Paul, who had urged her coming, could not repress a smile, but when a big wave came rolling in and nearly knocked her down, he went to her at once and said, “Let me help you. The sea is rough this morning. Come out where it is deeper and away from the stones. I won’t let you fall.”
He led her out to where the water came nearly to her waist, and then, holding both her hands in his, danced her up and down, she protesting that he was beating the breath out of her body, while the dog, Sherry, who always took his bath with his master, swam around them in circles, barking furiously and making occasional dashes at Miss Hansford’s dress, which still floated in spite of Paul’s efforts to keep it down. Everybody stood still to watch the proceeding and everybody laughed. Jack Percy, who was near her on a raft, ready to dive, called out, “Go it, old gal. You waltz first rate. Where did you get your hat and what’ll you take for it?”
Then, with a whoop, he made the plunge and sent great splashes of water into the face of the indignant woman, who hurried to the shore and, divesting herself of her wet clothes, went home so enraged with Jack that she never forgave him until years after, when she wiped the death sweat from his face and felt that she would almost give her own life to save his.
CHAPTER V.
CLARICE.
The next summer Mrs. Percy bought a pretty little cottage on Oceanside, which she occupied season after season, while Jack grew to manhood and Clarice to a brilliant, beautiful girl. Mrs. Percy was a delicate woman, and, aside from the cheapness of the place compared with more fashionable resorts, the quiet and rest suited her, and she found her pleasant, airy cottage a delightful change from her rather stuffy house in Washington, with negro huts crowded close to it in the rear. Clarice, on the contrary, detested it and the people, and took no pains to conceal her dislike. She was a haughty girl, with all the pride of the Percys, from the bondman down to old Roger, her grandfather, who, up to the last, wore his dress suit to dinner when there was nothing better than bacon and eggs. She gloried in such pride as that, she said, and respected him far more than if he had sat down to his bacon and eggs in his shirt sleeves. She knew her father had been a Treasury clerk, but he was a Percy and a gentleman, and she had no fault to find with him except that he did not leave more money. She wanted to be rich and live in the style of rich people. She would like to have had a large establishment, with housekeeper and butler and maids and horses and carriages, and she meant to have all this some time, no matter at what sacrifice. Given her choice between a man she loved who was poor, and a man she didn’t love who was rich and not obnoxious to her, she would unhesitatingly have taken the latter and overlooked any little escapades of which he might be guilty, provided he gave her all the money she wanted. In marrying Paul Ralston she was getting everything she desired,—family, position, love and money. She had had Paul in her mind for some time as a most desirable parti, provided one more desirable was not forthcoming. In Washington, where her beauty attracted a great deal of attention, she was much sought after by men who, while pleasing her in many respects, lacked the one thing needful.
In Oak City, to which she always went unwillingly, she frequently met men of her style,—class she called it,—and in this class Paul stood pre-eminent. With Ralph Fenner, whom Miss Hansford had designated as a snipper-snapper, she had flirted outrageously, but with no serious intent. He was too poor, and, although there was a title in his family, there were three lives between it and himself. To marry him would not pay, and over and above any other reasons which might influence her, she had a genuine liking for Paul, and when he asked her to be his wife she unhesitatingly answered yes.
After the betrothal there was no happier man in Paris than Paul Ralston. He went everywhere Clarice wished to go, from the Grand Opera House to the Champs d’Elysees, where Jenny Mills delighted a not very select audience with her dancing. He accompanied her and her mother on their shopping expeditions for the bridal trousseau, most of which was to be made in Paris. It was on one of these occasions that he thought of Miss Hansford and suggested getting her a dress to wear to his wedding.
“Do you propose to invite her?” Clarice asked, in some surprise, and he replied, “Certainly. She is one of my best friends. I wouldn’t slight her for the world.”
“An announcing card will answer every purpose,” was Clarice’s next remark.
Paul did not think it would. He wanted Miss Hansford to see him married. It would please her, and she had always been so kind to him. Clarice made a little grimace and said, “Let’s get her a dress, then, by all means. I want her to look decent if she comes,” and she selected the grey silk at his request, and made some additions to it in the way of laces and gloves, which last he forgot to take with him when he carried the dress to Miss Hansford.