Rising abruptly she walked over to the window and, parting the curtain, looked outside across the well-kept lawn. The giant elms on the place gained an added beauty in the moonlight. From where she stood she glimpsed the Cathedral, resembling, in the mellow glow from hidden arc lights, a fairy palace perched high upon a nearby hill, and far in the distance the twinkling lights of Washington, the City Beautiful. It was a view of which she had never tired since coming to her ancestral home when a tiny child.
The historic mansion, set in its ten acres, from which it derived its name, had been built by a Virginia gentleman over one hundred years before. He had occupied it with lavish hospitality until his death, after which his widow, a gracious stately dame with the manner and elegance of the veille cour, had led Washington society for many years. The wits, beaux, and beauties of the early nineteenth century, the chief executives, as they came and went, the diplomats and American statesmen, together with every foreigner of distinction who visited the capital city had been welcomed there, and as one Washingtonian whispered to another:
“A passport viséd by St. Peter would not be more eagerly sought by some of us than admission to these dear old doors.”
The prestige which clung to beautiful Ten Acres was one of the reasons which had induced John Meredith to purchase his brother’s share in it and, as his fortune grew with the years, to renovate the colonial mansion and make it one of the show places within the District of Columbia. With the exception of a wing added to increase its size, he had left the quaint rooms and corridors untouched in their old-time simplicity.
From her chair by her desk Mrs. Marshall Meredith watched her daughter in silent speculation. A woman of the world, entirely worldly, she had seen to it that Anne, her only child, had been provided with the best of education in a convent in Canada. Upon Anne’s graduation a year before, she had prevailed upon her brother-in-law, John Meredith, to give her a trip abroad before she made her debut.
John Meredith’s pride in his pretty niece had intensified with her success in society, and once again Ten Acres had become the center of social life. Diplomats, high government officials, and residential society sought eagerly for invitations to the banker’s lavish entertainments, and Mrs. Meredith’s pet ambition—a titled son-in-law—seemed nearer attainment.
Like a bolt from the blue had come Meredith’s extraordinary interest in David Curtis, a patient at Walter Reed General Hospital, his invitation for a week-end visit to Ten Acres, and now his ultimatum that his niece marry David Curtis within a week or leave his house forever.
Mrs. Meredith’s outlook on life was shaken to its foundations. Her frayed nerves snapped under the continued silence and she rose as Anne turned back from the window and advanced to the center of the room. She looked very girlish in her pretty dressing gown which she had donned just before her mother sent for her to come to their boudoir, and her chestnut hair, her greatest glory, was still dressed as she had worn it that evening at dinner. Her mother switched on another electric light and under its direct rays Anne’s unnatural pallor was intensified.
“It is cruel of Uncle John to force such a marriage,” she declared.
“You will agree to it?” The question shot from Mrs. Meredith. Anne shook her head. “But think of the alternative—”