Rutledge

by Miriam Coles Harris

I had left Esther still asleep when I came down. Félicie had undressed her and put her back in bed without arousing her. "You'd hardly let me go so quietly if you were awake, I think," I said to myself, as I bent down to kiss her.

I found myself much more excited than I meant to be, as the carriage drew near the Academy of Music. My excitement, however, had time enough to cool, for carriages choked the streets on every hand, and it was the work of half an hour to effect an entrance. The steps were crowded, the lobbies were crowded, the cloak-room was a hopeless crush, but the full sense of bewilderment did not overcome me, till following the captain and Mrs. Churchill, we ascended another pair of stairs, and passing through a side door, stood looking down upon the magnificent scene below. The captain said he had never seen anything finer in this country, so I felt at liberty to be enchanted with it. The decorations and lights were brilliant, the music delightful, and the sight of so many thousands of gaily-dressed people crowding the boxes, the passages, the floor, could not fail to excite the enthusiasm of one so new to such scenes as I was. To Josephine, on the other hand, the ball seemed by no means a wholly rapturous affair. A ruthless foot had trodden on her dress, and torn the lowest flounce; Phil was out of humor, and refused to be devoted; the captain had his hands full with mamma, and Josephine searched in vain among the crowd for the one or ones she wanted. We were in a private box, and too far from the floor to recognize the dancers easily, and by some neglect, the opera-glasses had been left in the carriage. Josephine was unspeakably annoyed. They might as well be looking out of the third-story window at home, she declared. For me, the scene was enough for the present, without any nearer interest in it. If I could have been further forward, it would have been pleasure enough to me to have looked on, but my aunt and cousin occupying the front of the box, left me no view of the house, but over their heads.

By and by, however, the door of the box opened, and Mr. Rutledge entered. He had exchanged a few words with me before Josephine saw him; her face lighted up instantly, and after a cordial welcome from mamma, a place was made for him in front. This, however, he declined to occupy, as the captain had been on the ground before him, and was better entitled to the position. He had an opera-glass, which he handed to Josephine, and good humor was partially restored. The captain availed himself of the front seat, and criticised the dancers for madame's benefit; Phil stood behind his cousin's chair, and Mr. Rutledge was left to me. I knew this arrangement did not suit; I knew my aunt was hearing very little of the captain's commentary; I knew that Josephine, but for Phil's jealous watchfulness, would have paid much more heed to Mr. Rutledge's low conversation with me, than to her desired opera-glass. I remembered, but too vividly, the conversation at dinner; and though I struggled hard with my pride and my timidity, the words died on my lips, my answers were hesitating and reserved, and for the most part, insincere; I said the very things that, the next moment, I would have given worlds to have unsaid; I felt that every word was estranging us more hopelessly, and yet there seemed a spell upon us—I could not be myself. The questions I had meant to ask him, if I should ever have a chance, the sentences of which I had said to myself a hundred times, I could now no more have uttered than if they had been in an unknown tongue.

When he spoke of Rutledge, the blood that always flashed into my face at the name, now rushed to my heart, and left me paler and more listless than before. If my manner wore any change while he talked of his return there in a few days, and of my friends, Kitty and Stephen, Madge and Tigre, it was an increased indifference and coldness. I said no more than "yes" when he asked me if I still remembered them with interest, and "I don't know exactly," when he asked what message he should take to them from me. Then he changed the subject, and with his accustomed way of reading my face while he talked, he asked me about my impressions of society. Which was most to my taste now, city or country?

"I don't know exactly," I said, hesitatingly.

"I think I know," he said, with a laugh that nettled me, low and pleasant as it was. "I think there is small doubt about your preferences just now. You acknowledge my wisdom at last, do you not? You see it was best for you to come to the city?"

"Yes," I said, lifting my eyes for a moment. "You were very right. I ought to thank you very much for your advice."

"My dear," said my aunt, leaning toward us, "you cannot see at all there. You must take my place for a little while, I insist upon it."

The captain rose with great empressement, and insisted upon my accepting his seat, and in the midst of the confusion consequent upon this change, the door of the box opened again, and Mr. Viennet entered. Mr. Rutledge was placing a chair for me as I looked up and recognized the new comer. The chilled and frightened blood that had crept fluttering round my heart, at this moment rushed into my face, and burned guiltily in my cheeks, as I caught Mr. Rutledge's eye. Mr. Viennet, after a moment devoted to salutation, inquiry and compliment, entered a protest against our remaining any longer in such a detestable corner, pronouncing it detestable, in his charming little French way. No one could get at us; he had only found us by the merest chance. We must come downstairs—everybody was on the floor—everybody was dancing. He assured madame it was perfectly convenable; it was spoiling the pleasure of too many to hide ourselves any longer.

This met Josephine's views exactly, and she importuned "mamma" very prettily to yield. "Mamma" looked doubtingly for a moment at Mr. Rutledge, who responded to the look by saying that he really thought her strict ideas of propriety might allow this liberty without suffering any outrage. It was something new for New York, but these balls had taken very well, and the best people attended them, not only as spectators, but as participators. As for dancing, he said, with a slight shrug, he rather wondered at any lady's liking such an exhibition; but a promenade on the floor for half an hour or so, he really should think we would find more entertaining than remaining in our box.