"Who is that beautiful girl talking to Mr. Manning?" queried he, raising his eyegla.s.s with an air of interest.

"I shall present you in due time," said Mrs. Arnold, with a faint smile revealing the most exquisite set of teeth that eye ever beheld.

As if by intuition Marguerite cast her eyes towards the aspirants and the action brought a faint blush.

"Beautiful as Hebe, by Jove," exclaimed the rubicund major, in an undertone that implied he was also deeply interested in the fair young face and graceful supple form.

How the manoeuvering mamma watched each sign of admiration thus directed towards her daughter.

"If I can only accomplish my wishes my life will be one uninterrupted calm. I will then lay me down in peace," thought Mrs.

Verne, as she re-arranged the folds of her silken train to her entire satisfaction.

Hubert Tracy had been detained on a fishing excursion up the Cam, whither he had gone with some rollicking companions to recruit his health and restore some of the youthful bloom that dissipation had almost destroyed.

Marguerite could ill conceal her disgust as she met the weak-minded and, to her, contemptible young man, on the week following.

It was at a brilliant a.s.semblage, under the patronage of Mrs.

Montague Arnold.

Never was maiden more becomingly attired, for despite her friends'

entreaties, Marguerite's taste was simplicity, indeed. Her modest pearl-colored satin was relieved by knots of delicate pansies--one of Marguerite's many favorite flowers--and the delicate and chaste silver ornaments, made her toilet simply bewitching.

"Mrs. Arnold is imperial, but Miss Verne is truly angelic," was the exclamation of a man of fashion, and the leader of his club, as the two sisters stood side by side receiving the brilliant throng of guests that filled to overflowing the gorgeously lighted parlors, sumptuous drawing-room and bewitching conservatories.

Why was it that Marguerite shrank from the touch of Hubert Tracy's hand as if stung by an adder? Why was it that, when she was obliged to listen to his flattering, oily tongue, that she saw the manly dignified form of Phillip Lawson standing between, with his hand uplifted, as if in gesture of warning, and a stern reproachful look upon his honest face?

These are questions that will be answered some day when the world is older and wiser--when the great road to science will have been trodden further on towards the goal which shall reveal all mysteries in the light of simple truths--when man can look a fellow being in the face and trace each thought written there.

Mrs. Arnold was in the confidence of her husband's friends, and she had partly deceived her mother to carry out her designs.

Mrs. Verne had hitherto set her heart upon Hubert Tracy, but she was now flattered by the admiration paid to Marguerite by several of the n.o.bility, and she thought it would indeed be a rare distinction for her daughter to have a t.i.tle.

"I see how it is with mamma, and if I am not sharp she will nonplus me," thought the beauty, as she watched the game which her anxious mother was playing so skilfully, and, as the latter thought, so successfully.

"But I will do nothing rash. Nothing succeeds like caution," and musing thus Mrs. Arnold placed her jewelled fingers in those of her partner and was whirled away to revel in the delightful elysium of waltzland.

CHAPTER XXI.

MRS. ARNOLD CONFIDES IN HUBERT TRACY.

Mrs. Arnold's beauty was commented upon by the fashionable throng with whom she daily mingled. She was sought after and courted by her many admirers; yet among them all there was none who thought her the most charming of her set.

The wily beauty had adopted a line of policy that was not the most discreet. She showed a spiteful spirit towards any of her s.e.x who laid claim to personal charms, and often said many bitter things in a way that was neither dignified nor ladylike.

It was in such a spirit that Mrs. Arnold returned from a grand ball where she had seen Lord Melrose pay marked attention to the pretty Mrs. Maitland. With anger in her bosom she strode the elegant boudoir with measured beat and vowed vengeance upon her more fortunate rival.

"Why does any one envy me the charms I possess?

"Ah, me!" she cried, looking at herself in the mirror with her hands poised in the att.i.tude of a Caryatid. "It is all I have. Happiness I shall never know; but one thing I do know--that I will laugh, dance and sing and have a merry life while I am young, and then when my charms have fled to a younger form I will bury myself in some remote convent and try to make atonement for my gay and worldly life."

It were strange, indeed, that Mrs. Arnold had this sense of wrong.

She did, indeed, realize that her actions were not what any sensible woman would justify, yet she took refuge in the thought that when she grew old there was time enough for discretion.

Another trait of her disposition: It grieved her to see others happy. Like the arch fiend who turned aside with envy when he beheld the happy pair in the Garden of Eden and from that hour plotted their ruin, so Mrs. Arnold from, sheer envy was determined that the innocent and pure-minded Marguerite should be a.s.sociated with the coa.r.s.e side of humanity--in short, that she should become familiar with the fashionable miseries of a fashionable woman.

But Mrs. Arnold reckoned without her host. She met with more opposition than she expected, and the lesson she yet had to learn cost her a bitter experience!

Mrs. Verne's vascillating nature was a source of much annoyance to her first-born.

"It is so provoking," murmured Mrs. Arnold, as she noted the infatuation her mother possessed for a certain baronet of a distinguished Yorkshire family.

"I've set my mind upon Hubert, and mamma must yield. As for Madge, she is out of the matter entirely."

As if in answer to her thoughts the young man was soon at her side looking quite interesting.

"You naughty boy; I am inclined to be angry with you--not one dance have you sought."

"From the very fact that I cannot have one. Ah, Mrs. Arnold, you well know how to amuse yourself at the expense of us poor unfortunates," said Mr. Tracy, glancing at the tablet already filled for every dance.

"I have a mind to cancel this," said he, pointing to that of the Yorkshire baronet.

"No, indeed, Mr. Tracy; that would be pleasure at too great a sacrifice. I have a motive for entertaining the baronet."

Mrs. Arnold smiled one of her peculiarly attractive smiles, significant of the part she was to enact.

She whispered a few well-directed, words into the young man's ear, and taking his arm led him to the conservatory.

"I can only stay a couple of minutes at the least, so I wish you to be all attention."

Hubert Tracy seated himself beside Mrs. Arnold and listened to her dear confiding tones.

"Mr. Tracy, I despise that Yorkshire bore, with his coa.r.s.e English and stupid manners. And his effrontery in presuming to play the suitor to Madge. It is all your own fault. You follow at a distance and have not the courage to claim your rights--"

"Rights!"

"Yes; I say rights, Mr. Tracy. I say that you have a right to claim Madge, because we always looked upon you as her future husband. The girl knows not her own mind, but she will never go against mamma's wishes, and I know that she cares for you, though she will not own it."

"If I thought so I would be happy, for if any woman will ever reclaim me it will be Marguerite Verne."

"Such talk, Mr. Tracy; I'm sure you are no worse than the general run of men. Pray don't talk of reclaiming; that sounds as if you had committed something dreadful."

Just then there arose before Hubert Tracy's vision the sad picture of a brave young man, struggling so hard to prove his innocence when circ.u.mstances are all against him. He sees the reproachful gaze of the sorrowful eyes, and he stops his ears to keep back the sound of the reproachful tones that force themselves upon him.

But Mrs. Arnold knows it not.