Gothic fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Tigre desisted a moment from his whining, and wavered in his
determination. I thrust my arm under the wardrobe, seized him, and drew
him, yelping, out; then, springing up, ran across the hall, and almost
threw him into my room. Mr. Rutledge watched me silently with a
contracted brow, and crossing over to his own room, shut himself into
it.
Not a very faithful index, certainly of the real feelings of men and
women, is to be obtained from their outward and visible emotions. A very
gay party, no doubt, the visitors who came that night to Rutledge,
thought they found there. They little guessed how unhappy and
disappointed a man their courteous host was, nor that Mrs. Churchill,
serene and charming, was looking in the face the failure of the hopes of
years, nor that the pretty Josephine's smiles were in ghastly contrast
with the bitterness of her spirit; nor that Phil, who knew her face too
well to be deceived by them, was smarting under the realizing sense it
gave him of her ambition and worldliness. And if they had guessed the
interpretation of _my_ gaiety!
There were just enough of us to make the dancing spirited, and to keep
every one on the floor. We had before always danced in the parlors, but
some evil spirit prompted Grace to propose that we should try a double
set of Lancers in the hall. Everybody, encouraged, doubtless, by their
attendant evil spirits, seemed to think nothing could be more delightful
than the hall, and urged the moving of the piano out there; and there we
adjourned. I tried not to remember how plainly we could be heard in a
certain room at the end of the hall above; how the laughing and the
music would grate on the jealous ears there. If he caught the tones of
my voice, he would not know that I laughed because I must keep pace with
the captain's jokes, and encourage him in punning and joke-making, to
keep him from the hideous topic that he always turned to when left to
himself; and to drive away the suspicion that sharpened Mr. Rutledge's
eyes, and to keep Mr. Mason my admirer, and no more.
"Like the lady of 'Old Oak Chest' memory, 'I'm weary of dancing,'" I
cried at length, "let's amuse ourselves some other way."
"Play hide-and-seek, like that ancient party?" asked Phil, throwing
himself on the lowest step of the stairs.
"That's not a bad suggestion!" exclaimed Grace. "This is just the place
for such an adventure. I don't mean that I want anybody to be smothered
in a chest exactly, but lost for a little while, and hunted for, you
know. It would be so jolly."
"So it would!" echoed Ellerton.
"And there's no end of capital hiding-places about the house, so many
odd rooms where you'd never expect them; and acres of attic, beyond a
doubt!"
"Come!" cried Josephine, "we're all ripe for adventure. Let's have a
game of hide-and-seek."
"Delightful!" cried the youngest Miss Mason.
"I'm ready for anything," said Phil, getting up and shaking himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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