"I had a dream which was not all a dream." Byron.
 
"And we saw Medea burning
At her passion-planted stake."
Browning.
 
R
ichmond House at last was full of guests; every room was filled; peals of laughter, and silvery voices of ladies, and the deeper tones of gentlemen, made music through the long silent house, and scared the swallows from their homes in the eaves. The idle servants had enough to do now, and were tearing distractedly up stairs and down stairs, and here,[Pg 201] and there, and everywhere with a terrible noise and clatter, and all was gay bustle and lively animation.
Georgia, superb as a young empress, in purple satin, with a brilliant flush on her cheek, and a streaming light in her eyes, had never looked so handsome as that day when she received and welcomed her husband's guests. And when this ceremony was over, they were shown to their rooms to dress for dinner, and Richmond, with a gratified smile, congratulated her on the elegant manner in which she had performed her part. Georgia listened, and her cheek flushed deeper, and her eye grew brighter as she replied to his smile with one that made her face fairly radiant, and inwardly resolved that to merit his approbation, she would try to dissimulate, and try to be amiable and courteous to all, even to the detestable Miss Richmond.
 
The great dining-room of Richmond House was all ablaze that evening, and the long table fairly glittered and flashed with its wealth of massive silver and cut-glass; and around it gathered all the gay guests from the city, and not a lady among them all was half so handsome or brilliant as the dark, bright girl, in her rich sheeny dress, who sat at the head of the table and did the honors.
 
A very select party they were whom Richmond Wildair had invited. There was Colonel Gleason, a tall, pompous-looking gentleman; and Mrs. Gleason, a stiff, frigid lady, not unlike Mrs. Hamm; then there was a Mrs. Harper, a buxom, jolly-looking matron; and her two daughters, dashing, stylish-looking girls, who had never been guilty of a blush in their lives. There, too, was Miss Reid, a silent, languid, delicate-looking young lady, reminding one of a fragile wax japonica; and a Mr. Lester, one of those irresistible bipeds known as "Broadway swells," who never[Pg 202] pronounced the letter R. and had the nicest little bits of feet and hands in the world. There was Lieutenant Gleason, the Colonel's eldest son, remarkable for nothing but a ferocious mustache and a pair of long and slender legs; and there was Mr. Henry Gleason, a youth of eighteen, who stared at the company generally through an eye-glass, and gave it as his opinion that there never was such a rum old house, or such a jolly stupid old place as Burnfield in the world before. There was Miss Arlingford, a pale, dark-eyed, pleasant-looking girl, and her brother, Captain Arlingford, a handsome, dashing young sailor—frank, off-hand, and brave, as all sailors are. And last, but by no means least, there was Mr. Dick Curtis, who on a certain interesting occasion had "stood up" with Richmond, and now, resplendent in a white vest and excruciating neck-tie, was making most anxious inquiries about our friend Emily Murray, about whom he said his private opinion, publicly expressed, was, that she was a "real nice girl—a regular stunner, sir, and no mistake!"
 
"Aw—should like to see her—weally," lisped Mr. Lester; "this heaw Burnfield seems so good at that sort of thing, you know—waising handsome gals, eh?" And the exquisite glanced with what he fancied to be an unmistakable look at his hostess, whose haughty lip, in spite of every effort, curled while meeting Captain Arlingford's laughing eye; she had to smile, too.
 
"I say, Lester," called Mr. Henry Gleason from across the table, "that must have been the little beauty we saw standing in the road as we drove up. By Jove! she was a screamer, a regular out-and-outer, a tip-top, slap-up girl," said the youth, enthusiastically.
 
"Henry, my dear," said his mother, looking shocked,[Pg 203] "how can you use such dreadful language? 'Slap-up!' I'm really astonished at you!"
 
"Well, so she was slap-up!" reiterated Master Henry, determinedly, "nothing shorter. Ask our Tom, or Lester, or any of the fellows, if you don't believe me."
 
"A true bill, Harry," replied his brother Tom, the hero of the ferocious moustache. "I say, Wildair, you'll have to present us."
 
"Couldn't, my dear fellow," said Mr. Wildair, laughing; "little Emily would fly in terror at sight of your gold lace and sword-knot. No chance of getting up a flirtation with her."
 
"Aw—couldn't expect anything bettah from a wustic; they ah not wuth the time spent in flirting, you know," drawled Mr. Lester, sipping his wine.
 
Georgia gave a sudden start, and, had looks the power to kill, poor obtuse Mr. Lester would never have murdered the king's English again. Glances were exchanged, and one or two malicious smiles curled sundry female lips. The gentleman looked down at their plates, and Richmond's mouth grew stern. Not one present but felt the words, save the noodle who had spoken, and that fast youth, Master Henry Gleason.
 
"Curtis is a goner, anyhow," said Master Henry, breaking the awkward silence; "he turned as red as a boiled lobster the moment he clapped his eyes on her. Eh, Curtis, you're a gone case, ain't you?"
 
"It's no use though, my dear fellow," said Richmond, recovering his bland look; "my little friend, Emily, wouldn't have you if you were President of the United States. Isn't that so, Georgia?" he said, gayly, appealing to his wife, who was conversing with Miss Arlingford and[Pg 204] her brother, the only two whom she did not positively dislike.
 
"I really do not know," she said, gravely, for she did not exactly relish this free use of Emily's name.
 
