The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life

by Anna Katharine Green

  XVII.

  GRAVE AND GAY.

  "No scandal about Queen Elizabeth I hope."

  --SHERIDAN.

  "Stands Scotland where it did?"

  --MACBETH.

  "Who is that talking with Miss Stuyvesant?" asked Mr. Sylvester,approaching his wife during one of the lulls that will fall at timesupon vast assemblies.

  Mrs. Sylvester followed the direction of his glance and immediatelyresponded, "O that is Mr. Ensign, one of the best _partis_ of theseason. He evidently knows where to pay his court."

  "I inquired because he has just requested me to honor him with a formalintroduction to Paula."

  "Indeed! then oblige him by all means; it would be a great match forher. To say nothing of his wealth, he is _haut ton_, and his redwhiskers will not look badly beside Paula's dark hair."

  Mr. Sylvester frowned, then sighed, but in a few minutes Paula observedhim approaching with Mr. Ensign. At once her hitherto pale cheekflushed, but the young gentleman did not seem to object to that, andafter the formal introduction which he had sought was over, he exclaimedin his own bright ringing tones,

  "The fates have surely forgotten their usual role of unpropitiousness. Idid not dare hope to meet you here to-night, Miss Fairchild. Was theride all that your fancy painted?"

  "O," said she, speaking very low and glancing around, "do not allude toit here. We had an adventure shortly after you parted from us."

  "An adventure! and no cavalier at your side! If I could but have known!Was it so serious?" he inquired in a moment, seeing her look grave.

  "Ask Miss Stuyvesant;" said she. "I cannot talk about it any moreto-night. Besides the music carries off one's thoughts. It is like ajoyous breeze that whirls away the thistle-down whether it will or no."

  He gave her a short quick look grave enough in its way, but respondedwith his usual graceful humor, "The thistle-down is too vicious a spriteto be beguiled away so easily. If I were to give my opinion on thesubject, I should say there was method in its madness. If you have beenbrought up in the country, as I suspect from your remark, you must knowthat the white floating ball is not as harmless as it would lead you toimagine. It is a meddlesome nobody, that's what it is, and like somecountry gossips I know, launches forth from a pure love of mischief toestablish his prickers in his neighbor's field."

  "_His!_ I thought it must be feminine at least to fulfill the conditionsyou mention. A male gossip, O fie! I shall never have patience with athistle-ball after this."

  "Well," laughed he, "I did start with the intention of making itfeminine, but I caught a glimpse of your eyes and lost my courage. I didwhat I could," added he with a mirthful glance.

  "So do the thistles," cried she. Then while both voices joined in amerry laugh, she continued, "But where have we strayed? For a moment itseemed as if we were on the hills at Grotewell; I could almost see theblue sky."

  "And I," said he, with his eyes on her face.

  "I am sure the brooks bubbled."

  "I distinctly heard a bird singing."

  "It was a whippowill."

  "But my name is Clarence?"

  And here both being young and without a care in the world, they laughedagain. And the crowded perfumed room seemed to freshen as with a whiffof mountain air.

  "You love the country, Miss Fairchild?"

  "Yes;" and her smile was the reflection of the summer-lands that arosebefore her at the word. "With the right side of my heart do I love thespot where nature speaks and man is dumb."

  "And with the left?"

  "I love the place where great men congregate to face their destiny andcontrol it."

  "The latter is the deeper love," said he.

  She nodded her head and then said, "I need both to make me happy.Sometimes as I walk these city streets, I feel as if my very longing toescape to the heart of the hills, would carry me there. I remember whenI was a child, I was one day running through a meadow, when suddenly awhole flock of birds flew up from the grass and surrounded my head. Iwas not sure but what I should be caught up and carried away by theforce of their flight; and when they rose to mid heaven, something in mybreast seemed to follow them. So it is often with me here, only that itis the rush of my thoughts that threatens such a Hegira. Yet if I wereto be transported to my native hills, I know I should long to be backagain."

  "The mountain lassie has wandered into the courts of the king. Theperfume of palaces is not easily forgotten."

  Her eye turned towards Mr. Sylvester standing near them upright andfirm, talking to a group of attentive gentlemen every one of whomboasted a name of more than local celebrity. "Without a royal heart togovern, there would be no palace;" said she, and blushed under a suddensense of the possible interpretation he might give to her words, tillthe rose in her hand looked pallid.

  But he had followed her glance and understood her better than shethought. "And Mr. Sylvester has such a heart, so a hundred good fellowshave told me. You are fortunate to see the city from the loop-hole ofsuch a home as his."

  "It is more than a loop-hole," said she.

  "Of that I shall never be satisfied till I see it?"

  And being content with the look he received, he took her on his arm andled her into the midst of the dancers.

  Meanwhile in a certain corner not far off, two gentlemen were talking.

