"Oh! a thousand things," exclaimed Josephine, with sparkling eyes. "A ball, or private theatricals, or a masquerade—anything, in fact, would be delightful."
"A plain ball would never do after the fête and tableaux," said Ella Wynkar, decidedly.
"Whatever you do, I beg, don't let those simpering Mason girls get ahead of you," suggested Grace. "They've been rehearsing their tableaux for a fortnight, and they mean to have them perfect."
"What do you think of theatricals, then?" said Mr. Rutledge. "We can send for dresses, etc., from town, and we have plenty of time to rehearse. And, Arbuthnot, I know yon have all the requisites for a manager, and could bring out a play in excellent style."
"You will be astonished to find the amount of dramatic talent undeveloped in this company," exclaimed Victor. "All the improvement I can suggest is, that the play represented should be written for the occasion. Now, if I might be allowed, I should propose that Miss Wynkar and Captain McGuffy be named to write the play, and Ellerton, as the man of the most cultivated literary taste, and soundest judgment, be appointed to revise and correct it. The éclat of producing such an entirely original play, you must see, would be immense."
The irony of his speech was too broad for even the Wynkars to miss, and Ella colored angrily, while Ellerton, who was not a proficient at repartee, moved uneasily on his chair, and looked very wretched, till Mr. Rutledge came to the rescue with a few words, that, administering the keenest, quietest, politest possible reprimand to Victor for his impertinence, reinstated the objects of his ridicule in complacency again, and quite changed the face of the day. Victor bit his lip; these two liked each other less and less every day, it was but too evident. Victor's overbearing and tyrannical disposition found an incessant obstacle to its gratification in the iron will and better disciplined, but equally unyielding character of Mr. Rutledge. I tried in vain to remove Victor's prejudices against his host; but there was an angry flash of his eye whenever the subject was mentioned, that did not encourage me to continue it. And it was equally impossible not to resent Mr. Rutledge's misapprehension of Victor's character. In everything he misjudged him, and, it was evident, put down to the worst motive much that was only hasty and ill-judged. While my reason told me that he was often to blame, the injustice and harshness of Mr. Rutledge's judgment often roused my sympathy in his behalf, and that dangerous sentiment, pity, was creeping insensibly into my heart. He was, it was true, a man of no religious principle, but I had come to regard that as the inevitable result of his foreign education, and in no way his own fault. Then there was a light, careless tone in his conversation, a disregard of others, an almost imperceptible sneer, that a month ago I should have looked upon with alarm and distrust. But the subtle flattery of his devotion, the contrast between his manner and that of Mr. Rutledge, and, indeed, of all the others, had melted away these prejudices, and now I hardly saw, and only half blamed, the self-willed impetuosity and impatient sneering of the young foreigner, who, there could be no doubt, was daily becoming more unpopular among the party at Rutledge.
Our host had never liked him; Miss Churchill could not be expected to continue her favor, now that he took no pains to conceal what was the attraction for him at Rutledge; Grace had never cordially liked any one in her life, but Victor had been rather a favorite, till he had put down her sauciness, on one or two occasions, in such a manner as to make her as vehement in her dislike as her lazy nature rendered her capable of being; Ella Wynkar hated him—he laughed at her French, and never omitted an opportunity of turning her pretensions into ridicule; Ellerton had formerly been very much infatuated with the young Frenchman, who had carried all before him in society, and been so general a favorite, but Ellerton was too tempting a subject for Victor's humor, and he was very careless of his popularity; even with Phil and the captain he was growing indifferent and distant. Mrs. Churchill alone showed no change in her feeling toward him; he was only acting the part she meant him to act, and fulfilling the design she had in inviting him to accompany us. These feelings, and their causes, so apparent on a retrospective study of them, were, of course, by the restraints of good breeding, and the relative positions of all parties, studiously concealed, and only to be guessed at in unguarded moments.
"You are not going to follow the dramatic corps, I hope," said Victor, with a curl of his lip, as the party moved off to the library, to look over some plays and consult about the proposed entertainment.
"They would have asked me if they had wanted me, I suppose," I answered, reddening a little.
"Then, is there any law to prevent our staying where we are?" he asked, throwing himself back in the deep window seat opposite me. And there we passed the live-long morning, Victor idly twisting the worsteds of my work, and idly gazing out upon the storm, or in upon my face, and idly talking in his low, rich voice, and holding me, against my will, enthralled.