Trifles for the Christmas Holidays | Page 8

my office.
He did not seem at all sure I would know him, or, in fact, very
intimately acquainted with himself. The mingled gruffness and
cordiality of his greeting suggested a dancing-master suffering with
corns. It was a minute or two before his wonted calmness returned; but
finally, with a piteous look of blended tenderness and brutal exultation,
he handed me a card. It contained the handsomely engraved
compliments of Miss Florence Gripstone, and a hope for the pleasure of
my company at a soirée. This was the magic wand that turned penury to
wealth and made the sterile rock blossom with gorgeous flowers. The
beast had a daughter, and with all the ardor of a distorted nature he
loved her.
If, a week before, Gripstone's soirée had been hinted, I think I would
have laughed; but if the assertion had been ventured that it would be
given in a stately house, with spacious grounds, on a fashionable street,
and with "Gripstone" on the door-plate, I know I would have shouted
outright. Yet the house was stately, and the entertainment superb.
Carpets glowing with the gorgeous coloring of the Orient, pictures that
had caught their delicate tinge in sacred Rome, furniture carved from
the solid heart of rose-wood, plate vying in richness with the state
service of a scion of nobility, abounded. Fluttering in the light of many
tinted lamps, rare flowers breathed daintiest odors; and floating through
the high arches, soft music whispered plaintive ecstasy. In the center of
a throng of recently arrived guests, and positively cropping with
broadcloth and Marseilles, beamed the host. Close at his side, radiant in
her beauty, faultless in its adornment, stood the daughter. In one, a

magnificent swallow-tail, fleecy shirt-frill, and snowy gloves had
stamped their wearer with a look of hopeless absurdity; in the other,
exquisite taste, gentle dignity, and true courtesy bore the impress of
glorious womanhood. I was positively bewildered. Could the father of
that lovely girl be the wretch the world hooted at? Could the owner of
all this grandeur be the Beast I fancied my private property?
Carriage-loads of elegantly attired women crowded each other in the
vestibule; dancing beaux congregated in the smoking-room; eminent
merchants, with their wives and daughters, wits of both sexes, women
of the most exclusive ton, thronged the spacious salons. Each in their
turn was greeted with a smirk of ecstatic glee. To Gripstone the
courtesy seemed invested with a proprietary interest. A nod was
receipted with a simper, a grasp of the hand with a scrape, the most
distant recognition by the most obsequious acknowledgment. There
appeared to be no doubt in his mind it was all bought and paid for, but
it did no harm to be polite for once; and comically polite he was.
I will not say he did not gradually begin to wear the look of a man who
had purchased an elephant; for he did. I found him late in the evening
posted behind a column and peering through the window at the
assembled merry-makers. It was evident he owned the whole party, and
that every ringing laugh went with the property; but to him it was a
novel investment, and perhaps more difficult to manage than any other
article he possessed. Partly from a dim consciousness that he had
wandered beyond his depth, and probably from the loneliness
consequent to so uncongenial a spectacle, a companion had become
necessary; and, when I approached, his jump of cordiality was as
uncouth as it was unexpected. So stunned were my senses by the
extraordinary events, that, had he cried out, "Come to my arms, my
long-lost brother!" or were a strawberry-mark actually found, I could
not have been surprised. As it was, his frenzied tugs at the lapel of my
coat threatened its immediate destruction, and my spinal column ached
under his demoniac slaps on the back, before I gasped out my
congratulations.
Wine, excitement, or the society of one who at least had treated him

with common decency, warmed the little geniality that remained in
him.
With a jerk he thrust me into his study, and, while thrilling music swept
through the echoing halls, and the solid flooring swayed under the feet
of the dancers, the Beast opened his heart. Shrinking, as though 'twere
felony, from the penury of early life, flying from a brief hour of
married happiness, in wild triumph he plunged into the dreariness of
the upward struggle. Maddened with success, spurning all thought of
concealment, with shocking exactness he entered into every detail of
the contest, every incident in the appalling history. The low cunning
and miserable privation that accumulated the first paltry hundreds, the
trickery that made them thousands, the heartless sacrifice of
self-respect that doubled and trebled the swelling store, were gloated