Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 106

"Uncle," she said, in a tone slightly reproachful, "is not Ishmael to be with us this evening?"

"My dear, I invited him to join us, but he excused himself."

"Of course, naturally he would do so at first, thinking doubtless that you asked him as a mere matter of form. Uncle, considering his position, you ought to have pressed him to come. You ought not to have permitted him to excuse himself, if you really were in earnest with your invitation. Were you in earnest, sir?"

"Why, of course I was, my dear! Why shouldn't I have been? I should have been really glad to see the young man here enjoying himself this evening."

"Have I your authority for saying so much to Ishmael, even now, uncle?"

inquired Bee eagerly.

"Certainly, my love. Go and oust him from his den. Bring him down here, if you like--and if you can," said the judge cheerily.

Bee left him, glided like a spirit through the crowd, pa.s.sed from the room and went upstairs, flight after flight, until she reached the third floor, and rapped at Ishmael's door.

"Come in," said the rich, deep, sweet voice--always sweet in its tones, whether addressing man, woman, or child--human being or b.u.mb brute; "come in."

Bee entered the little chamber, so dark after the lighted rooms below.

In the recess of the dormer window, at a small table lighted by one candle, sat Ishmael, bending over an open volume. His cheek was pale, his expression weary. He looked up, and recognizing Bee, arose with a smile to meet her.

"How dark you are up here, all alone, Ishmael," she said, coming forward.

Ishmael snuffed his candle, picked the wick, and sat it up on his pile of books that it might give a better light, and then turned again smilingly towards Bee, offered her a chair and stood as if waiting her command.

"What are you doing up here alone, Ishmael?" she inquired, with her hand upon the back of the chair that she omitted to take.

"I am studying 'Kent's Commentaries,'" answered the young man.

"I wish you would study your own health a little more, Ishmael! Why are you not down with us?"

"My dear Bee, I am better here."

"Nonsense, Ishmael! You are here too much. You confine yourself too closely to study. You should remember the plain old proverb--proverbs are the wisdom of nations, you know--the old proverb which says: 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.' Come!"

"My dear friend, Bee, you must excuse me."

"But I will not."

"Bee--"

"I insist upon your coming, Ishmael."

"Bee, do not. I should be the wrong man in the wrong place."

"Now, why do you say that?"

"Because I have no business in a ballroom, Bee."

"You have as much business there as anyone else."

"What should I do there, Bee?"

"Dance! waltz! polka! At our school b.a.l.l.s you were one of the best dancers we had, I recollect. Now, with your memory and your ear for music, you would do as well as then."

"But who would dance with me in Was.h.i.+ngton, dear Bee? I am a total stranger to everyone out of this family. And I have no right to ask an introduction to any of the belles," said Ishmael.

"I will dance with you, Ishmael, to begin with, if you will accept me as a partner. And I do not think you will venture to refuse your little adopted sister and old playmate. Come, Ishmael."

"Dearest little sister, do you know that I declined Judge Merlin's invitation?"

"Yes; he told me so, and sent me here to say to you, that he will not excuse you, that he insists upon your coming. Come, Ishmael!"

"Dear Bee, you constrain me. I will come. Yes, I confess I am glad to be 'constrained.' Sometimes, dear, we require to be compelled to do as we like; or, in other words, our consciences require just excuses for yielding certain points to our inclinations. I have been secretly wis.h.i.+ng to be with you all the evening. The distant sound of the music has been alluring me very persuasively. (That is a magnificent band of Dureezie's, by the way.) I have been longing to join the festivities.

And I am glad, my little liege lady, that you lay your royal commands on me to do so."

"That is right, Ishmael. I must say that you yield gracefully. Well, I will leave you now to prepare your toilet. And--Ishmael?"

"Yes, Bee?"

"Ring for more light! You will never be able to render yourself irresistible with the aid of a single candle on one side of your gla.s.s,"

said Bee, as she made her laughing exit.

Ishmael followed her advice in every particular, and soon made himself ready to appear in the ball. When just about to leave the room he thought of his gloves, and doubted whether he had a pair for drawing-room use. Then suddenly he recollected Bee's Christmas present that he had laid away as something too sacred for use. He went and took from the parcel the straw-colored kid gloves she had given him, and drew them on as he descended the stairs, whispering to himself:

"Even for these I am indebted to her--may Heaven bless her!"

CHAPTER LIV.

ISHMAEL AT THE BALL.

Yes! welcome, right welcome--and give us your hand, You shall not stand "out in the cold"!

If new friends are true friends, I can't understand Why hearts should hold out till they're old; Then come with all welcome and fear not to fling Reserve to the winds and the waves, For thou never canst live, the cold-blooded thing Society makes of its slaves.

--_M.F. Tupper_.

A very handsome young fellow was Ishmael Worth as he entered the drawing room that evening. He had attained his full height, over six feet, and he had grown broad-shouldered and full-chested, with the prospect of becoming the athletic man of majestic presence that he appeared in riper years. His hair and eyes were growing much darker; you might now call the first dark brown and the last dark gray. His face was somewhat fuller; but his forehead was still high, broad, and ma.s.sive, and the line of his profile was clear-cut, distinct, and cla.s.sic; his lips were full and beautifully curved; and, to sum up, he still retained the peculiar charm of his countenance--the habit of smiling only with his eyes. How intense is the light of a smile that is confined to the eyes only. His dress is not worth notice. All gentlemen dress alike for evening parties; all wear the stereotyped black dress coat, light kid gloves, etc., etc., etc., and he wore the uniform for such cases made and provided. Only everything that Ishmael put on looked like the costume of a prince.

He entered the lighted and crowded drawing room very hesitatingly, looking over that splendid but confused a.s.semblage until he caught the eye of Judge Merlin, who immediately came forward to meet him, saying in a low tone:

"I am glad you changed your mind and decided to come down. You must become acquainted with some of my acquaintances. You must make friends, Ishmael, as well as gain knowledge, if you would advance yourself. Come along!"

And the judge led him into the thick of the crowd.

Little more than a year before the judge had said, in speaking of Ishmael: "Of course, owing to the circ.u.mstances of his birth, he never can hope to attain the position of a gentleman, never." But the judge had forgotten all about that now. People usually did forget Ishmael's humble origin in his exalted presence. I use the word "exalted" with truth, as it applied to his air and manner. The judge certainly forgot that Ishmael was not Society's gentleman as well as "nature's n.o.bleman,"

when, taking him through the crowd, he said: