Both regarded her in the light of a prize worth having, though each looked on the achievement from a different point of view. One seriously hoped to win it without the formulary of the wedding ring—the other with that aid, but with the addition also of a golden store.
Helen Grahame was unquestionably beautiful. The heightened colour of her cheek, the sparkling dancing of her brilliant eye, as she observed the impression her personal attractions had made upon the two young highborn men, greatly enhanced that beauty, which excited admiration even when in repose. It kept them at her side, and engrossed the largest share of their attention.
With a woman’s quickness of perception, Helen saw that she should soon have both these men suitors for her favour, sighing at her feet for her love. The gracefully fashioned form of Lester Vane pleased her eye and taste—the ducal coronet of his bulky friend roused her ambition and dazzled her; and she foresaw that she should be perplexed, when, as she instinctively knew would be the case, both wooed her, which to prefer. It was something to have a handsome “Honorable” for a husband—but to be a duchess!—ah!
Why at the moment did she sigh so sharply?—why did a spasm run through her frame, and make her clutch convulsively at a chair for support? Was it that this momentary pang reminded her that in neither decision would her heart be enlisted, or that there was another and more grave consideration which rendered such a speculation a forbidden subject?
After the common-places which usually attend an introduction, Mr. Grahame suggested that the guests should be shown to their respective rooms, where they might remove the traces of their journey, and prepare their toilet for dinner, to be served at half-past eight—a suggestion which was somewhat readily accepted, and appeared to be grateful to all parties.
The Duke and the Honorable Lester Vane had heard Malcolm Grahame boast of his beautiful sister Helen and his proud sister Meg. They had availed themselves of his apparently unlimited command of money, and they considered that his family were enormously wealthy, but vulgar and common-place. When Malcolm invited them home to spend a week with him, at his “place” in London, they both, having “places” of their own in the great city, looked upon the invitation as a good joke, and accepted it in the same spirit. They each resolved to add to the favours they had bestowed upon him, by permitting him always to pay, by borrowing his money in return for their company, and by running off with the pretty sister, of whom he spoke so enthusiastically. They had even entered into a bet with each other as to which would prove successful.
They were, however, not a little surprised to find the Grahames living in a style of elegant luxury, and the members of it displaying a pride of bearing not even surpassed by the ineffably proud Somerset himself, whose wife—a Percy—never attempted the liberty of kissing him. They were equally posed to find the pretty sister a brilliant beauty, who could only be approached with deference and humility; who was not to be gained with a glance of passion, or won by the pretended asseverations of a love having no existence.
Lester Vane saw his course at once. His income was narrow, and during his father’s life would not be increased by inheritances or bequests from any branch of his family, near or remote. To gain a beautiful wife, with an enormous dowry, was precisely the means by which he purposed elevating himself to wealth, and within a few minutes after his introduction to Helen, he abandoned his criminal project, and took up the matrimonial one. He formed the determination, too, of thwarting, promptly and effectually, the Duke’s designs, without appearing to do so, until he was sure of the lady, because he knew not when and how he might require his interest and service.
The young Duke was quite thrown out, too, by what was presented to his astonished eyes. Malcolm Grahame, after all, was not the parvenu he had fancied him to be, and his sister, instead of being merely a pretty, silly girl, was one to grace a throne. His was not a nature easily to abandon a resolution once formed, and he thought of Helen as a mistress with a gratified emotion not to be described. A passion for her was at once raised in his heart. He, too, remembering his bet with Lester Vane, made his resolutions in respect to the intentions of his friend, but as his own in that particular remained unchanged, he decided upon preserving silence respecting it for the present.
Both the young men were therefore glad to escape to their rooms, to recover their surprise on finding themselves in an atmosphere they had not expected, and in contact with persons differing materially from the conceptions they had formed of them. They were anxious to reflect upon their line of conduct during their stay, and having well considered the path to choose, to follow it out.