Fully protected by this impenetrable darkness, Guy made his way to a secluded corner of the deck, where, besides being isolated and free from observation, he could both hear and see the merriment that was now at its height within. A soft, sleepy sort of breeze was blowing from the water, and now and then heated participators of the dance drew near the little windows to catch the cool breath of heaven as it stole in.
Guy sat silently and pensively smoking his expensive cigars, planning and plotting all sorts of things to the accompaniment of bewitching strains of twittering waltz music and peals of merry laughter from within. He became distracted now and then in spite of himself, wandering away from his important mental problems to yield to the influence of association and remembrance which stole over him in a sad sort of pleasant way. Here was just the kind of evening he had once enjoyed immensely, and might possibly enjoy again; there were all the same faces he had seen countless times upon countless occasions before laughing and chatting merrily. One or two couples out of the crowd who had been in the first grade of love-sickness when he last saw them, now seemed to belong more emphatically to one-another than before, and the sadder but wiser looking fellows who followed some of these developed ladies about gallantly, were loaded with satchels and shawls and other feminine tackle which strangely became them in Guy's eyes; they danced less, flirted less than they used in Guy's days, but then matrimony has its martyrs and its sacrifices, like every other institution, and the thorns and roses grow on the one branch. Some are unfortunate enough indeed in culling the matrimonial nosegay, for very soon the over-mature rose falls in withered beauty to the ground, leaf by leaf, and the disconsolate admirer stands open-mouthed and sorry, with a bare stalk of healthy thorns between his finger and thumb, but it is mostly his own doing, for even if his fair enchantress has spared him the disagreeable necessity of "popping the question," she had left him the power to decline.
Guy learned more of practical life from his nook in the dark on this festive night, than a year's ordinary observation could ever have taught him. He shook his head in amused pity once or twice as he recognized some of his "old friends" among the gay crowd; how well he knew of old that some of those civil servants had likely made the tour of whole departments that afternoon to borrow the half-dollar admission fee that granted them all this pleasure to-night, fellows who had been rollicking all their lives, who had not hesitated over anything, who would as soon fall in love with a troupe of bouncing actresses, and follow them around from city to city, as they would eat their dinner, and yet he could see the gratification of unsuspecting girls as these destitute enthusiasts sought and enjoyed their company. It amused Guy to see some of them actually looking serious, as they led some fair creature on their arm through the moving circle of the dance; or bent suspiciously over the chair of some golden-haired beauty on the deck. Guy tried to improvise a consistent sequel to these little love-signs, but it grew ridiculous naturally enough, he gathered all these interesting little circumstances within the limits of "a plain gold ring," but these are "deuced" narrow limits for two healthy people and one small income to thrive in.
He tried to imagine the placid pretty faces of the patient pampered blondes and brunettes, if these same devoted ones, now so interesting as lovers, were to come home some luckless evening as prosy husbands and say "Eva," or "Bee," or "Ada, it's all up with us now, the bailiff will be here in the morning, I knew this sort of high life couldn't last—" and then to fling himself down in democratic contempt on the parlor sofa, with its dainty tidies and cushions of "appliqué" or pale-blue satin, and use its rosewood or mahogany framework as the commonest bootjack. Of course a fellow is always sure that these ornamental little wives have no other consolation for themselves or any one else, but in the copious tears that swell up into their pretty eyes, they must sit down and sob to break their dear little hearts with every now and then a hysterical sentence from behind the dainty lawn handkerchief, saying "what will everyone think? What will Lady Featherly say? We wont be asked to any more 'at homes' now, and the ball at 'Rideau' is next week, oh dear—boo—hoo—hoo!" Of course the merciless husband gets mad because his poor little helpless wife sees fit to weep over a fate that must disgrace her in the eyes of the social world. She wouldn't mind being refused everywhere for "credit" as long as they had enough to eat and "kept up appearances," and she knows very well that no one will believe her when she says she and "Percy" gave up house-keeping as a "nuisance." Then there are those who will be delighted over her reverse, the ones she never would invite to her five o'clock teas or evening parties, will chuckle now over her misfortune, she tells herself bitterly. How can she do without servants, she who has never brushed her own hair all her single life. She can only cry and be sorry she ever married. She is so unequal to such awful responsibilities. Asking herself what she could do to assist "Percy" in this catastrophe, only gives her another fresh grief to realize. She sees that lawn-tennis is a useless accomplishment before the bailiffs threat, dancing or singing, or good looks are equally worthless in such a dilemma, high-toned friends are of no avail, they drop the acquaintance generally, under such circumstances.
The helpless little beauties must then break their hearts in grief, they cannot do what less accomplished or less fashionable girls would be able to do in such a moment, how could anyone expect them to say, "Let us dismiss the servant, I know my household duties as well as she, henceforth I will make your shirts and knit your stockings, leave off these expensive places of amusement, I have not been accustomed to them and can live without them." How can they do this who have lived a single life so inconsistent with the acquirement of such rude accomplishments as characterize the daughters of respectable but far less fashionable citizens than their fathers. A sudden stop in the dreamy waltz hurled Guy back from the mysteries of the future he had undertaken to unravel, he laughed inwardly as he re-settled himself comfortably on his chair, at the vagaries his fancy had indulged in at the sad expense of these unconscious couples, who were as happy in their present state of mutual appreciation as though no cloud however dark and heavy in the coming future could dim the brightness of this hour.
'T'were hard to tell what other extravagant freaks Guy may not have indulged in after this, for the orchestra had ceased grating its instruments into accord, and was inviting the dancers to join in a gay "Rush Polka," but the sound of voices near him caught his ear suddenly and he started up in a listening attitude. There was no mistaking—he leaned farther away from the little window from whence streamed a flood of lamplight, and holding his breath, he listened eagerly for the next words.
"I was inclined to call for Honor," said one, "but I felt so certain of meeting her here that I deemed it unnecessary."
The words came plainly, not loudly, but distinctly to Guy's hearing as they crossed Vivian Standish's lips; he recognized the bland deceptive voice and set his teeth in contempt; he had come to Ottawa, for the sole purpose of hunting up this gallant hero and a kind fortune had placed him within his very hands. Another voice broke the ensuing silence, one that had a great effect on Guy, for he could only remember the familiar strains of his uncle's voice by its ruins, it was weak and tremulous and uncertain, its saddened tones touched Guy considerably.
"You see," the old man was saying "you never can rely much on girls, Honor was taken with such a bad headache to-night that she preferred we would leave her behind, Madame d'Alberg insisted on my coming, since I was well enough for the first time in a long while."
"Certainly, you should not have missed the trip," Vivian answered, "but I am sorry that Honor should be indisposed, I wanted her particularly to-night."