CHAPTER XIX.
THE DEVOTION OF LOVE.
Oh! sweeter far than wealth, than fame, than all,
Is first and passionate love; it stands alone.
—Byron.
There was a much larger, but not so select, a company invited by the genial, social Judge Jacky than that assembled by the proud and reserved General Garnet. And by “early candle light”—the country hour for assembling for a ball—the whole house—parlors, chambers, family rooms, and saloon—were crowded to overflowing. The dining room only was kept shut up, for there the two long tables were to be set for supper. The saloon, or “big room,” as it is plainly called in old-fashioned country houses, was blazing with light and splendor, and pealing with music, and alive with young men and maidens in ball dresses, laughing, talking, wooing, flirting, dancing. It was something like General Garnet’s ball on a larger and somewhat coarser scale, it must be confessed, but then it was such a joyous, jubilant, exultant scene! The young folks laughed, and talked, and danced, and jested with so much gladness and freedom! And Judge Jacky moved about laughing, talking, joking, gallanting all the ugly old maids, making love to all the low-spirited old widows, flattering and complimenting all the plain girls, encouraging all shamefaced young gentlemen, and electrifying into jocund life all the “flat, stale, and unprofitable” folks in the joyous company.
But it is not with the gay and thoughtless of that merry throng that we have to do, but with our great-hearted Magnus and our dear Elsie. You know at this moment, just as well as I do, that they both had too much on their minds to think of dancing. They had each come to the ball chiefly to meet the other and have a talk. General Garnet would willingly have kept Elsie away, but he did not think it polite to offend Judge Wylie by doing so. But one thing he had taken care to do—to send for Lionel Hardcastle to escort her there. And Lionel had ridden in the carriage alone with Elsie from Mount Calm to Point Pleasant, and had had every opportunity of pursuing a courtship that he had commenced almost from the first evening of his return. Elsie cut him short in the midst of one of his finest speeches by telling him that he was making love to his cousin’s wife—or to one who would be so on Thursday week! Yes, Elsie compelled herself to say exactly that to Lionel, to crush his hopes at once. On reaching the house at Point Pleasant, Elsie said aloud to Magnus, who came out to meet them:
“Dr. Hardcastle, help me to thank your cousin for the kind manner in which he has supplied your place in attending me here,” and, bowing courteously to Lionel, she took the arm of Magnus and entered the saloon.
They were now seated at the farthest extremity of the vast saloon, within the bay window. Elsie was looking very beautiful this evening. She was dressed in a gossamer white crape, over white satin. Her snowy arms and neck were bare, and encircled by diamond bracelets and necklace. She was always beautiful, but now her usually happy, joyous face was softened and deepened into an expression of serious thought and feeling ineffably charming.
They had been conversing. Elsie had told him all that had passed between herself and her father. And Magnus had recounted a similar scene that had taken place between himself and General Garnet. He had, as Elsie had, asserted his determination to abide by their betrothal. He repeated the same thing to Elsie now. It was this—this saving of her heart’s fondest hopes amid the crash of fortune—that made Elsie feel and look so very blessed.
They were still conversing. He raised her hand—she had an exquisitely beautiful hand, elegantly shaped, and white as snow, and now diamond rings sparkled upon it; appropriate ornaments for it, as one may see. Well, he raised that small, white, jeweled hand, and looking tenderly, half-remorsefully upon it, said—and his voice was full-toned and melodious with love and sorrow: