At ten o'clock that same evening Clay began to prepare himself for the ball at the Government palace, and MacWilliams, who was not invited, watched him dress with critical approval that showed no sign of envy.
The better to do honor to the President, Clay had brought out several foreign orders, and MacWilliams helped him to tie around his neck the collar of the Red Eagle which the German Emperor had given him, and to fasten the ribbon and cross of the Star of Olancho across his breast, and a Spanish Order and the Legion of Honor to the lapel of his coat.MacWilliams surveyed the effect of the tiny enamelled crosses with his head on one side, and with the same air of affectionate pride and concern that a mother shows over her daughter's first ball-dress.
``Got any more?'' he asked, anxiously.
``I have some war medals,'' Clay answered, smiling doubtfully.
``But I'm not in uniform.''
``Oh, that's all right,'' declared MacWilliams.``Put 'em on, put 'em all on.Give the girls a treat.Everybody will think they were given for feats of swimming, anyway; but they will show up well from the front.Now, then, you look like a drum-major or a conjuring chap.''
``I do not,'' said Clay.``I look like a French Ambassador, and I hardly understand how you find courage to speak to me at all.''
He went up the hill in high spirits, and found the carriage at the door and King, Mr.Langham, and Miss Langham sitting waiting for him.They were ready to depart, and Miss Langham had but just seated herself in the carriage when they heard hurrying across the tiled floor a quick, light step and the rustle of silk, and turning they saw Hope standing in the doorway, radiant and smiling.She wore a white frock that reached to the ground, and that left her arms and shoulders bare.Her hair was dressed high upon her head, and she was pulling vigorously at a pair of long, tan-colored gloves.The transformation was so complete, and the girl looked so much older and so stately and beautiful, that the two young men stared at her in silent admiration and astonishment.
``Why, Hope!'' exclaimed her sister.``What does this mean?''
Hope stopped in some alarm, and clasped her hair with both hands.
``What is it?'' she asked; ``is anything wrong?''
``Why, my dear child,'' said her sister, ``you're not thinking of going with us, are you?''
``Not going?'' echoed the younger sister, in dismay.``Why, Alice, why not? I was asked.''
``But, Hope-- Father,'' said the elder sister, stepping out of the carriage and turning to Mr.Langham, ``you didn't intend that Hope should go, did you? She's not out yet.''
``Oh, nonsense,'' said Hope, defiantly.But she drew in her breath quickly and blushed, as she saw the two young men moving away out of hearing of this family crisis.She felt that she was being made to look like a spoiled child.``It doesn't count down here,'' she said, ``and I want to go.I thought you knew I was going all the time.Marie made this frock for me on purpose.''
``I don't think Hope is old enough,'' the elder sister said, addressing her father, ``and if she goes to dances here, there's no reason why she should not go to those at home.''
``But I don't want to go to dances at home,'' interrupted Hope.
Mr.Langham looked exceedingly uncomfortable, and turned apppealingly to his elder daughter.``What do you think, Alice?'' he said, doubtfully.
``I'm sorry,'' Miss Langham replied, ``but I know it would not be at all proper.I hate to seem horrid about it, Hope, but indeed you are too young, and the men here are not the men a young girl ought to meet.''
``You meet them, Alice,'' said Hope, but pulling off her gloves in token of defeat.
``But, my dear child, I'm fifty years older than you are.''
``Perhaps Alice knows best, Hope,'' Mr.Langham said.``I'm sorry if you are disappointed.''
Hope held her head a little higher, and turned toward the door.
``I don't mind if you don't wish it, father,'' she said.``Good-night.'' She moved away, but apparently thought better of it, and came back and stood smiling and nodding to them as they seated themselves in the carriage.Mr.Langham leaned forward and said, in a troubled voice, ``We will tell you all about it in the morning.I'm very sorry.You won't be lonely, will you?
I'll stay with you if you wish.''
``Nonsense!'' laughed Hope.``Why, it's given to you, father;don't bother about me.I'll read something or other and go to bed.''
``Good-night, Cinderella,'' King called out to her.
``Good-night, Prince Charming,'' Hope answered.
Both Clay and King felt that the girl would not mind missing the ball so much as she would the fact of having been treated like a child in their presence, so they refrained from any expression of sympathy or regret, but raised their hats and bowed a little more impressively than usual as the carriage drove away.
The picture Hope made, as she stood deserted and forlorn on the steps of the empty house in her new finery, struck Clay as unnecessarily pathetic.He felt a strong sense of resentment against her sister and her father, and thanked heaven devoutly that he was out of their class, and when Miss Langham continued to express her sorrow that she had been forced to act as she had done, he remained silent.It seemed to Clay such a simple thing to give children pleasure, and to remember that their woes were always out of all proportion to the cause.Children, dumb animals, and blind people were always grouped together in his mind as objects demanding the most tender and constant consideration.So the pleasure of the evening was spoiled for him while he remembered the hurt and disappointed look in Hope's face, and when Miss Langham asked him why he was so preoccupied, he told her bluntly that he thought she had been very unkind to Hope, and that her objections were absurd.
