Janet's Love and Service

by Margaret M. Robertson

“Sorry! no indeed! I have had a very pleasant evening.”

And so had they all. Mrs Grove had made a great effort to get a great many nice and clever people together, and she had succeeded. It had required an effort, for it was only lately, since his second marriage, that Mr Grove had affected the society of clever people, or indeed, any society at all. There were people who fancied that he did not affect it yet, and who pitied him, as he wandered about, or lingered in corners among the guests, that his more aspiring wife managed to bring together. He did not enjoy society much, but that was a small matter in the opinion of his wife. He was as little of a drawback to the general enjoyment, as could be expected in the circumstances. If he was not quite at his ease, at least he was seldom in anybody’s way, and Mrs Grove was quite able to do the honours for both. Mr Grove was a man whom it was not difficult to ignore, even in his own dining-room. Indeed, the greatest kindness that could be shown to the poor little man in the circumstances, was to ignore him, and a great deal of this sort of kind feeling was manifested towards him by his guests.

On the first entrance of Arthur and Graeme, their host fastened on the former, renewing with great earnestness a conversation commenced in the morning in the young man’s office. This did not last long, however. The hostess had too high an opinion of Mr Elliott’s powers of pleasing, to permit them to be wasted on her husband, so she smilingly carried him off, leaving Mr Grove, for the present, to the tender mercies of Graeme. He might have had a worse fate; for Graeme listened and responded with a politeness and interest to which he was little accustomed from his wife’s guests. Before he became unbearably tedious, she was rescued by Mr Ruthven, and Mr Grove went to receive Mr Elias Green, the great western merchant, a guest far more worthy of his attention than any of the fine ladies and gentlemen, who only knew him in the character of feast-maker, or as the stupid husband of his aspiring wife.

Graeme had seen Allan Ruthven often since that first night. They had spoken of the pleasant and painful things that had befallen them, since they parted so long ago, or they might not have been able to walk so quietly up and down the crowded rooms, as they did for a while. Then they found a quiet, or rather a noisy, corner in the music room where they pursued their conversation unmolested, till Harry brought Miss Elphinstone to be introduced to Graeme.

This was a mutual pleasure, for Graeme wished to know the young lady who had long been Rosie’s ideal of all that was sweet and beautiful, and Miss Elphinstone was as pleased to become the friend of one whom her cousins Allan and Charlie admired so much. And when she begged permission to call upon her and Rose, what could Graeme do, but be charmed more and more. Then Miss Elphinstone was claimed for another dance, and who should present himself again but their host, and with him the guest of the evening, the great western merchant! Then there were a few minutes not so pleasant, and then Mr Green proposed that they “should make the tour of the rooms.” But Graeme had not the courage for such an ordeal, and smilingly begged to be excused; and so he sat down beside her, and by and by, Graeme was surprised to find herself interested in his conversation. Before he had been a great merchant. Mr Green had been a farmer’s boy among the hills of Vermont, and when he knew that Miss Elliott had passed seven happy years in a New England village, he found enough to say to her; and Graeme listened and responded, well pleased.

She had one uncomfortable moment. It was when the supper movement began to be made, and the thought flashed upon her, that she must be led to the supper room, by this western giant. Mr Ruthven saved her from this, however, to the discontent of the giant, who had been so engaged in talking and listening, as not to have perceived that something interesting was about to take place. The sight of the freely flowing champagne gave Graeme a shock, but a glance at Harry reassured her. There was no danger for him to-night. Yes, they had all enjoyed it, they acknowledged, as they lingered over the fire after their return.

“But, Arthur,” said Graeme, “I was disappointed in Miss Grove. She is pretty, certainly, but there is something wanting—in expression I mean. She looks good tempered, but not intellectual.”

“Intellectual!” repeated Arthur. “No. One would hardly make use of that word in describing her. But she is almost the prettiest little thing I ever saw, I think.”

“And she certainly is the silliest little thing I ever saw,” said Harry. “Rosie, if I thought you capable of talking such stuff, as I heard from her pretty lips to-night, I would—”

Arthur laughed; less, it seemed, at what Harry had said, than at what it recalled.