Томас Майн Рид - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

There can be no doubt that her father, in extracting this promise, had in view the event about to take place – the grand Smythje ball. There an encounter between the cousins was not only possible, but probable; so much so as to render Mr Vaughan apprehensive. Judith Jessuron was sure to be present – perhaps the Jew himself; and Herbert, of course.

The nephew was now cordially disliked. Stung by the defiant speeches which the young man had made on the day of his arrival, his uncle even detested him: for the proud planter was himself too poor in spirit to admire this quality in any one else.

The Custos had heard all about the hospitality which his neighbour was extending to Herbert, and the kindnesses which the patron was lavishing upon his protégé. Though not a little mystified by what was going on, he availed himself of the ordinary explanation – that it was done to vex himself; and, if so, the stratagem of the Jew was proving perfectly successful: for vexed was Mr Vaughan to his very heart’s core.

The night of the Smythje ball came round in due course. The grand ball-room of the Bay was decorated as became the occasion. Flags, festoons, and devices hung around the walls; and over the doorway a large transparency – supported by the loyal emblems of the Union Jack and banner of Saint George, and surmounted by the colonial colours – proclaimed, in letters of eighteen inches diameter: —

“Welcome to Smythje!”

The hour arrived; the band shortly after; close followed by strings of carriages of every kind current in the Island, containing scores – ay, hundreds of dancers. Twenty miles was nothing to go to a Jamaica ball.

The grand barouche of Loftus Vaughan arrived with the rest, only fashionably behind time, bringing the Custos himself, his truly beautiful daughter, but, above all – as before all perhaps should have been mentioned – the hero of the night.

“Welcome to Smythje!”

How his proud heart swelled with triumph under the magnificent ruffles of his shirt, as he caught sight of the flattering transparency! How conquering his smile, as he turned towards Kate Vaughan, to note the effect which it could not fail to produce!

“Welcome to Smythje!” pealed from a hundred pairs of lips, as the carriage drove up to the door; and then a loud cheer followed the words of greeting; and then the distinguished stranger was ushered into the hall-room; and, after remaining a few moments in a conspicuous position – the cynosure of at least two hundred pairs of eyes – the great man set the example by pairing off with a partner.

The hand struck up, and the dancing began.

It need scarce be said who was Smythje’s first partner – Kate Vaughan, of course. The Custos had taken care of that.

Smythje looked superb. Thoms had been at him all the afternoon. His hay-coloured hair was in full curl – his whiskers in amplest bush – his moustache crimped spirally at the points; and his cheek pinked with just the slightest tinting of vermillion.

Arrived a little late, the Jewess had not appeared in the first set. In the waltz she was conspicuous: not from her dress of rich purple velvet – not from the splendid tiara of pearls that glistened against the background of her glossy raven hair – not from the dazzling whiteness of her teeth, that gleamed between lips like curved and parted rose-leaves – not from the damask tinting of her cheeks; nor the liquid light that flashed incessantly from her black, Israelitish eyes – not from any of these was she conspicuous; but from all combined into one, and composing a grand and imperious picture.

It was a picture upon which more than one eye gazed with admiration; and more than one continued to gaze.

The partner of Judith was not unworthy to embrace such beauty.

She was in the arms of a young man, a stranger to most in the room; but the glances bestowed upon him by bright eyes – some interrogative, some furtive, some openly admiring – promised him an easy introduction to any one he might fancy to know.

Not that this stranger appeared to be conceitedly conscious of the graces which nature had so lavishly bestowed upon him; or even sensible of the good fortune that had given him such a partner.

On the contrary, he was dancing with despondency in his look, and a cloud upon his brow that even the exciting whirl of the waltz was failing to dissipate!

The partner of Judith Jessuron was Herbert Vaughan.

A ball-room may be likened to a kaleidoscope: the personages are the same, their relative positions constantly changing. Design it or not, either during the dance or the interregnum – one time or another – you will find yourself face to face, or side by side, with every individual in the room.

So in the ball-room of Montego Bay came face to face two sets of waltzers – Smythje and Kate, Herbert and Judith.

The situation arose as they were resting from the dizzy whirl of a waltz.

Smythje bent profoundly towards the floor – Judith, with an imperious sweep, returned the salutation – Herbert bowed to his cousin, with a half-doubting, half-appealing glance; but the nod received in return was so slight, so distant, that even the keen-eyed Custos, closely watching every movement of the quartette, failed to perceive it!

Poor Kate! She knew that the paternal eye, severely set, was upon her. She remembered that painful promise.

Not a word passed between the parties. Scarce a moment stood they together. Herbert, stung by Kate’s salutation – unexpectedly cold, almost insultingly distant – warped his arm around the waist of his willing partner, and spun off through the unobservant crowd.

Though often again upon that same night Smythje and Kate, Herbert and the Jewess were respectively partners – so often as to lead to general observation – never again did the four stand vis-à-vis or side by side. Whenever chance threatened to bring them together, design, or something like it, stepped in to thwart the approximation!

Almost all the night did Herbert dance with the Jewess – no longer with despondency in his look, but with the semblance of a gay and reckless joy. Never had Judith received from the young Englishman such ardent attention; and for the first time since their introduction to each other did she feel conscious of something like a correspondence to her own fierce love. For the moment her proud, cruel heart became dissolved to a true feminine tenderness; and in the spiral undulations of the waltz, as she coiled round the robust form of her partner, her cheek rested upon his shoulder, as if laid there to expire in the agony of an exquisite bliss.

She stayed not to question the cause of Herbert’s devotedness. Her own heart, blinded by love, and yearning for reciprocity, threw open its portals to receive the passion without challenge or scrutiny – without knowing whether it was real or only apparent.

A wild anguish would she have experienced at that moment, could she have divined what was passing in Herbert’s mind. Little did she suspect that his devotedness to her was only a demonstration intended to act upon another. Little dreamt she that real love for another was the cause and origin of that counterfeit that was deceiving herself. Happily for her heart’s peace she knew not this.

Herbert alone knew it. As the kaleidoscope evolved the dazzling dancers one after another, often did the face of Kate Vaughan flit before the eyes of her cousin, and his before her eyes. On such occasions, the glance hastily exchanged was one of defiant indifference: for both were playing at piques! The cold salutation had given him the cue, ignorant as he was of its cause. She had begun the game only a little later – on observing the attitude of extreme contentment which Herbert had assumed towards his companion. She knew not that it was studied. Her skill in coquetry, although sufficient for the pretence of indifference, was not deep enough to discern it in him; and both were now behaving as if each believed the love of the other beyond all hope.