Mr. Macpherson had been glad to see her, and had shown it, and so had Emma and Rosamond, while Alice had offered her two fingers, and said, in a formal way, “Happy to meet you,” and Julia had offered one finger with a nod and a “how d’ye do, Gertie,” but Godfrey had not said one word! He had merely taken her hand and held it, and looked at her, not quite as friend looks at friend after an absence of years, but in a way which puzzled and perplexed her, and made her heart throb quickly, and the color deepen on her cheeks. How handsome he was, and how changed in some respects from the tall, slender youth, who seemed all legs and arms, but who now in the fulness of manhood was not one inch too tall. All the lankness of his boyhood was gone, but the grace and suppleness remained, and his erect form and square shoulders would have become the finest officer that ever drilled his pupils at West Point. On the face, once so smooth and fair, there was a rich brown beard now, and the hair had taken a darker tinge, and curling a little at the ends lay in thick masses around his broad white brow. Even his eyes were softened, though they still brimmed with fun and mischief, and tenderness, too, as Gertie knew when they were gazing into hers.
“What do you think of Godfrey?”
It was Tom Barton who asked the question, and starting from her dreamy attitude, Gertie replied:
“I think him the most splendid-looking man I ever saw.”
“That’s so,” Tom answered, warmly, while Gertie, who had no wish to talk with him further then, passed into the house and went to her own room.
It was six o’clock, and with a hasty glance at herself in the mirror, and a thought that her personal appearance mattered nothing to any one, she went down to the parlor, where the family usually assembled before going in to dinner. They were all there now, talking and laughing in little groups, except Godfrey, who stood apart from the others, leaning his elbow on the mantel and watching the door as if expecting some one to enter. He had mentally commented on the ladies as they came in, pronouncing Edith beautiful, Julia handsome, Emma graceful and stylish, Rosamond pretty and sweet, and Alice stunning and fashionable; and now he was waiting for the girl in the simple white muslin, who came at last, without the aid of Parisian toilet or ornament of any kind, and eclipsed the whole, just as the morning sun obscures the daylight and makes itself the centre of light and glory. There was no shadow of embarrassment perceptible as she entered the parlor, but her manner was that of a daughter of the house rather than an inferior, as she crossed the long room and joined the group by the bay-window. There was a supercilious stare from Julia, a little nod from Alice, and a welcoming smile from Edith, Emma, and Rosamond; and then the conversation flowed on again until the dinner-bell rang, and the party filed off in pairs to the dining-room. As a matter of course, Godfrey took Alice, while Julia fell naturally to Robert, and Tom was left with three girls on his hands.
“I can’t beau you all, so I guess I’ll take my pick,” he said, as he offered his arm to Gertie, while his sister and Emma followed behind.
And so it came about that Tom was seated between Gertie and Julia Schuyler, who, not satisfied with the attentions of Mr. Macpherson, tried her best to attract Tom also, and keep him from talking to Gertie.
“Not any wine?” she said, as he drew his glass away when the decanter was passed. “That is something new. You’ll surely take a little with me. It is some of father’s very best.”
Tom knew that as well or better than she did, and the smell and the demon in the cup moving itself upright was tempting him sorely, while Julia’s seductive smile and words of entreaty were more than he could endure, and forgetting what even a taste involved he raised the glass, while Rosamond, sitting opposite, looked pale and anxious, and distressed. But ere a drop had touched his lips, a hand pressed his arm, and a soft voice said, “Don’t.”