The pineapple was an English hothouse product, the grapes were grown by a costly process under glass in Belgium.As for the peaches, Potin had sent those deli-cately blushing marvels, and the charge for this would be ``not less than a louis apiece, sir--a louis d'or --which, as you no doubt know, is about four dollars of Uncle Sam's money.''
The coffee--``the Queen of Holland may have it on her PRIVATE table--MAY, I say--but I doubt if anyone else in the world gets a smell of it except me''--the coffee and the brandy came not a moment too soon.
Presbury was becoming stupefied with indigestion; his wife was nodding and was wearing that vague, forced, pleasant smile which stands propriety-guard over a mind asleep; Mildred Gower felt that her nerves would endure no more; and the general was falling into a besotted state, spilling his wine, mumbling his words.
The coffee and the brandy revived them all somewhat.
Mildred, lifting her eyes, saw by way of a mirrored section of the enormous sideboard the English butler surveying master and guests with slowly moving, sneering glance of ineffable contempt.
In the drawing-room again Mildred, requested by Siddall and ordered by Presbury, sang a little French song and then--at the urging of Siddall--``Annie Laurie.'' Siddall was wiping his eyes when she turned around.He said to Presbury:
``Take your wife into the conservatory to look at my orchids.I want to say a word to your stepdaughter.''
Mildred started up nervously.She saw how drunk the general was, saw the expression of his face that a woman has to be innocent indeed not to understand.
She was afraid to be left alone with him.Presbury came up to her, said rapidly, in a low tone:
``It's all right.He's got a high sense of what's due a respectable woman of our class.He isn't as drunk as he looks and acts.''
Having said which, he took his wife by the arm and pushed her into the adjoining conservatory.Mildred reseated herself upon the inlaid piano-bench.The little man, his face now shiny with the sweat of drink and emotion, drew up a chair in front of her.He sat--and he was almost as tall sitting as standing.He said graciously:
``Don't be afraid, my dear girl.I'm not that dangerous.''
She lifted her eyes and looked at him.She tried to conceal her aversion; she feared she was not succeeding.
But she need not have concerned herself about that.
General Siddall, after the manner of very rich men, could not conceive of anyone being less impressed with his superiority in any way than he himself was.For years he had heard only flatteries of himself--his own voice singing his praises, the fawning voices of those he hired and of those hoping to get some financial advantage.He could not have imagined a mere woman not being overwhelmed by the prospect of his courting her.Nor would it have entered his head that his money would be the chief, much less the only, consideration with her.He had long since lost all point of view, and believed that the adulation paid his wealth was evoked by his charms of person, mind, and manner.Those who imagine this was evidence of folly and weak-mindedness and extraordinary vanity show how little they know human nature.The strongest head could not re-main steady, the most accurate eyes could not retain their measuring skill, in such an environment as always completely envelops wealth and power.And the much-talked-of difference between those born to wealth and power and those who rise to it from obscurity resolves itself to little more than the difference between those born mad and those who go insane.
Looking at the little man with the disagreeable eyes, so dull yet so shrewd, Mildred saw that within the drunkard who could scarcely sit straight upon the richly upholstered and carved gilt chair there was another person, coldly sober, calmly calculating.And she realized that it was this person with whom she was about to have the most serious conversation of her life thus far.
The drunkard smiled with a repulsive wiping and smacking of the thin, sensual lips.``I suppose you know why I had you brought here this evening?'' said he.
Mildred looked and waited.
``I didn't intend to say anything to-night.In fact, I didn't expect to find in you what I've been looking for.I thought that old fool of a stepfather of yours was cracking up his goods beyond their merits.But he wasn't.My dear, you suit me from the ground up.I've been looking you over carefully.You were made for the place I want to fill.''
Mildred had lowered her eyes.Her face had become deathly pale.``I feel faint,'' she murmured.``It is very warm here.''
``You're not sickly?'' inquired the general sharply.
``You look like a good solid woman--thin but wiry.
Ever been sick? I must look into your health.That's a point on which I must be satisfied.''
A wave of anger swept through her, restoring her strength.She was about to speak--a rebuke to his colossal impudence that he would not soon forget.
Then she remembered, and bit her lips.
``I don't ask you to decide to-night,'' pursued he, hastening to explain this concession by adding: ``Idon't intend to decide, myself.All I say is that I am willing--if the goods are up to the sample.''
Mildred saw her stepfather and her mother watching from just within the conservatory door.A movement of the portiere at the door into the hall let her know that Darcy, the butler, was peeping and listening there.She stood up, clenched her hands, struck them together, struck them against her temples, crossed the room swiftly, flung herself down upon a sofa, and burst into tears.Presbury and his wife entered.Siddall was standing, looking after Mildred with a grin.He winked at Presbury and said:
``I guess we gave her too much of that wine.It's all old and stronger than you'd think.''
``My daughter hardly touched her glasses,'' cried Mrs.Presbury.
``I know that, ma'am,'' replied Siddall.``I watched her.If she'd done much drinking, I'd have been done, then and there.''