"And why, Wildair?" said Curtis, so earnestly that all laughed.
 
"Simply, my dear fellow, because you and she have antagonistic views on many subjects."
 
A change of theme was soon after effected by the ladies rising and seeking the drawing-room. There they dispersed themselves in various directions. The eldest Miss Harper sat down at the piano, in the hope of attracting the attention of Miss Arlingford, whom she professed a strong attachment for, on the principle of "let me kiss her for her brother," to change the song a little. But Miss Arlingford, who had taken a deep interest in the proud young lady of the house, sat down beside her and began to converse. The rest gathered in groups to chat or listen to the music, or turn over prints, until the entrance of the gentlemen—for which they had not to wait long, as that fast young scion of the house of Gleason had moved a speedy adjournment to the drawing-room, pronouncing the talk over the "walnuts and the wine" awfully slow without the girls. And immediately upon their entrance Master Henry crossed over to where Georgia and Miss Arlingford sat, and drawing up an ottoman, deposited himself at their feet, and began opening a conversation with his young hostess, whom, he had informed Captain Arlingford, he considered the greatest "stunner" he had ever seen in his life, and that, in spite of all people said about it, his opinion was that Rich Wildair had showed his good taste and good sense by marrying her.[Pg 205]
 
"Where's the other Mrs. Wildair—the dowager duchess, you know?" he said, by way of commencing.
 
"In her room," replied Georgia, with a smile. "She was rather fatigued after her journey, and would not come down to dinner. She will grace the drawing-room by her presence by and by."
 
"Horridly easily fatigued she must be," said Henry, who was one of those favored individuals who can say and do anything they like without giving offense. "Freddy Richmond's with her, I suppose?"
 
"Yes; she would not leave her aunt. Both will be here very shortly," replied Georgia.
 
Even as she spoke the drawing-room door opened, and a tall, hard-featured, haughty-looking, elderly lady entered, leaning on the arm of a small, wiry girl with little keen gray eyes, and hair which her friends called auburn, but which was red, and very white teeth, displayed by a constant, unvarying smile. A smiling face ought to be a pleasant one, but this freckled one was not. There was a cringing, fawning, servility about her which made most people, except those fond of flattery and adulation, distrust her, and which fairly sickened Georgia.
 
"Speak of the—," began Henry, sinking his voice pianissimo, and concluding the sentence to himself.
 
Georgia arose, and almost timidly approached them, and inquired of the elder lady if she felt better. Mrs. Wildair opened her eyes and favored her with a stare that was downright insolent; and then, before her slow reply was formed, Miss Freddy Richmond took it upon herself to answer, with a fawning smile:
 
"Thank you, yes—quite recovered. A night's rest will perfectly restore her."[Pg 206]
 
Georgia turned her flashing eyes down on the smiling owner of the ferret optics and red hair, and a hot "I did not address myself to you—speak when you are spoken to," leaped to her tongue; but Georgia was learning to restrain herself since her marriage, and so she only bit her lip till the blood started, at the open slight.
 
"Can we not get on, Fredrica?" said Mrs. Wildair, impatiently.
 
Georgia was standing before them, and now Miss Freddy, with her silkiest smile, put out her hand—a limp, moist, sallow little member—and gave her a slight push saying:
 
"Will you be kind enough, Georgia" (she had called her by her Christian name from the first, as if she had been a maid-of-all-work), "and let us pass. I see Mrs. Colonel Gleason over there, and Mrs. Wildair wants to join her."
 
Richmond, standing over Miss Harper, who was deafening the company with one of those dreadful overtures from "Il Trovatore," had not witnessed this little scene. Indeed, had he, it is probable he would have observed nothing wrong about it; but the gesture, the tone, and the insolent look—half supercilious, half contemptuous—that accompanied it, sent a shock through Miss Arlingford, brought a flush to her brother's cheek, and even made Master Henry mutter that it was a "regular jolly shame."
 
They brushed past Georgia as if she had been the housemaid, and she was left standing there before those who had witnessed the direct insult. Her head was throbbing, her face crimson, and her breath came so quick and stifled that she laid her hand on her chest, feeling as though she should suffocate. She forgot the curious eyes bent upon her—some in compassion, some in gratified malice[Pg 207]—she forgot everything but the insult offered her by the worm she despised. With one hand resting on the table to steady herself, for her brain was whirling, and with the other pressed hard on her bosom, she stood where they had left her, until Miss Arlingford arose, and taking her arm, said, kindly:
 
"The heat has made you ill, Mrs. Wildair; allow me to lead you to a seat."
 
She did not resist, and Miss Arlingford conducted her to a remote seat somewhat in the shadow, if such a thing as shade it could be called in that brilliantly lighted room. And then the young lady began talking carelessly about the music, without looking at her, until Georgia's emotion had time to subside and, outwardly at least, she grew calm. Outwardly—but, oh! the bitterness that swelled and throbbed in that proud heart until it seemed ready to burst, that left her white even to the very lips, that sent such a dreadful fire into her dusky eyes as if all the life in her heart had fled and concentrated there.
 
She did not hear a word Miss Arlingford was saying, she scarcely knew she was beside her; she did not know what was going on around her for a moment, until, with one grand crash that might have smashed a more firm instrument, Miss Harper arose from the piano and sailed over to where the young captain and Henry Gleason were talking, and made he............