  "Sylvester shows off well to-night."

  "He always does. With such a figure as that, a man needs but to enter aroom to make himself felt. But then he's a good talker too. Ever heardhim speak?"

  "No."

  "Fine voice, true snap, right ring. Great favorite at elections. Thefact is, Sylvester is a remarkable man."

  "Hum, ha, so I should judge."

  "And so fortunate! He has never been known to run foul in a greatoperation. Put your money in his hand and whew!--your fortune is as goodas made."

  The other, a rich man, connected heavily with the mining business inColorado, smiled with that bland overflow of the whole countenance whichis sometimes seen in large men of great self-importance.

  "It's a pity he's gone out of Wall Street," continued his companion."The younger fry feel now something like a flock of sheep that has lostits bell-wether."

  "They straggle--eh?" returned his portly friend with an increase of hissmile that was not altogether pleasant. "So Sylvester has left WallStreet?"

  "He closed his last enterprise two weeks before accepting the Presidencyof the Madison Bank. Stuyvesant is down on speculation, and well--Itlooks better you know; the Madison Bank is an old institution, andSylvester is ambitious. There'll be no reckless handling of funds_there_."

  "No!" What was there in that _no_ that made the other look up? "I'm notacquainted with Sylvester myself. Has he much family?"

  "A wife--there she is, that handsome woman talking with Ditman,--and adaughter, niece or somebody who just now is setting all our youngscapegraces by the ears. You can see her if you just crane your neck alittle."

  "Humph, ha, very pretty, very pretty. How much do you suppose Mrs.Sylvester is worth as she stands, diamonds you know, and all that?"

  "Well I should say some where near ten thousand; that sprig in her haircost a clean five."

  "So, so. They live in a handsome house I suppose?"

  "A regular palace, corner of Fifth Avenue and ----"

  "All his?"

  "Nobody's else I reckon."

  "Sports horses and carriage I suppose?"

  "Of course."

  "Yacht, opera box?"

  "No reason why he shouldn't."

  "What is his salary?"

  "A nominal sum, five or ten thousand perhaps."

  "Owns good share of the bank's stock I presume?"

  "Enough to control it."

  "Below par though?"

  "A trifle, going up, however."

  "And _don't_ speculate?"

  The way this man drawled his words was excessively disagreeable.

  "Not that any one knows of. He's made his fortune a
nd now asks only toenjoy it."

  The man from the West strutted back and looked at his companionknowingly. "What do you think of my judgment, Stadler?"

  "None better this side of the Pacific."

  "Pretty good at spying out cracks, eh?"

  "I wouldn't like to undertake the puttying up that would deceive you."

  "Humph! Well then, mark this. In two months from to-day you will see Mr.Sylvester rent his house and go south for his health, or the pretty oneover there will marry one of the scapegraces you mention, who will lendthe man _who don't engage in any further ventures_, more than one or twohundred thousand dollars."

  "Ha, you know something."

  "I own mines in Colorado and I have my points."

  "And Mr. Sylvester?"

  "Will find them too sharp for him."

  And having made his joke, he yielded to the other's apparentrestlessness, and they sauntered off.

  They did not observe a pale, demure, little lady that sat near themabstractedly nodding her dainty head to the remarks of a pale-whiskeredyouth at her side, nor notice the emotion with which she suddenly roseat their departure and dismissed her chattering companion on someimpromptu errand. It was only one of the ordinary group of dancers, apretty, plainly dressed girl, but her name was Stuyvesant.

  Rising with a decision that gave a very attractive color to her cheeks,she hastily looked around. A trio of young gentlemen started towards herbut she gave them no encouragement; her eye had detected Mr. Sylvester'stall figure a few feet off and it was to him she desired to speak. Butat her first movement in his direction, her glance encountered anotherface, and like a stream that melts into a rushing torrent, her purposeseemed to vanish, leaving her quivering with a new emotion of so vivid acharacter she involuntarily looked about her for a refuge.

  But in another instant her eyes had again sought the countenance thathad so moved her, and finding it bent upon her own, faltered a littleand unconsciously allowed the lilies she was carrying to drop from herhand. Before she realized her loss, the face before her had vanished,and with it something of her hesitation and alarm.

  With a hasty action she drew near Mr. Sylvester. "Will you lend me yourarm for a minute?" she asked, with her usual appealing look rendereddoubly forcible by the experience of a moment before.

  "Miss Stuyvesant! I am happy to see you."

  Never had his face looked more cheerful she thought, never had his smilestruck her more pleasantly.

  "A little talk with a little girl will not hinder you too much, willit?" she queried, glancing at the group of gentlemen that had shrunkback at her approach.

  "Do you call that hindrance which relieves one from listening toquotations of bank stock at an evening reception?"

