Н. Самуэльян - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

Certain it is, however, that the proposal did not take place on the Jumbé Rock on the day of the eclipse; but was postponed, sine die [529] , to some future occasion.

Chapter 16

The Smythje Ball

As if the eclipse had not been a sufficient climax to the round of fêtes got up for the express amusement of Mr Smythje, only a few days – or, rather, nights – after, still another was inaugurated, to do honour to this young British lion.

Unlike the eclipse, it was a terrestrial phenomenon – one of the most popular of sublunary entertainments – a ball – a complimentary ball – Mr Smythje the recipient of the compliment.

Montego Bay was to be the place; which, notwithstanding its provinciality , had long been celebrated for its brilliant assemblies – from the time that fandangoes were danced by the old Spanish pork-butchers, down to that hour when Mr Montagu Smythje had condescended to honour its salons by the introduction of some very fashionable steps from the world’s metropolis.

The hall was to be a grand affair – one of the grandest ever given in the Bay – and all Planterdom was expected to be present.

Of course, Kate Vaughan would be there; and so, too, the Custos himself.

Mr Smythje would be the hero of the night; and, as such, surrounded by the fairest of the fair – hedged in by a galaxy of beautiful belles, and beset by an army of matchmaking parents, all seeking success with as much eagerness as Loftus Vaughan himself.

Under these circumstances, it would be but simple prudence that Kate should be there to look after him: for the worthy Custos was not unacquainted with the adage, that “the sweetest smelling flower is that nearest the nose.”

Mr Vaughan would have rejoiced at the opportunity thus offered, of letting all the monde [530] of Jamaica know the relationship in which he stood, and was likely to stand, to the distinguished individual to whom the entertainment was dedicated. He had no doubt but that Kate would be chosen as the conspicuous partner: for well knew he the condition of Mr Smythje’s mind upon that subject. To him the latter had made no secret of his affections; and the cunning Custos, who had been all along warily watching the development of the passion, now knew to a certainty that the heart of Montagu’s lord was not only smitten with his daughter, but was irretrievably lost – so far as such a heart could suffer love’s perdition.

No doubt, then, Mr Vaughan would have looked forward to the Smythje ball with pleasant anticipation – as likely to afford him a social triumph – but for a little circumstance that had lately come to his knowledge. It was the incident which had transpired on the Jumbé Rock – the meeting between his daughter and nephew on the day of the eclipse.

The Custos had been the more particular in obtaining the details of that interview from his presumptive son-in-law, on account of a suspicion that had arisen in his mind as to the inclinings of his daughter’s heart. Something she had said – during the first days after Herbert’s brusque dismissal from Mount Welcome – some sympathetic expressions she had made use of – unguarded and overheard, had given rise to this suspicion of her father.

He was sufficiently annoyed about Kate having met Herbert on the Jumbé Rock; and believed it quite possible that the latter had come there in the hope of encountering his cousin.

In Mount Welcome the name of Herbert Vaughan was no longer heard. Even Kate – whether it was that she had grown more sage – for she had been chided more than once for introducing it into the conversation – or whether she had ceased to think of him – even she never pronounced his name.

For all that, Mr Vaughan was still vexed with some lingering suspicion that in that direction lurked danger; and this determined him to prevent, as far as possible, any further interview between his daughter and nephew.

After the encounter on the Jumbé Rock, he had taken his daughter to task upon this subject; and, using the full stretch of parental authority, compelled her to a solemn promise, that she was not again to speak to her cousin, nor even acknowledge his presence!

It was a hard promise for the poor girl to make. Perhaps it would have been still harder, had she known Herbert’s disposition towards her.

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.