A voyage of discovery

by Hamilton Aïdé

"Well, of course I saw nothing of that quiet sort of life. It was boating or riding, lawn tennis or picnics, with dancing or music of an evening, all the time."

"And is the result of your experience that you would like to live in England?"

"Well, I don't know. I had a very good time there, but I am awfully fond of my own country, my own people. I would require a great inducement to give them up. I suppose the truth is, it would all depend on the man. I should want to be very much in love."

"I am glad to hear that. It is supposed to be an antiquated idea, as much out of date here, I suppose, as with us. But as you have made so many friends in England, if you return there you are almost sure to find the man."

"I don't know about that. Papa doesn't want me to find him in England. Mamma doesn't mind, if the man has a good position." Here she turned, with her lovely smile, to Ballinger, and said, "Don't you want to give me some tea, Sir Mordaunt?"

As he handed the cup to her, his sister read in his eyes that he wished for her seat by Miss Planter; so Grace rose, and joined the two ladies at the tea-table. She could not help thinking that Mrs. Courtly was just a little bored by the conversation of the "dear woman." The desire not to be ranked as an ordinary Pittsburgher, but as a person belonging to the most exclusive circles in London and New York, was a little irritating. She could talk of nothing else. Pittsburgh was relegated to the dust-bin of things to be swept away, though there Père Planter was still amassing his dollars, and, while he allowed his spouse to spend them freely during the greater part of the year, constrained her to join him occasionally. Grace sat by and listened to Mrs. Planter's small fry of gossip, floating in a shallow bath of sentiments, and brought to the surface to nibble from time to time, by an "Ah!" or "Indeed!" from her hostess; much as an indolent fisher languidly casts a net, conscious that the only fish to be caught are insignificant and flabby.

There was a pleasant diversion, however, before long, caused by the arrival of Messrs. Laffan and Burton. The coming of the two Bostonians was hailed by Mrs. Courtly with pretty demonstrations of pleasure. She was never afraid of showing the satisfaction she derived from the presence of her men friends; and this frankness of demonstration was sometimes ill-naturedly commented upon by her own sex.

Miss Ballinger had met Mr. Laffan in London. Who had not met that gracious, elderly man of the world, who acted so long as a social bridge between the two countries? The bridge is now broken; others will arise in succession, but none will ever take exactly the place of that which is gone. It is needless to describe one so well known, who was always greeted with as much warmth in London as in his native city; it is enough to say that in Mrs. Courtly's house he was a special favorite, and a very constant visitor.

Mr. Burton, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity to Grace. She had never before met a romantic-looking American, with tender, dreamy eyes, and that soft, far-away manner which indicates a mind little fit to cope with the hard actualities of life. He had none of the brilliant incisiveness common to his countrymen; he would have been sadly at a loss in a contest with May Clayton. But it was not till after dinner, when he sat down to play, that she realized how much the man lived in a world of his own. He seemed to forget that he had an audience; he was talking to himself, as it were, in that sweet poet's language which only the chosen few can understand. As his soliloquy rambled on, through doubt, remonstrance, despair, from plaintive elegy to wild rhapsody, two at least among his hearers were stirred as though they were listening to the passionate struggles, the jubilant conquest of a troubled soul.

But Quintin Ferrars was not one of those to whom music speaks. He had arrived very late, and Grace had not seen him till just before dinner. At table the conversation was general, but later he sat down by Grace, who was next the piano, and began talking, regardless of the fact that Burton was playing. Twice Grace placed her finger on her lips, the third time Mrs. Courtly came up and shook her fan at him.