  She shook her head with a confused movement, and led him up before astand of flowering exotics.

  "I want to tell you something," she said eagerly but with a markedtimidity also, the tall form beside her looked so imposing for all itsencouraging bend. "I beg your pardon if I am doing wrong, but paparegards you with such esteem and--Mr. Sylvester do you know a man by thename of Stadler?"

  Astonished at such a question from lips so young and dainty, he turnedand surveyed her for a moment with quick surprise. Something in heraspect struck him. He answered at once and without circumlocution. "Yes,if you refer to that spry keen-faced man, just entering thesupper-room."

  "Do you know his companion?" she proceeded; "the portly, highlypompous-looking gentleman with the gold eye-glasses? Look quickly."

  "No." There was an uneasiness in his tone however that struck herpainfully.

  "He is a stranger in town; has not the honor of your acquaintance hesays, but from the questions he asked, I judge he has a great interestin your affairs. He spoke of being connected with mines in Colorado. Iwas sitting behind a curtain and overheard what was said."

  Mr. Sylvester turned pale and regarded her attentively. "Might I be sobold," he inquired after a moment, "as to ask you what that was?"

  "Yes, sir, certainly, but it is even harder for me to repeat than it wasfor me to hear. He inquired about your domestic concerns, your home andyour income," she murmured blushing; "and then said, in what I thoughtwas a somewhat exulting tone, that in two months or so we should see yougo South for your health or--Is not that enough for me to tell you, Mr.Sylvester?"

  He gave her a short stare, opened his lips as if to speak, then turnedabruptly aside and began picking mechanically at the blossoms beforehim.

  "I, of course, do not know what men mean when they talk of possessingpoints. But the leer and side glance which accompanies such talk, have auniversal language we all understand, and I felt that I must warn you ofthat man's malice if only because papa regards you so highly."

  He shrank as if touched on a sore place, but bowed and answered thewistful appeal of her glance with a shadow of his usual smile, then heturned, and looking towards the door through which the two men haddisappeared, made a movement as if he would follow. But rememberinghimself, escorted her to a seat, saying as he did so:

  "You are very kind, Miss Stuyvesant; please say nothing of this toPaula."

  She bowed and a flitting smile crossed her upturned countenance. "I amnot much of a gossip, Mr. Sylvester, or I should have been tempted tohave carried my information to my father instead of to you."

  He understood the implied promise in this remark and gave the hand onhis arm a quick pressure, before relinquishing her to the care of thepale-complexioned youth who by this time had returned to her side.

  In another moment Paula came up on the arm of a black-whiskeredgentleman all shirt front and eye-glasses. "O Cicely," she cried, (shecalled Miss Stuyvesant, Cicely now) "is it not a delightful evening?"

  "Are you enjoying yourself so much?" inquired that somewhat agitatedlittle lady, with a glance at the countenance of her friend's attendant.

  "I fear it would scarcely seem consistent in me now to say no," returnedthe radiant girl, with a laughing glance towards the same gentleman.

  But when they were alone, the gentleman having departed on some of theinnumerable errands with which ladies seem to delight in afflictingtheir attendant cavaliers at balls or receptions, she atoned for thatglance by remarking,

  "I do not find the average partner that falls to one's lot in suchreceptions all that fancy paints." And then finding she had repeated aphrase of Mr. Ensign's, blushed, though no one stood near her butCicely.

  "Fancy's brush would need to be dipped in but two colors to present toour eye the mass of them," was Cicely's laughing reply. "A streak ofblack for the coat, and a daub of white for the shirt front. _Voilatout._"

  "With perhaps a dash of red in some cases," murmured a voice over theirshoulders.

  They turned with hurried blushes. "Ah, Mr. Ensign," quoth Cicely inunabashed gaiety, "we reserve red for the exceptions. We did not intendto include our acknowledged friends in our somewhat sweeping assertion."

  "Ah, I see, the black streak and the white daub are a symbol of,'Er--Miss Stuyvesant--very warm this evening! Have an ice, do. _I_always have an ice after dancing; so refreshing, you know.'"

  The manner in which he imitated the usual languid drawl of certain ofthe young scapegraces heretofore mentioned, was irresistible. Paulaforgot her confusion in her mirth.

  "You are blessed with a capacity for playing both roles, I perceive,"cried Cicely with unusual abandon. "Well, it is convenient, there isnothing like scope."

  "Unless it is hope," whispered Mr. Ensign so low that only Paula couldhear.

  "But I warn you," continued Cicely, with a sweet soft laugh that seemedto carry her heart far out into the passing throng, "that we have nofondness for the model beau of the period. A dish of milk makes a verygood supper but it looks decidedly pale on the dinner table."

  "Yes," said Paula, eying the various young men that filed up and downbefore them, some pale, some dark, some handsome, some plain, but allsmiling and dapper, if not debonair, "some men could be endured if onlythey were not _men
_."

