Paulines Passion and Punishment | Page 7

in the world to
her. This companion, a man slender and tall, with a face delicately dark
as a fine bronze, looked back at her with eyes as eloquent as her own,
while both spoke rapidly and low in the melodious language which
seems made for lover's lips.
"Gilbert, who are they?"
There was no answer, and before she could repeat the question the

approaching pair paused before her, and the beautiful woman offered
her hand, saying, with inquiring smiles, "Barbara, have you forgotten
your early friend, Pauline?"
Recognition came with the familiar name, and Mrs. Redmond
welcomed the newcomer with a delight as unrestrained as if she were
still the schoolgirl, Babie. Then, recovering herself, she said, with a
pretty attempt at dignity, "Let me present my husband. Gilbert, come
and welcome my friend Pauline Valary."
Scarlet with shame, dumb with conflicting emotions, and utterly
deserted by self-possession, Redmond stood with downcast eyes and
agitated mien, suffering a year's remorse condensed into a moment. A
mute gesture was all the greeting he could offer. Pauline slightly bent
her haughty head as she answered, in a voice frostily sweet, "Your wife
mistakes. Pauline Valary died three weeks ago, and Pauline Laroche
rose from her ashes. Manuel, my schoolmate, Mrs. Redmond; Gilbert
you already know."
With the manly presence he could easily assume and which was
henceforth to be his role in public, Manuel bowed courteously to the
lady, coldly to the gentleman, and looked only at his wife. Mrs.
Redmond, though childish, was observant; she glanced from face to
face, divined a mystery, and spoke out at once.
"Then you have met before? Gilbert, you have never told me this."
"It was long ago--in Cuba. I believed they had forgotten me."
"I never forget." And Pauline's eye turned on him with a look he dared
not meet.
Unsilenced by her husband's frown, Mrs. Redmond, intent on pleasing
herself, drew her friend to the seat beside her as she said petulantly,
"Gilbert tells me nothing, and I am constantly discovering things which
might have given me pleasure had he only chosen to be frank. I've
spoken of you often, yet he never betrayed the least knowledge of you,
and I take it very ill of him, because I am sure he has not forgotten you.

Sit here, Pauline, and let me tease you with questions, as I used to do so
long ago. You were always patient with me, and though far more
beautiful, your face is still the same kind one that comforted the little
child at school. Gilbert, enjoy your friend, and leave us to ourselves
until the dance is over."
Pauline obeyed; but as she chatted, skillfully leading the young wife's
conversation to her own affairs, she listened to the two voices behind
her, watched the two figures reflected in the mirror before her, and felt
a secret pride in Manuel's address, for it was evident that the former
positions were renewed.
The timid boy who had feared the sarcastic tongue of his guardian's
guest, and shrunk from his presence to conceal the jealousy that was his
jest, now stood beside his formal rival, serene and self-possessed, by
far the manliest man of the two, for no shame daunted him, no fear
oppressed him, no dishonorable deed left him at the mercy of another's
tongue.
Gilbert Redmond felt this keenly, and cursed the falsehood which had
placed him in such an unenviable position. It was vain to assume the
old superiority that was forfeited; but too much a man of the world to
be long discomforted by any contretemps like this, he rapidly regained
his habitual ease of manner, and avoiding the perilous past clung to the
safer present, hoping, by some unguarded look or word, to fathom the
purpose of his adversary, for such he knew the husband of Pauline must
be at heart. But Manuel schooled his features, curbed his tongue, and
when his hot blood tempted him to point his smooth speech with a
taunt, or offer a silent insult with the eye, he remembered Pauline,
looked down on the graceful head below, and forgot all other passions
in that of love.
"Gilbert, my shawl. The sea air chills me."
"I forgot it, Babie."
"Allow me to supply the want."

Mindful of his wife's commands, Manuel seized this opportunity to win
a glance of commendation from her. And taking the downy mantle that
hung upon his arm, he wrapped the frail girl in it with a care that made
the act as cordial as courteous. Mrs. Redmond felt the charm of his
manner with the quickness of a woman, and sent a reproachful glance
at Gilbert as she said plaintively, "Ah! It is evident that my honeymoon
is over, and the assiduous lover replaced by the negligent husband.