But Josephine blushed deeply there in the old-fashioned drawing-room at midnight, and as she turned away she wondered at herself, for she could not believe nor understand what was happening.
Poor girl! She had talked of love so often as an abstract thing, she had seen so many love-makings of others, and so many men had tried to make love to her in her short brilliant life, and she had always thought it could not come near her, because, of course, she really loved Ronald. She had marveled, indeed, at what people were willing to do, and at what they were ready to sacrifice, for a feeling that seemed to her of such little importance as that. It had been an illusion, and the waking had come at last very suddenly. Whoever it might be whom she was destined to take, it was not Ronald. It was madness to think she could be bound forever to him, however much she might admire him and desire him as a friend.
When the clock struck she was thinking of John, and the words he had said that night to his great audience were ringing again in her ears. She blushed indeed at the idea that she was thinking so much of him, but it was not that she believed she loved him. If as yet she really did, she was herself most honestly unconscious of it; and so the blush was not accounted for in the reckoning she made.
She lay awake long, trying to determine what was best to be done, but she could not. One thing she must do; she must explain to Ronald, when he came, that she could never, never marry him.
If only she had a sister, or some one! Dear Aunt Zoruiah was so horrid about such things that it was impossible to talk to her!
CHAPTER VI.
"Do you know how to skate?" Sybil Brandon asked of Joe as the two young girls, clad in heavy furs, walked down the sunny side of Beacon Street two days later. They were going from Miss Schenectady"s to a "lunch party"--one of those social inst.i.tutions of Boston which had most surprised Joe on her first arrival.
"Of course," answered Joe. "I do not know anything, but I can do everything."
"How nice!" said Sybil. "Then you can go with us to-night. That will be too lovely!"
"What is it?"
"We are all going skating on Jamaica Pond. n.o.body has skated for so long here that it is a novelty. I used to be so fond of it."
"We always skate at home, when there is ice," said Joe. "It will be enchanting though, with the full moon and all. What time?"
"Mrs. Sam Wyndham will arrange that," said Sybil. "She is going to matronize us."
"How dreadful, to have to be chaperoned!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Joe. "But Mrs.
Wyndham is very jolly after all, so it does not much matter."
"I believe they used to have Germans here without any mothers," remarked Sybil, "but they never do now."
"Poor little things, how awfully lonely for them!" laughed Joe.
"Who?"
"The Germans--without their mothers. Oh, I forgot the German was the cotillon. You mean cotillons, without tapestry, as we say."
"Yes, exactly. But about the skating party. It will be very select, you know; just ourselves. You know I never go out," Sybil added rather sadly, "but I do love skating so."
"Who are "ourselves"--exactly?"
"Why, you and I, and the Sam Wyndhams, and the Aitchison girls, and Mr.
Topeka, and Mr. Harrington, and Mr. Vancouver--let me see--and Miss St.
Joseph, and young Hannibal. He is very nice, and is very attentive to Miss St. Joseph."
"Is it nice, like that, skating about in couples?" asked Joe.
"No; that is the disagreeable part; but the skating is delicious."
"Let us stay together all the time," said Joe spontaneously, "it will be ever so much pleasanter. I would not exactly like to be paired off with any of those men, you know."
Sybil looked at Joe, opening her wide blue eyes in some astonishment. She did not think Joe was exactly one of those young women who object to a moonlight _tete-a-tete_, if properly chaperoned.
"Yes, if you like, dear," she said. "I would like it much better myself, of course."
"Do you know, Sybil," said Joe, looking up at her taller companion, "I should not think you would care for skating and that sort of thing."
"Why?" asked Sybil.
"You do not look strong enough. You are not a bit like me, brought up on horseback."
"Oh, I am very strong," answered Sybil, "only I am naturally pale, you see, and people think I am delicate."
But the north wind kissed her fair face and the faint color came beneath the white and through it, so that Joe looked at her and thought she was the fairest woman in the world that day.
"When I was a little girl," said Joe, "mamma used to tell me a story about the beautiful Snow Angel: she must have been just like you, dear."
"What is the story?" asked Sybil, the delicate color in her cheek deepening a little.
"I will tell you to-night when we are skating, we have not time now. Here we are." And the two girls went up the steps of the house where they were going to lunch.
On the other side of the street Poc.o.c.k Vancouver and John Harrington met, and stopped to speak just as Joe and Sybil had rung the bell, and stood waiting at the head of the steps.
"Don"t let us look at each other so long as we can look at them," said Vancouver, shaking hands with John, but looking across the street at the two girls. John looked too, and both men bowed.
"They are pretty enough for anything, are they not?" continued Vancouver.
"Yes," said John, "they are very pretty."
With a nod and a smile Joe and Sybil disappeared into the house.
"Why don"t you marry her?" asked Vancouver.
"Which? The English girl?"
"No; Sybil Brandon."
"Thank you, I am not thinking of being married," said John, a half-comic, half-contemptuous look in his strong face. "Miss Brandon could do better than marry a penniless politician, and besides, even if I wanted it, I care too much for Miss Brandon"s friendship to risk losing it by asking her to marry me."
"Nonsense, my dear fellow," said Vancouver, "she would accept you straight off. So would the other."
"You ought to know," said John, eyeing his companion calmly.
Vancouver looked away; it was generally believed that he had been refused by Miss Brandon more than a year previous.