Miss Winthrop hastened through her toilet in order that she might come down and speak to Dennis while he was alone. She wished to thank him for his course and his vindication of the truth, and to assure him that she both respected him and would treat him as a true gentleman. She went into the back parlor, but he was not there; then she passed to the dining-room, but found only servants clearing away and preparing for the grand supper of the evening.
In quick alarm she asked, “Where is Mr. Fleet?”
“Is it the man in the back parlor, mum? He’s just after goin’ out.”
“Oh, girls!” exclaimed Miss Winthrop, rushing upstairs, “Mr. Fleet has gone.”
And there was general consternation.
XXIII
The Revelation
The toilets of the young ladies were nearly completed, but, without waiting to add another touch, all hastened to the place where they had left Dennis. One of the colorless young ladies appeared upon the scene with a shawl around her bare shoulders, and a great deal of color on one cheek, and none on the other as yet; but this slight discrepancy was unnoted in the dire calamity they feared.
Many were the exclamations and lamentations.
“Why, the people will be here in fifteen minutes,” said Miss Winthrop, in a nervous tremor.
“Did he leave no word?” asked Miss Brown of the servants.
“No word, mum,” was the dismal echo.
“What shall we do?” they said, looking at one another with blank faces; but none could answer.
“I do hate such proud, freakish people. There is no managing or depending on them,” said Miss Brown, spitefully.
Miss Winthrop bit her lips to keep from saying to her hostess what would be more true than polite. There was a flash of anger in Christine’s dark blue eyes, and she said, coldly: “I imagine that you have finished the business this time, Miss Brown. But I confess that I am greatly surprised, for he said I could depend upon him for tonight.”
“So you can,” said Dennis, coming in behind them. “I am sorry you have had this needless alarm. But the fact is, I am a plain, ordinary mortal, and live in a very material way.”
“There was plenty of lunch in the dining-room,” said Miss Brown, tartly. “You need not have gone out and made all this trouble.”
“Pardon me for slighting your hospitality,” said Dennis, with slight emphasis on the word.
Again significant glances were exchanged. Miss Brown darted a black look at Dennis, and left the room.
“I can assure you, ladies,” added he, “that all is ready. I can lay my hand in a moment on whatever is needed. Therefore you need give yourselves no further anxiety.”
There was a general stampede for the dressing-rooms, but Miss Winthrop lingered. When Dennis was alone she went up to him and frankly gave her hand, saying: “Mr. Fleet, I wish to thank you for your course today. Between Miss Ludolph’s unwitting sermon and your brave and unexpected vindication of our faith, I hope to become more deserving of the name of Christian. You are a gentleman, sir, in the truest and best sense of the word, and as such it will ever be a pleasure to welcome you at my father’s house;” and she gave him her card.
A flush of grateful surprise and pleasure mantled Dennis’s face, but before he could speak she was gone.
The audience were soon thronging in. By half-past eight the performers were all in the back parlor, and there was a brilliant army of actors and actresses in varied and fanciful costume, many coming to the house dressed for their parts. There were gods and goddesses, shepherds and shepherdesses, angels, crusaders, who would take leave of languishing ladies, living statuary, and tableaux of all sorts. Dennis was much shocked at the manner in which ladies exposed themselves in the name of art and for the sake of effect. Christine seemed perfectly Greek and pagan in this respect, yet there was that in her manner that forbade a wanton glance. But, as he observed the carriage of the men around him, he was more than satisfied that no plea of art could justify the “style,” and felt assured that every pure-minded woman would take the same view if she realized the truth. Under the name of fashion and art much is done in society that would be simply monstrous on ordinary occasions.
The music, as far as possible, was in character with the scenes. The entertainment went forward with great applause. Everyone was radiant; and the subtle, exhilarating spirit of assured success glowed in every eye, and gave a richer tone and coloring to everything.
Christine appeared in several and varied characters, and Dennis had eyes only for her. The others he glanced over critically as the artist in charge, and then dismissed them from his thoughts; but on Christine his eyes rested in a spellbound admiration that both amused and pleased her. She loved power of every kind, and when she read approval in the trained and critical eye of Dennis Fleet she knew that all the audience were applauding.
But Dennis had little time for musing, so great was the strain upon him to prevent confusion. His voice excited great surprise and applause, many inquiring vainly who he was. When he and Christine sung together the audience were perfectly carried away, and stormed and applauded without stint. Indeed, it seemed that they could not be satisfied. The call was so urgent that several asked Christine to sing again, and she did so alone. For ten minutes she held the audience perfectly entranced, and no one more so than Dennis. Usually she was too cold in all that she did, but now in her excitement she far surpassed herself, and he acknowledged that he had never heard such music
