The Puritans | Page 6

came only to bring my cousin. May I present Mr.
Ashe; Mrs. Fenton."
"I was so glad that you said what you did this afternoon, Mr. Ashe,"
Mrs. Fenton said, extending her hand. "I felt just as you did, and I was
rejoiced that somebody had the courage to protest against that dreadful
paganism."
Philip was too shy and too enraptured to be able to reply intelligibly,
but as they were borne forward by the tide of departing guests he was
spared the need of answer. At the foot of the stairway he was stopped
again by Maurice Wynne, and presented to Mrs. Staggchase, his
friend's cousin and hostess for the time being; but his whole mind was
taken up by the image of Mrs. Fenton, and in his ears like a refrain rang
the words of the Persian hymn: "O thou, to the arch of whose eyebrow
the new moon is a slave!"

II
THERE BEGINS CONFUSION Henry VI., iv. 1.
That afternoon at Mrs. Gore's had been no less significant to Maurice
Wynne than to Philip Ashe. His was a less spiritual, less highly
wrought nature, but in the effect which the change from the atmosphere
of the Clergy House to the Persian's lecture had upon him, the
experience of Maurice was much the same. He too was attracted by a
woman. He gave his thoughts up to the woman much more frankly than
would have been possible for his friend. She was young, perhaps
twenty, and exquisite with clear skin and soft, warm coloring. Her
wide-open eyes were as dark and velvety as the broad petals of a pansy

with the dew still on them; her cheeks were tinged with a hue like that
which spreads in a glass of pure water into which has fallen a drop of
red wine; her forehead was low and white, and from it her hair sprang
up in two little arches before it fell waving away over her temples; her
lips were pouting and provokingly suggestive of kisses. The whole face
was of the type which comes so near to the ideal that the least
sentimentality of expression would have spoiled it. Happily the big
eyes and the ripe, red mouth were both suggestive of demure humor.
There was a mirthful air about the dimple which came and went in the
left cheek like Cupid peeping mischievously from the folds of his
mother's robe. A boa of long-haired black fur lay carelessly about her
neck, pushed back so that a touch of red and gold brocade showed
where she had loosened her coat. Maurice noted that she seemed to care
as little for the lecture as he did, and he gave himself up to the delight
of watching her.
When the company broke up Mrs. Staggchase spoke almost
immediately to the beautiful creature who so charmed him.
"How do you do, Miss Morison," Mrs. Staggchase said; "I must say
that I am surprised that cousin Anna brought you to a place where the
doctrine is so far removed from mind-cure. My dear Anna," she
continued, turning to a lady whom Wynne knew by name as Mrs.
Frostwinch and as an attendant at the Church of the Nativity, "you are a
living miracle. You know you are dead, and you have no business
consorting with the living in this way."
"It is those whom you call dead that are really living," Mrs. Frostwinch
retorted smiling. "I brought Berenice so that she might see the vanity of
it all."
Mrs. Staggchase presented Maurice to the ladies, and after they had
spoken on the stairs with one and another acquaintance, and Maurice
had exchanged a word with his friend Ashe, it chanced that the four left
the house together. Wynne found himself behind with Miss Morison,
while his cousin and Mrs. Frostwinch walked on in advance. He was
seized with a delightful sense of elation at his position, yet so little was
he accustomed to society that he knew not what to say to her. He was

keenly aware that she was glancing askance at his garb, and after a
moment of silence he broke out abruptly in the most naively
unconscious fashion:--
"I am a novice at the Clergy House of St. Mark."
A beautiful color flushed up in Miss Morison's dark cheek; and Wynne
realized how unconventional he had been in replying to a question
which had not been spoken.
"Is it a Catholic order?" she asked, with an evident effort not to look
confused.
"It is not Roman," he responded. "We believe that it is catholic."
"Oh," said she vaguely; and the conversation lapsed.
They walked a moment in silence, and then Maurice made another
effort.
"Has Mrs. Frostwinch been ill?" he asked. "Mrs. Staggchase spoke of
her as a miracle."