“Look a-here,� answered Bob Skinny severely, “doan’ you go fer to wex me; doan’ you wex nor aggrawate me. I done been ter Germany, and ’tain’t nobody d’yar ’cept po’ white trash. You’s de hade man o’ dem fiddlers, an’ I is de hade man o’ Mr. Richard Skelton, dat’s got mo’ lan’ an’ niggers en all de wuffless Germans put toge’rr.� Bob’s remarks were cut short untimely by Skelton’s appearing in the porch, when he became as mute as an oyster. Meanwhile the musicians had carried their instruments in, and began tuning up. Bob, however, could not refrain from tuning and blowing on his “fluke� at the most critical time, when his enemy, the German, was trying to give the pitch.
In a very little while the carriages began rolling up to the door, in the soft purple twilight of July. The Blairs and the Shapleighs were among the first to arrive. Sylvia was really pretty that night, and the excitement of the music and the Chinese lanterns and the fireworks that were being set off upon the river, which was all black and gold with the fire and darkness, was not lost upon her. Never had she seen such a ball; it was worth a dozen trips to the Springs.
Mrs. Blair, too, was in great form, and her turned wedding-gown set so gracefully upon her that she looked to be one of the best-dressed women in the room. Blair put on all his most charming ways, and honey-fuggled Mrs. Shapleigh and several other ladies of her age most audaciously. The women all smiled on him, and Elizabeth suffered the most ridiculous pangs of jealousy that could be imagined. But she was not quite like her old self; the possibilities of the future were always before her; her mind was too often engaged in picturing that dim future when she and Blair and Skelton would be dust and ashes, and her children might be leading a strange, brilliant, dazzling existence, which would be immeasurably removed from any life that she had ever known. And that strong but impalpable estrangement between Blair and herself—she was ashamed and humiliated when she thought of his investigation and prying and peering into Skelton’s affairs; and suppose, after all, Skelton should find a way out of it, and then they would get no fortune at all; and what a mortifying position would be theirs! for the whole county must know it—the whole county knew everything.
There was dancing in the main hall and cards in the library, and the lofty and beautiful drawing-rooms were for lookers-on. Skelton, who when he greeted her had pressed Sylvia’s hand for the pleasure of seeing the blood mount in her smooth cheek, asked if she was engaged for the first dance.
There was dancing in the main hall, and the drawing-rooms
were for lookers-on.—Page [224]
“Yes,� answered Sylvia. “I have been engaged for it for three weeks—� Skelton scowled; perhaps Sylvia was not as much under his spell as he fancied, but he smiled when Sylvia continued—“to Lewis Pryor.�
“The little scamp has circumvented me, I see,� he remarked, and did not seem displeased at the idea.
Lewis soon sidled up to Sylvia, proud and delighted at her notice. But it was all the notice he had, except from Mr. Conyers, who patted him on the head, and a smile from Mrs. Blair. The clergyman had come in response to a personal note as well as a card from Skelton, and walked about sadly, thinking on the vast and sorrowful spectacle of human nature even in the presence of so much fleeting joy. He had not been in the house an hour, though, before he came up to say good-night. There was not only much card playing going on in the library, but considerable betting, which was the fashion in those days, and to that Conyers was unalterably opposed.
“Mr. Skelton,� said he, coming up to him, “I must say good-night.