The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-10-09
aThat enhances the value threefold, :

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disappointment. 1t is very much like an,
other ballroom; there is no denying thi
sad fact; our friends acknowledge its trutl
with sigh and secret sensation of sur
prise and dissatisfaction.
They had expected something widel,
different; something with touch of bur
lesque about it here and there that would
have made it stand out conspicuously from
among the common ruck of entertainments
They had fondly looked for festival thai
might resemble in mild fashion meet
ing of the Feejee Islanders or a war-danct
among the Red-shanks;and after all they ind
themselves gazing at bell that is as nearly
as possible similar to an ordinary West-enc
affair.
Naturally, therefore, they are little
down-hearted and inwardly aggrieved
Everything is strictly en- regle. The flow
ers, the lights, the music that is swelling
and throhbing through the rooms are all
irreproachable. The whole scene is famil-
lar to them; they have been through it a
thousand times before. Mr.. Bohun, grow
ing superciIious, puts his eye-gIass in bin
eve and looks vaguely round him. =
Really, it is very difficult to know who
is mad and who isn't" he says aloud and
Mr. Wilding; who is at his elbow, assents
wearily. Yes, it is all very disappointing.
OF course, there are few eccentric blots
in the perfect picture; but they are not
numerous and may be counted on the fin
gers of one hand There is, for instance,
at the upper end of the room a lady clad
in the costume of the Bohemian girl, as
she appears in Mr. Balfe's opera. She re-
joices in these parti-colored petticoats, worn
one over another in successive degrees of
shortness, which, if odd, is certainly pic
turesque. That is, the petticoats are; their
wearer, though undoubtedly odd, fails dis
mally in the picturesque. The fact that
she is a gaunt spicster of ffty-fve, with a
gigantic nose and spectacles, rather spoils
the effect. When in her sane mind | have
no doubt she would have shrieked at a
Bohemian and quivered with indignation
at short petticoat; yet now, poor soul, she
goes about harmlessly enough, assuring
everybody she is prima donna and telling
them what success she had at Drury
Lane the last night she sang and how her
Majesty was there and how the Shah Of
Persia flung her bouquet studded with
gems. "Yes, my admiring friend, studded
with gems.
At the other end of the room stands
another blot, evidently trying to sink out
of sight. He is young man of unmistak-
ably gentle breeding but clothed in the
roughest of rough garments. DR.. Norman,
coming up behind our two friends, points
him out.
"Look at that man." he says ''it is very
sad about him, poor fellow He is heir
to baronetcy and eight thousand year
and lovely place at Yorkshire, yet he in
sists upon it that he is an artisan and will
speak nothing but the broadest Yorkshire
dialect"
'eThat accounts for his coat" says Wild
ing.
ayes. Tonight nothing would induce
him to get into his dress clothes. He said
person in his position would be uncom-
Portable in them. He is very uneven in
his temper and we hope we may make a
cure of him yet. Now go and dance with
whom you please. There are several pretty
women in the room. Don't hirt too much
but humor them-humor them p
awe can't be accused of turning their
heads, that's one comfort" says Wilding,
misfortune having done that already"
So they seperate, and Bohun, moving
slowly, somewhat listlessly, from wall to
wall, watches curiously all that is going on
around him.
Half an hour later, standing with his
back to a door, his eyes fall upon a young
and very pretty girl sitting alone upon a
couch at some distance from him. Her
hands are folded on her knees, her eyes
are wandering slowly down the crowd be-
yond her. She is dressed in some filmy
robe of black, little open at the neck,
through which her skin shines with daz-
zling fairness. Her sleeves are cut short
to the elbow, so that her arms, soft and
rounded as child's, can be half seen.
Bohun is attracted and gazes at her in
tently; there is something about her mouth
which is firm, yet very tender, that re-
minds him of some one-whom, he cannot
call to mind. Yes, she is very pretty,
more than pretty-downright lovely; when
Mr.. Bohun comes to this point he raises
himself from his lounging position and
crosses over to the couch on which this
fair divinity is seated 1t is with some
faint feelings of apprehension he takes this
step, lunatics, however beautiful, not being
altogether to his taste.
"Seeing you alone" he begins respect
fully, II thought perhaps you would let
me come and talk to you for little"
The distraught beauty turns her head
and regards him speculatively-perhaps
trife nervously-before replying.
"Oh certainly" she says then in very
sweet voice that has plaintive ring in it.
''Thank you," says Bohun gratefully,
seating himself behind her. Glancing at
the room generally, he says presently with
a view to making conversation
"This is rather gay scene, is it not ?"
every" says Beauty.
"You are fond of dancing ?"
= 9Yos, +" sAy.~-D-~~ty, always With on a;r
of reservation
('Evidently of the monosyllable order,"
thinks Mr.. Bohun, "not demonstrative, at
all events, thank my stars"
''Then why are you not dancing?" ne
asks gently-uery gently, lest he should
rouse sleeping demon.
The pretty maniac pauses moment, as
though to consider her answer and then
says naively:
because nobody has asked me"
"What shame" says Bohun. "One
can hardly believeit. Perhaps" with some
hesitation, ayou will give me the pleasure
Of" He half rises from his seat as he
speaks but at his words his companion
shrinks visibly and puts up one hand in a
manner almost beseechingly.
Oh, thank you, no i' she says, regard
ing him with something like horror in her
eyes. II should much prefer not. Do
not" entreatingly and just little sooth-
ingly, "think me rude but 1 assure you I
should much rather sit STILL
Gas you wish, of course" says Bohun,
reseating himself. ("Doesn't know her
own mind for two seconds together, poor
soul" he tells himself pityingly and knows