Paulines Passion and Punishment | Page 6

triumph about his
idol, till she arrested him, beckoning as she spoke.
"Manuel, I am waiting to assume the last best ornament you have given
me, my handsome husband." Then, as he came to her laughing with
frank pleasure at her praise, she added, "You, too, must look your best
and bravest now, and remember you must enact the man tonight.
Before Gilbert wear your stateliest aspect, your tenderest to me, your
courtliest to his wife. You possess dramatic skill. Use it for my sake,
and come for your reward when this night's work is done."
The great hotel was swarming with life, ablaze with light, resonant with
the tread of feet, the hum of voices, the musical din of the band, and
full of the sights and sounds which fill such human hives at a
fashionable watering place in the height of the season. As Manuel led
his wife along the grand hall thronged with promenaders, his quick ear
caught the whispered comments of the passers-by, and the fragmentary
rumors concerning themselves amused him infinitely.
"_Mon ami!_ There are five bridal couples here tonight, and there is the
handsomest, richest, and most enchanting of them all. The groom is not
yet twenty, they tell me, and the bride still younger. Behold them!"
Manuel looked down at Pauline with a mirthful glance, but she had not
heard.
"See, Belle! Cubans; own half the island between them. Splendid, aren't
they? Look at the diamonds on her lovely arms, and his ravishing
moustache. Isn't he your ideal of Prince Djalma, in The Wandering

Jew?"
A pretty girl, forgetting propriety in interest, pointed as they passed.
Manuel half-bowed to the audible compliment, and the blushing damsel
vanished, but Pauline had not seen.
"Jack, there's the owner of the black span you fell into raptures over.
My lord and lady look as highbred as their stud. We'll patronize them!"
Manuel muttered a disdainful "_Impertinente!_" between his teeth as he
surveyed a brace of dandies with an air that augured ill for the
patronage of Young America, but Pauline was unconscious of both
criticism and reproof. A countercurrent held them stationary for a
moment, and close behind them sounded a voice saying, confidentially,
to some silent listener, "The Redmonds are here tonight, and I am
curious to see how he bears his disappointment. You know he married
for money, and was outwitted in the bargain; for his wife's fortune not
only proves to be much less than he was led to believe, but is so tied up
that he is entirely dependent upon her, and the bachelor debts he sold
himself to liquidate still harass him, with a wife's reproaches to
augment the affliction. To be ruled by a spoiled child's whims is a fit
punishment for a man whom neither pride nor principle could curb
before. Let us go and look at the unfortunate."
Pauline heard now. Manuel felt her start, saw her flush and pale, then
her eye lit, and the dark expression he dreaded to see settled on her face
as she whispered, like a satanic echo, "Let us also go and look at this
unfortunate."
A jealous pang smote the young man's heart as he recalled the past.
"You pity him, Pauline, and pity is akin to love."
"I only pity what I respect. Rest content, my husband."
Steadily her eyes met his, and the hand whose only ornament was a
wedding ring went to meet the one folded on his arm with a confiding
gesture that made the action a caress.

"I will try to be, yet mine is a hard part," Manuel answered with a sigh,
then silently they both paced on.
Gilbert Redmond lounged behind his wife's chair, looking intensely
bored.
"Have you had enough of this folly, Babie?"
"No, we have but just come. Let us dance."
"Too late; they have begun."
"Then go about with me. It's very tiresome sitting here."
"It is too warm to walk in all that crowd, child."
"You are so indolent! Tell me who people are as they pass. I know no
one here."
"Nor I."
But his act belied the words, for as they passed his lips he rose erect,
with a smothered exclamation and startled face, as if a ghost had
suddenly confronted him. The throng had thinned, and as his wife
followed the direction of his glance, she saw no uncanny apparition to
cause such evident dismay, but a woman fair-haired, violet-eyed,
blooming and serene, sweeping down the long hall with noiseless grace.
An air of sumptuous life pervaded her, the shimmer of bridal snow
surrounded her, bridal gifts shone on neck and arms, and bridal
happiness seemed to touch her with its tender charm as she looked up
at her companion, as if there were but one human being