Husband and wife -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
"Come, this looks more promising," was the reflection that glanced
through the stranger's mind as he drew back to allow his companion to
enter. The glare of light was almost blinding for a moment, but still
as she passed him he managed to catch a glimpse of her face--a mere
glimpse however. By what he saw of her features only, he would hardly
have been able to recognise her. Still, hurried as it was, his glance
satisfied him on one point--she was _very_ young, and he felt all but
certain, very pretty. But in a moment she had disappeared, how or where
he could not tell; so quickly that but for the remembrance of her voice
he could have imagined her altogether the offspring of his own fancy.
He stood still for a moment or two, feeling somehow confused and
bewildered, and very much inclined to rub his eyes or pinch himself to
make sure he was awake. Then suddenly he was recalled to himself by
hearing his own name sonorously announced, and in another moment he
found himself ushered into a large, richly furnished drawing-room, all
mirrors and gilding, damask and velvet pile, among a dozen or more
well-dressed people of both sexes, one of whom, a lady comely and
pleasant looking, advanced quickly to meet him.
"Captain Chancellor, I am so delighted to see you. So glad you have
found your way to us already. Henry," turning to a stout
good-humoured-looking man beside her, "Henry, this is my old--my
long-ago young friend. Captain Chancellor, let me introduce my husband
to you, Mr Dalrymple."
The old young friend responded with becoming graciousness to this
cordial reception, though not feeling so thoroughly at his ease as was
usual to him. He was conscious of having been expected, looked for,
talked over probably by the company among whom he found himself, before
he had made his appearance. And though thoroughly accustomed to please
and be pleased, he was not a vain man, and this curious little sensation
of conspicuousness was not altogether agreeable. By way of making him
feel himself at home, his host proceeded to introduce him right and left
to so many of the assembled guests, that the result was a feeling of
increased bewilderment and utter confusion as to their identity. Still
to all appearance he proved himself quite equal to the occasion, shook
hands heartily with the men, looked amiably at the women and, being a
remarkably handsome and perfectly well-bred man, succeeded even during
the few minutes that elapsed before the dinner gong sounded in securing
to himself the favourable prepossessions of nearly every one in the
room.
He had reasons of his own for wishing to impress his entertainers
agreeably; his efforts speedily met with their reward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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