'What should I say her height was? About five feet five, I should think--a little taller, perhaps, with those new French heels, which set the foot off, but are deuced dangerous for walking. Ah, Willie Webster, you rascal,' whispering in the ear of a dirty little man in a wideawake, 'you're the lad for the ladies, and you're death on complexions, I know. Look at hers; look at the Montressor's. That's the real thing--none of your bismuth and pearl powder, but with the warm tinge on it which she has caught on her voyage from the sea and sun. Natural daughter of a most distinguished man, my dear Carter; blue blood, Norman descent, and all that sort of thing--look at it in her hands and feet, that's where the real breeding comes out. You don't care about noble descent in this country, I know--honesty, virtue, simple citizen, and all that kind of thing; but you do admire hands and feet, and most of your ladies have them in perfection.'
The press gentlemen went off in their swift-sailing little boat, and landing before the huge steamer worked her way to the wharf, so aroused the enthusiasm of those waiting there by their description of Miss Montressor's charms, that when she was seen on the deck, leaning on Bryan Duval's arm, she was greeted with great applause, cheerings, and waving of handkerchiefs. Most interested among those assembled on the wharf to meet the voyagers was Mr. Van Buren, a strikingly handsome man of between forty and fifty, with jet-black hair in crisp waves over his well-shaped head, a classic profile, and an excellent figure. He was naturally nervous, for the good old British comedies, which were the staple attraction at Van Buren's Varieties, had ceased to attract, and the manager was looking to the engagement of Duval's company to recoup him his losses, and finish his season brilliantly. Dogging his heels was his friend and adviser Mr. Morris Jacobs, who had entered the service of Mr. Van Buren's father as call-boy at three dollars a week, but who was now reputed to be worth half a million, and to be the real owner of Van Buren's Varieties and almost of Van Buren himself, for the manager-actor was fond of pleasure, and was besides a great sportsman. He had always horses in training somewhere, and whenever he could get away from the theatre he was rushing off to look after them; while Mr. Morris Jacobs had but one thought in life, the accumulation of money; and finding that could be best attended to at the Varieties, there he remained, and there, morning, noon, and night, he was to be found. But when Mr. Van Buren had been presented to Miss Montressor by Bryan Duval all his nervousness vanished. He bowed his curly head over her daintily gloved hand, and lifted it to his lips. Then turning to Mr. Jacobs, he muttered,
'No use shinning about any more, Morris; trump card's found!'
More and more delights were there in store for the newly-arrived troupe: banquets in their rooms at the Fifth-avenue Hotel, bushels of cards left by distinguished callers, artistic clubs proffering receptions, and invitations for all kinds of entertainments. Miss Montressor was in the highest state of delight. 'If this is America,' she said to Bryan Duval, 'I rather think I am likely to be pleased with it.'
Intelligence of the arrival of the star company, and their brilliant reception in New York, speedily reached Mrs. Griswold's house. Helen, with her usual cordial kindness, sent the newspaper which contained the lengthiest and most sensational account of the proceedings of the popular reception, and the programme of the performance, to Mrs. Jenkins. She would have gone to the nursery to read it all for her, and enjoy the pleasure and excitement with which she felt the nurse would peruse it, but she happened just then to be detained by callers.
Mrs. Jenkins clutched the paper from the hand of the servant who brought it to her, and read it with the utmost avidity. When, shortly afterwards, Mrs. Griswold went up-stairs to pay her customary visit to the baby before dressing for lunch, she found the nurse in rather a fidgety state; she was absent while Mrs. Griswold talked to her, she answered one or two of her questions at random, and altogether her manner was so distrait that Helen resolved to find out what it all meant.
'Has anything happened to you?' she said; 'have you had any bad news? Pray tell me.'
'No, ma'am,' said Mrs. Jenkins, 'I have not had any bad news, but I should like very much to go out for a while; there is some one come to New York that I know, and I should like to call and see her.'
Perhaps a transitory feeling of surprise crossed Helen's mind at the unusual reticence of Mrs. Jenkins, who by this time had become so familiarised with her friendly manner and her kindly genial interest in all that concerned the dwellers in her house that she would have supposed the nurse would at once have told her who the person was, and all about it; but Helen's kindness was not of the exacting sort, and she received this brief communication with her usual sweet compliance.
'Of course you can go out,' she said. 'I will take care of baby; I can take you in the carriage wherever you want to go, and then you can leave baby with me.'