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Page 64
From the frequent reference made by Mrs. Headley to her
own riper years, one might have been induced to consider
her rather in the decline of life; but such was not the
case. Her splendid and matronly figure might indeed have
impressed the superficial observer with the belief that
she had numbered more than forty summers, but the unchained
and luxuriant hair--the white, even and perfect teeth--
the rich, full lip, and unwrinkled brow, and smooth and
brilliant cheek, would not have permitted the woman most
jealous of her charms, could such have been found, to
pronounce her more than six-and-thirty, which was, indeed,
her age. It was a source of gratification to her to
consider and represent herself as older than she really
was; and if she had any peculiarity--a weakness it could
not be called--it was that of loving to look upon those
younger persons who claimed a place in her friendship
and esteem, as though she actually stood in the maternal
relation to them. This may have, in some degree, arisen
from the fact of her having ever been childless herself.
As Ronayne approached Elmsley's house on his return, a
remarkably handsome and noble-looking Indian--quite a
youth--was leaning against the frame of the door, and
according to the simple habit of his race, indulging his
curiosity by looking at, and admiring all that he beheld
within. Elmsley himself had gone out, but Von Vottenberg,
still seated at the breakfast-table, was discussing, with
its remains, the now nearly finished claret, while Mrs.
Elmsley and Maria Heywood were seated on the sofa opposite
to the door, passing their whispered remarks on the
Indian, whose softened dark glances occasionally fell
with intense admiration on the former, when he fancied
the act unseen, but as instantly were withdrawn, when he
perceived that it was observed.
Mrs. Elmsley was endeavoring to dissipate the dejection
of her friend by rallying her, as the young officer came
to the door, on the evidently new conquest she had made.
The Indian turned to look at the intruder upon his pleasant
musings, when a "wah!" expressive of deep satisfaction
escaped him, and at the same moment, Ronayne grasped,
and cordially shook his hand.
"Ha! there is his formidable rival, and seemingly his
friend," whispered Mrs. Elmsley, in the ear of Maria--
"handsome fellows, both of them, so much so, that were
I single, like you, I should have some difficulty in
choosing between them."
As she uttered these words, a sharp and unaccountable
pang, sudden and fleeting as electricity, shot through
the frame of her friend. The blood suddenly receded from
her cheek, and then rapidly returning, suffused it with
a burning heat.
"What is the matter, my love? Are you ill, you looked so
pale just now?" tenderly inquired Mrs. Elmsley.
"I cannot account for what I experienced. It was a feeling
different from any I had ever known before--a strange,
wild, and inexplicable dread of I know not what. But it
has passed away. Take no notice of it, dear, before
Ronayne."
"Mrs. Elmsley," said the latter, almost using force to
induce the modest-looking young Indian to enter the
room, "will you allow me first to introduce my friend
Waunangee to you, and then to give him a glass of claret?
Forgive the liberty I take, but I confess a good deal of
obligation to him, and would fain do the civil in return."
"Indeed! what a set speech for a glass of wine. Give it
to him by all means, if it is only for his beautiful
eyes--that is to say, if the doctor has left any--or
stay, I will get another bottle."
"By no means," returned the young officer, "this
unconscionable man has just left about half a tumbler
foil, and I do not intend he shall have more. Waunangee,"
he pursued, after filling and presenting him with the
glass, "that is the lady of the house," pointing to Mrs.
Elmsley, "you must drink to her health."
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