Masterson was waiting impatiently for the Colonel, whom he had only seen for the most brief exchange of words that morning. It was now noon. He had important news to communicate before that guard arrived for Monroe; it might entail surprising disclosures, and the minutes seemed like hours to him, while Judge Clarkson leisurely presented one paper after another for Kenneth’s perusal and signature, and Mrs. McVeigh listened and asked advice.
Judithe descended the stairs, radiant in a gown of fluffy yellow stuff, with girdle of old topaz and a fillet of the same in quaint dull settings. The storm had grown terrific––the heavy clouds trailing to the earth and the lightning flashes lit up dusky corners. Evilena had proposed darkening the 357 windows entirely, lighting the lamps to dispel the gloom, and dressing in their prettiest to drive away forgetfulness of the tragedy of the elements; it was Kenneth’s last day at home; they must be gay though the heavens fell.
Thus it was that the sitting room and dining room presented the unusual mid-day spectacle of jewels glittering in the lamplight, for Gertrude also humored Evilena’s whim to the extent of a dainty dress of softest sky blue silk, half covered with the finest work of delicate lace; she wore a pretty brooch and bracelet of turquoise, and was a charming picture of blonde beauty, a veritable white lily of a woman. Dr. Delaven, noting the well-bred grace, the gentle, unassuming air so truly refined and patrician, figuratively took off his hat to the Colonel, who, between two such alluring examples of femininity, two women of such widely different types as the Parisian and the Carolinian, had even been able to make a choice. For he could see what every one but Kenneth could see plainly, that while Miss Loring was gracious and interested in her other men friends, he remained, as ever, her one hero, apart from, and above all others, and if Judithe de Caron had not appeared upon the scene––
Gertrude looked even lovelier than she had the night before at the party. Her cheeks had a color unusual, and her eyes were bright with hope, expectation, or some unspoken cause for happiness; it sounded in the tones of her voice and shone in the happy curves of her lips as she smiled.
“Look at yourself in the glass, Gertrude,” said Evilena, dragging her to the long mirror in the sitting room, “you are always lovely, dear, but today you are entrancingly beautiful.”
“Today I am entrancingly happy,” returned Miss Loring, looking in the mirror, but seeing in it not herself, but Judithe, 358 who was crossing the hall, and who looked like a Spanish picture in her gleam of yellow tissues and topazes.
“Wasn’t it clever of me to think of lighting the lamps?” asked Evilena in frank self-laudation, “just listen how that rain beats; and did you see the hail? Well, it fell, lots of it, while we were dressing; that’s what makes the air so cool. I hope it will storm all the rain down at once and then give us a clear day tomorrow, when Kenneth has to go away.”
“It would be awful for any one to be out in a storm like this,” remarked the other as the crash of thunder shook the house; “what about Captain Monroe having to go through it?”
“Caroline said the guard has just got here, so I suppose he will have to go no matter what the weather is. Well, I suppose he’d just as soon be killed by the storm as to be shot for a spy. Only think of it––a guest of ours to be taken away as a spy!”
“It is dreadful,” assented Gertrude, and then looking at Judithe, she added, “I hope you were not made nervous by the shot and excitement last night; I assure you we do not usually have such finales to our parties.”