Standing in the sunset before him--and he always remembered her as she stood then--Kimberly saw in her eyes the fires of the devotion he had lighted. "I hope," she whispered, "I can make you happy."
"You would make a stone happy," he murmured, breathing the fragrance of her being as she looked up at him.
It was evening when he saw her again and he stood with Dolly and Imogene who were receiving.
The night was warm and the guests sought the lawns, the garden, and the groves. When a horn blown across the terrace announced dancing, slight and graceful women, whose draperies revealed mere delicate outlines of breathing creatures, came like fairies out of the night. The ballroom, in candle-light, was cool, and only the ceiling frescoes, artfully heightened by lights diffused under ropes of roses, were brighter than the rest of the room.
As the last guests arrived from town--Cready Hamilton and his wife with Doctor Hamilton and the Brysons--Kimberly walked into the ballroom. He caught Alice's eye and made his way toward her.
She smiled as he asked for a dance. "Do you realize," said he as she rose, "that this is your first--and your last--dance at The Towers as a guest? Next time you will be hostess--won't you?"
A sound of breaking glass crashing above the music of the violins took Alice's answer from her lips. Every one started. Women looked questioningly at the men. Alice shrank to Kimberly's side. "Merciful Heaven!" she whispered, "what was that?"
He answered lightly. "Something has smashed. Whatever it is, it is of no consequence."
The music continuing without interruption reassured the timid. There was no sequence to the alarming sound, the flow of conversation reasserted itself and in a moment the incident was forgotten.
But Kimberly perceived by Alice's pallor that she was upset. "Come out into the air," he said, "for a moment."