Poor Marshman, thought I, the rose leaves are plucked, only thorns for thee!
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
When Frank and I entered the parlor of the hotel, after sending up our cards to Lulie and the other ladies from Wilmington, we found the room full of company. Strange faces among the ladies, and familiar faces among the students, were grouped on every side. All were bowing, smiling and talking in the most eager and interested manner, as they filled their dancing cards with engagements for the ball, or brought forward friends to be introduced. We had only to wait a few moments, when we heard light footfalls and the rustle of dresses on the stairway, and the next instant Lulie and her two friends came into the room and greeted us cordially.
What a fairy vision of loveliness was Lulie! Her exquisite figure, as petite as Titania’s, perfect in the bloom of womanhood, a vine-work of brown ringlets clustering around her shoulders, a sparkle in her bright eyes, and a roseate hue on her dimpled cheeks! The same beautiful being I had once adored, though more perfect now in her bewitching loveliness; the same cherry lips I had kissed before the nursery fire; the same roguish glance that had so often brought my heart into my mouth, as our eyes met across Miss Hester’s school room, and the same silvery laugh that I had thought was the sweetest music in the world. A tinge of sadness came over me as I bowed over her hand and thought of what might have been.
We passed a half hour very pleasantly, talking about old times and scenes, and making engagements for the festive occasions before us; but oh! what a yearning desire I felt to shield her from all possible harm, as I marked her fond looks turned, so often and trustfully, towards Frank’s bloated though still handsome features.
I was to escort her that night to the “Fresh” Declamation, and when we walked up the brilliantly lighted aisle of the chapel, which was thronged with the beauty of the State, I saw many a look of intense admiration directed towards the little fairy on my arm. Next morning a score of my friends came to ask the favor of an introduction, so that Lulie held quite a levee down at her hotel, though each one who called asked me in some surprise afterwards, how she came to be so intimate with “that fellow, Paning.”
Frank carried her that night to the “Soph.” speaking, and I could not but feel ashamed for her, as I marked the looks of surprise and coldness on the faces of my acquaintances, who, I felt sure, to a certain extent, classed her by her escort. After the speaking we had a little hop in the ball room, and I noticed she remained in the room only a short time, dancing one or two sets with Frank’s friends, men whom Dr. Mayland would have ordered from his parlor. I felt it was my imperative duty to advise her of it all, but I was so sure that she would attribute all my counsel to prejudice against Frank, and despise me for it, that I hesitated and delayed.
Next morning, while I was lying across my bed, enjoying the perfumed breeze that floated up from the flowery campus, Harrow, a friend and classmate, came in and sat down by me.
“Say, Smith!” he said, shading a match with his hands to keep it from being blown out, and speaking on each side of his cigar, “is that little beauty who was with Paning last night a friend of yours?”