Aldyth's Inheritance by Eglanton Thorne

THE party given in honour of Hilda's coming of age was an evening party of the good old-fashioned sort. Mrs. Bland's guests began to arrive about seven, and they knew that they were expected to retire shortly after midnight. The dining room was given over to the young people, who had planned some tableaux vivants for the entertainment of the company. The older and graver guests gathered in the drawing room. Supper was to be served in the breakfast room, part of the hall being curtained off cleverly as an addition to its limited space.

The evening passed brightly away. The tableaux proved a grand success. Kitty persuaded John Glynne, who was present, to take part in them, and his perfect self-control and remarkable immobility of feature made him a valuable addition to the actors. The tableaux in which he appeared as Charles VII., whilst Kitty made a spirited-looking Joan of Arc, was the most successful of the series. Sundry amusements succeeded to the tableaux, and no one looking on the gay, animated scene could have imagined that care lurked in a single bosom there.

Hilda, the heroine of the occasion, looked charming, attired in white with a necklace of pearls, her mother's gift, adorning a throat scarcely less milky in hue. Her slight form, in its snowy drapery, had a fairylike prettiness, and her mother might be pardoned if her eyes sometimes rested upon this fair daughter with looks of pride.

Hilda wore, pinned to her gown, a bunch of Christmas roses and azaleas, and her delight in these flowers, which Guy had sent her with his congratulations, was unbounded till she saw that a lovely cluster of Maréchal Niel roses adorned Aldyth's black lace bodice, and knew that they also were a gift from Guy. The sight of them caused her a throb of pain, and with it came a dreadful presentiment that the evening to which she had looked forward with such eager anticipation was to yield her only pain and disappointment.

As the evening passed on, Aldyth became aware that Guy was paying but slight attention to Hilda, whilst, rather to her annoyance, she found him constantly beside herself. What did it mean? Had any misunderstanding arisen between him and Hilda? If so, it was a pity, for Aldyth, who had the sympathetic insight of a loving soul, could see that Hilda, though she did her best to maintain a gay demeanour, was not really enjoying herself. She felt certain that she should hear the truth, sooner or later, from Guy, who was to stay the night at Miss Lorraine's. Meanwhile she made an attempt to rid herself of his unwelcome attentions.

"Nonsense, Guy," she said, when he came to ask her hand for a dance. "I am sure you would rather have Hilda for your partner. Why do you keep aloof from her to-night, of all nights? Surely you two have not quarrelled?"

Guy coloured and looked confused.

"I have danced once with Hilda," he said. "Politeness does not require more."

Aldyth was amazed. Then they must have had a quarrel. But she said no more, knowing that words are worse than useless in such cases.

There could be no doubt that Kitty was having a good time, and Miss Lorraine, whose capacity for enjoying such gatherings did not wane with advancing years, entered into the fun with scarcely less zest. She was an excellent performer of cheerful music, and she sat at the piano playing one lively air after another, pausing only to instruct the young folk as to the manner in which the old country dances should be executed.

Aldyth was conscious of some wonder that she herself did not find the evening more enjoyable. She was not over fond of dancing, and she soon wearied of the heat and bustle. Aldyth had rather a poor opinion of the young men of Woodburn, and this evening's experience did not raise it. She felt impatient of the vapid talk of some who engaged her in conversation, whilst John Glynne remained at a distance. She would have liked to talk with him, but he apparently had nothing to say to her.

Later in the evening, Aldyth, thoroughly wearied, slipped into the drawing room. Mrs. Bland welcomed her with a smile. Old Captain Clear, a retired naval officer, and one of the oldest inhabitants of Woodham, came across the room to ask her if it were possible that she was already weary.

She saw John Glynne at the further end of the room, playing at chess with Mr. Greenwood. As she watched them, he made a move which checkmated his adversary. Then he rose to make way for another player. His eyes fell on Aldyth, and he came down the room, as it seemed to her, with the intention of addressing her. But ere he reached her side, he suddenly halted, and began to study a Swiss view hanging on the wall, and at the same moment Aldyth, not without some secret irritation, heard Guy's voice beside her.

"So here you are at last, Aldyth. I have been hunting for you everywhere. What made you come in here?"

"I was tired, Guy. I do not wish to be there any longer: All right; then we'll stay here," he said, and seated himself by her side with an air of proprietorship which was not lost upon one person present.

Guy thought he was acting his part well that evening. It cost him something to keep away from Hilda, and he took credit to himself for thus sacrificing his inclinations. He had received some powerful hints from his uncle with respect to this party.

Old Stephen Lorraine had suggested that it was Guy's duty to provide some choice flowers for Aldyth to wear. He was not responsible for the fact that his suggestion had also conveyed to Guy's mind the idea of a birthday bouquet for Hilda, for of that he knew nothing.

Guy had been given to understand that his courtship was proceeding too slowly, and that his uncle would expect to hear something decisive by the beginning of the New Year. So he was trying to bring himself to make the necessary sacrifice of his happiness; and, strange to say, it never occurred to him that he had no right to sacrifice also the happiness of another, and that the action he contemplated might possibly have that result.