  Mr. Ensign gave her a quick look, and while he laughed at the paradox,straightened himself like one who could be a man if the occasion called.She saw the action and blushed.

  But their conversation was soon interrupted. Mr. Sylvester was seenreturning from the supper-room, looking decidedly anxious, and whilePaula was ignorant of what had transpired to annoy him, her ready spiritcaught the alarm, and she was about to rush up to him and address him,when one of the waiters approached, and murmuring a few words she didnot hear, handed him a card upon which she descried nothing but a simplecircle. Instantly a change crossed his already agitated countenance, andadvancing to the ladies with a word or two that while seeminglycheerful, struck Paula as somewhat forced, excused himself with theinformation that a business friend had been so inconsiderate as toimportune him for an interview in the hall. And with just a nod towardsMr. Ensign, who had drawn back at his advance, left them and disappearedin the crowd about the door.

  "I do not like these interruptions from business friends in a time ofpleasure," cried Paula, looking after him with anxious eyes. "Did younotice how agitated he seemed, Cicely? And half an hour ago he was thepicture of calm enjoyment."

  "Business is beyond our comprehension, Paula," returned her friendevasively. "It is something like a neuralgic twinge, it takes a man whenhe least expects it. Have you told Mr. Ensign of our adventure?"

  "No, but I informed Mr. Sylvester, and he said such good, true words tome, Cicely. I can never forget them."

  "And I told papa; but he only frowned and made some observation aboutthe degeneracy of the times, and the number of scamps thrown to the topby the modern methods of acquiring instantaneous fortunes."

  "Your papa is sometimes hard, is he not, Cicely?"

  With a flush Miss Stuyvesant allowed her eye to rest for a moment on thecrowd shifting before her. "He was dug from a quarry of granite, Paula.He is both hard and substantial; capable of being hewn but not of beingmoulded. Of such stuff are formed monuments of enduring beauty andsolidity. You must do papa justice."

  "I do, but I sometimes have a feeling as if the granite column wouldfall and crush me, Cicely."

  "You, Paula?"

  Before she could again reply, Mr. Sylvester returned. His face was stillpale, but it had acquired an expression of rigidity even more alarmingto Paula than its previous aspect of forced merriment. Lifting her bythe hand, he drew her apart.

  "I shall have to leave you somewhat abruptly," said he. "An importantmatter demands my instant attention. Bertram is somewhere here, and willsee that you and Ona arrive home in safety. You won't allow yourenjoyment to be clouded by my hasty departure, will you?"

  "Not if it will make you anxious. But I would rather go home with younow. I am sure Cousin Ona would be willing."

  "But I am not going home at present," said he; and she ventured upon nofurther remonstrance.

  But her enjoyment was clouded; the sight of suffering or anxiety on thatface was more than she could bear; and ere long she said good-night toCicely, and accepting the arm of Mr. Ensign, who was never very far fromher side, proceeded to search for her cousin.

  She found her standing in the midst of an admiring throng to whom herdiamonds, if not her smiles, were an object of undoubted interest. Shewas in the full tide of one of her longest and most widely ramblingspeeches, and to Paula, with that stir of anxiety at her breast, was animage of self-satisfied complacency from which she was fain to drop hereyes.

  "Mrs. Sylvester shares the honors with her husband," remarked Mr. Ensignas they drew near.

  "But not the trials, or the pain, or the care?" was Paula's inwardcomment.

  Mrs. Sylvester was not easily wooed away from a circle in which shefound herself creating such an impression, but at length she yielded toPaula's importunities, and consented to accept young Mr. Sylvester'sattendance to their home. The next thing was to find Bertram. Mr. Ensignengaged to do this. Leaving Paula with her cousin, who may or may nothave been pleased at this sudden addition to her circle, he sought forthe young man who as Mr. Mandeville was not unknown to any of thefashionable men and women of the day. It was no easy task, nor did hefind him readily, but at last he came upon him leaning out of a windowand gazing at a white lily which he held in his hand. Without preamble,Mr. Ensign made known his errand, and Bertram at once prepared toaccompany him back to the ladies.

  "By Jove! I didn't know the fellow was so handsome!" thought the former,and frowned he hardly knew why. Bertram was not handsome, but thenClarence Ensign was plain, which Bertram certainly was not.

  It was to Mr. Ensign's face however that Paula's eyes turned as the twocame up, and he with the ready vivacity of his natural temperamentobserved it, and took courage.

  "I shall soon wish to measure that loop-hole of which I have spoken,"said he.

  And the soft look in her large dark eye as she responded, "It is alwaysopen to friends," filled up the measure of his cup of happiness; a cupwhich unlike hers, had not been darkened that day by the falling ofearth's most dismal shadows.