"To say," pursued Mr. Curtis, casting a withering glance at the speaker, "as that very polite youth, whoever he may be, has falsely informed you I have already said, that Mr. Wildair, his excellency," said Mr. Curtis, with a dignified wave of his hand, "has commissioned me to say—I beg your pardon, sir; you're standing on that lady's dress—to say that the lady you beheld this evening is his wife, who has been indulging in a little trip to Europe with his—(ahem!)—full approbation, while he was seeing after the great, glorious, and immortal Union in Washington, and scattering political oats—to use a figure of speech—before that tremendous bird, the American eagle; and the lady arriving quite promiscuously, if I may be allowed so strong an expression, he was slightly surprised to see her—(ahem!)—as you all perceived, and has just gone to have a little friendly chat with her over family matters and kitchen cabinet affairs generally. And so, ladies and gentlemen," concluded Mr. Curtis, laying his kid glove on his heart and bowing gracefully, "I hope his temporary absence will not plunge you into too deep affliction, or cause you to feel too dreadfully cut up, but that you will set seriously to work and enjoy yourselves, while I represent his excellency, and during his absence receive your homage. And to conclude, in the words of Demosthenes, the great Latin poet, who beautifully observes, 'E Pluribus Unum,' a remark which I hope none of you will consider personal, for I solemnly assure you it was not meant to be, as I haven't the remotest idea of what it means. If any further particulars are needed," said Mr. Curtis, drawing himself up, and casting another glance of withering scorn upon Mr. Henry Gleason, "I must refer you to the young gentleman who was good enough to interrupt me, and who stands there now, a mark for the finger of scorn to poke fun at. Ladies and gentleman, I have spoken! Long may it wave."
And with this last "neat and appropriate" quotation, Mr. Curtis bowed and blushingly retired, leaving his audience in convulsions of laughter, for his unspeakably droll look and solemn tone no pen can describe. It had the good effect, however, of diverting their attention from Mr. Wildair and his wife for the present; and Mr. Curtis the center of a laughing group, while his own face maintained its expression of most doleful gravity, became for the time being the lion of the hour. With edifying meekness did Mr. Curtis stand, "his blushing honors thick upon him," until getting rather tired of it, he made a signal to the band to strike up, and selecting Miss Arlingford for his partner, a quadrille was formed and dancing commenced with real earnestness, and the business of the evening might be said to have begun.
But when an hour passed and the lady whose entree had created such a sensation did not appear, impatient glances began to be cast toward the conservatory, and petulant whispers to circulate, and pouting lips wondered why they did not come. In vain Mr. Curtis was "funny;" his popularity was waning as fast as it had risen, and it was all a waste of ammunition. His jokes were unattended to, his puns were unlaughed at, his most dolorous looks had no effect on the risibles of any, except those who had a very keen sense of the ludicrous. At last, in disgust at the fickleness of public favor, he got dignified and imposing, and that had the effect of making sundry compressed lips smile right out loud, but it is uncertain whether even this would have lasted any time had not, suddenly, Richmond Wildair appeared with his wife leaning on his arm.
In an instant a profound hush of expectation reigned throughout the room; the music instantaneously stopped; the dancers one and all paused, and every eye was bent upon them. A low, respectful murmur of admiration ran round the room at her queen-like beauty, but it lasted only an instant, and all was again still.
"My friends," said the clear, powerful voice that a short time before had dispersed the surging crowd, "this lady, as you are all probably aware, is my wife. There is not one here who has not heard a thousand vague, floating rumors why we were separated, and now I feel it necessary to say a few words of explanation, and silence the tongue of scandal forever. A misunderstanding, slight and unimportant at first, such as will arise at times in all families, was the cause. No blame, not the faintest shadow of blame, attaches to this lady; if blame there be, it solely belongs to me. A mutual explanation and a perfect reconciliation have ensued, and if any one for the future shall canvass the motives which caused us for a brief time to part, I will consider that person my willful enemy. Ladies and gentlemen, let this pleasant but unexpected incident not interfere with the amusements of the evening, and as example is better than precept, I shall join you. Come, Georgia."
He motioned to the musicians, and the dancers again formed, with Mr. and Mrs. Wildair at their head. And then, when the quadrille was ended, all came flocking round to be presented to his beautiful wife, whose Juno-like beauty and grace was the theme of every tongue. And for the remainder of the evening "all went merry as a marriage bell." If anything were wanting to add eclat to the inauguration of the new governor this supplied it, and every one grew perfectly enthusiastic about the gifted young statesman and his beautiful wife. So romantic and mysterious as it all was, "just like something in a play or a novel," as Mr. Curtis said, that the excitement it created was perfectly unheard of, and when the ball broke up and the company dispersed, in the "wee sma' hours ayont the twal," they even forgot they were sleepy and tired, and talked away of the unexpected denouement, and electrified their friends when they got home with the wonderful news.
"And now, Georgia," said Richmond, "tell me what has changed you so. I can scarcely tell how it is, but it seems as if you were the Georgia I once knew etherealized—the spiritual essence of Georgia Darrell; as if you had cast off a slough and stepped forth radiant, serene, seraphic."
"Flatterer!" said Georgia, smiling, yet serious, too. "But oh, Richmond! I fear you will be angry when I tell you."
"Angry at anything that has made you just what I wanted, just what I tried to make you and failed! Not I, Georgia. Tell me what elixir of happiness and inward joy have you found."