with her firstborn's honest young heart, studying the beauty of the newcomer's wondrous face, and wondering, as mothers will, that even a lover could see therein a resemblance to her own daughter—her dark-eyed Maidie. She hoped that by this time Sandy, too, would see that he had been blind. She responded without embarrassment or effort. Not for a royal ransom would she let this fascinator see that her son had ever so far taken her seriously enough to speak, even to his mother, of a possible admiration.
"The major was very long our near neighbor," she said. "And it is good to have him with us again—and to welcome Mrs. Dwight." Then her hand was extended to Major Dwight as, still smiling and chatting, she seemed imperceptibly sidling toward him; and then Sandy emerged into the field of vision. "So glad to see Mrs. Dwight again," said he, in off-hand assumption of jovial indifference. "Gibson's here, you know. He'll be trotting past the grandstand presently." And though the little hand, slipped into his, gave faint, fluttering, tentative pressure, he edged along, yielding place to 'Cilla and Will, the next comers, and precipitated himself on Dwight. There was unmistakable glance of reproach, perhaps even of pain, from those glorious eyes as the young officer passed unfaltering on, but it was instant; it was unseen by the aging and adoring soldier at her side.
And in this wise was the dreaded meeting accomplished with no one possibly the wiser, with no one warned by word or sign of the complications and catastrophes to come.
It took Major Dwight but four or five days to set his own house in order and move his birdling into the pretty cage he had planned for her. Willing hands by dozens, both officers and troopers, had wrought with him in the transformation. Beautiful rugs, carpets, and curtains, rare in army parlors, had been lavishly provided—this, too, despite well-founded rumors that Dwight had no such bank account to-day as that he owned to at Manila. Saying no word upon the subject, Marion Ray had noted, nevertheless, how much more expensive and luxurious were the surroundings of Inez than had been those of wise and provident Margaret Dwight. They gave their first dinner, did the Dwights, one week from the date of Colonel Stone's first, and to this was Marion bidden. She had not expected it, had not provided herself with a previous engagement, had to accept or decline at once, and accepted.
"Mother," said Sandy, coming in at the moment, "have you seen—has anything been seen of a blouse of mine sent home Tuesday evening? I can't find it, yet the troop tailor swears he left it here himself."
"Who received it?" asked Mrs. Ray. "We were all home dressing for the reception."
"Why, that's the queer part of it," was the answer. "He says he found the back door open, knocked twice and nobody answered, so he walked in the kitchen, laid the bundle on the table and came out and shut the door after him."
Mrs. Ray thought a moment. "I gave Sarah permission to be out, and Minnie was up here helping us. That may have accounted for his knock being unanswered. You went down before I did, 'Cilla," she continued, turning to her niece, who was busy at the desk. "Was Sarah back then? I thought I heard you speak to someone."
"To two of the Bible class," said 'Cilla. "They came to say we couldn't have the use of that little room back of the chapel. I don't understand it at all. We offered to clean it out and store the boxes in the cellar, but——" And 'Cilla shrugged her shoulders. She had begun to believe that the chaplain was jealous of her influence over certain intractables in the garrison, and was aiming to thwart her. This view Mrs. Ray could not share. She presently put down her pen and passed out into the dining-room.