"I shouldn't have thought it," said Miss Ballinger, smiling, as she glanced at the graceful little woman, who was carrying on a lively flirtation with Mordaunt.
After dinner they went to the theatre, where their host had taken a row of stalls, in order that his guests might see a thoroughly representative American play. Viewed as a literary production, the piece was amazing. But the capital picture of American country life, the naturalness of the characters, the humor and pathos of the acting in these scenes, redeemed that portion which was supposed to depict the graces and the vices of the moneyed aristocracy of New York. It seemed curious to Grace that the actors and actresses should not have caught even the faintest outward resemblance to ladies and gentlemen. On this point, however, her American acquaintances were more indignant, more bitter in ridicule, than herself.
Mordaunt Ballinger told his sister, as they drove home, that New York was an awfully nice place. He believed he was being put up to a good thing or two, and he should be in no hurry to go away. Grace assured him she was quite content to remain there, as long as he liked. "Only don't fall in love with Miss Clayton," she added, laughing. "I don't think Aunt Susan could stand her for a niece."
He laughed in return. "She is very fetching. Why is it that no English girl has that abandon? But you needn't be afraid. She is too 'cute to marry a pauper. She warned me that I wasn't eligible. Fancy an English girl doing that! As Sims said (Sims is a deuced clever fellow), 'American women are like pins. Their heads will always prevent them from being lost, plunge they never so deep!'"
Quintin Ferrars called on the Ballingers the day after their arrival. He was remaining on in New York; for what purpose did not seem very clear, as he had told Grace during the voyage that business in Virginia was bringing him over, and that nothing but business would have induced him to come at this season. Nor had he any friends in New York. He seemed as much a stranger there as the Ballingers—indeed, more so, for they had invitations and he had none—and spoke with profound aversion of New York society. He visited with them the Metropolitan Museum of Art, some exhibitions of modern pictures, and several private collections which they had obtained permission to see. They also accompanied him to Daly's Theatre, where some of those slight comedies in which the canvas was nothing and the work thereon perfection were being performed. His remarks were always trenchant and original, his satire sometimes pungent. But it seemed to Grace that the man was more depressed, and at times more bitter, than he had appeared during the passage. The one thing which she did not see was that he was in love with her. Mordaunt, with not half her perspicacity, saw it, but held his peace. Grace had too recently had a bitter disappointment for him to fear that she would fall in love with the first middle-aged American who laid his heart and fortune at her feet. Still, it was well that he should make inquiries touching this Ferrars. But he could learn little or nothing. Those he asked said the man came of a good old Virginian stock, and was well off. But he had not lived in America for many years; during his occasional visits few saw him; if anything was to be known of his life, it was not in New York.
About Gunning, on the other hand, who had been unremitting in his attentions to Grace ever since their arrival, there were no inquiries to be made. He had proposed Sir Mordaunt as a visitor to the Knickerbocker and Manhattan Athletic Clubs. There and elsewhere every one spoke well of the young man. He did not drink; he did not gamble; he had never been known to do a shabby thing. He was manly, straightforward, and liberal with his money. To his mother, who lived with him, he was an excellent son; to his companions a generous friend. He was not always "very good form," but Ballinger had seen worse failings than a little bombast, a little empty talk, knocked out of a man. He certainly did not wish his sister to marry an American, he said to himself; but if she should have a fancy that way, it would be as well if she would select one for whom every one had a good word, and who possessed a million of dollars a year.
Here is a passage from a letter to his aunt:
"People say no American man ever really likes an Englishman. Some of the young fellows may be a little jealous of a stranger, if he has any success here; but all I know is that most of them have been awfully kind to me, and many of them are capital company. I dare say one mustn't inquire too curiously how some of these great fortunes were made; that is no concern of mine. They all seem very glad to put one in the way of making a good thing. One fellow tells me that orange groves or fruit-orchards in Southern California are the safest investments; giving the largest returns, from 25 to 40 per cent. on the capital laid out. Another advises 'reel estate,' as they call it, near one of the rising cities (mining centres) in Colorado. He says land can't fail to double or treble in value, only one must be content to let the money remain tied up for a time. A third recommends a Mexican opal mine which he says he knows is a first-rate thing. But the man I am most disposed to trust is a shrewd chap named Reid, to whom I brought a letter. He has been awfully kind explaining things. He says there is nothing like being on the spot, and recommends strongly my going out West and looking into these various investments. He has been explaining to me how the whole city is ruled by the Irish vote, and what awful corruption goes on. Talk of liberty! It seems to me they have precious little here—everything is sacrificed to party. And the worst of it is, the best men stand aloof. Fellows of high character and enormous wealth, who ought to have the chief weight in municipal matters, have none. They won't mix themselves up with the Irish, whom they hate. Apropos of Americans, the greatest parti in New York, a young chap named Gunning, is awfully gone on Grace. He crossed with us, and it began then; but she would have nothing to say to him, preferring the society of a man nearly old enough to be her father, named Ferrars (so like her, isn't it?), or of a thin, pasty-looking young professor, in horribly made overalls and a 'reach-me-down.' Gracey always will be queer in her tastes to the end of the chapter! Flowers come every morning from this Gunning. She can't return them, but she declines every other mortal thing he offers—his riding-horses, carriages, theatre-parties, etc. I have had difficulty in getting her to accept a party he is giving 'to meet Miss Ballinger'—that is the New York form when they want to do a person special honor. He heard her say she would like to see a Spanish dancer who is here, and who only performs at a low café where ladies can't go, but occasionally dances at private houses for a select circle—that is how he caught her. I wish I could see that she took any interest in any one particularly—that there was any symptom of her having forgotten. She is always cheery, always ready for everything—but, by the bye, have you heard when the trial is to take place? I hope soon, while we are over here. It would be much better that Grace should not be in England when it comes off. It would worry her, and rake up the past. Well! I hope you are coming out to us soon. We both want you awfully."
On the subject of invitations I may here give a characteristic note which Miss Ballinger received a few days after their arrival:
"My dear Miss Ballinger,—Will you and your brother give me the pleasure of your company at a blue dinner on the 28th of January, at 8 o'clock? I have selected this color, not because I am called a 'blue-stocking' by those who are amazed that a woman should know Greek, but to honor you and the country I adore. I shall never rest till Mr. Van Winkle is appointed Minister to Saint James's. I believe your Queen would be gratified by having at her court one woman representative alike of literature and fashion.