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The timid boy who had feared the sarcastic tongue of his guardian’s guest, and shrunk from his presence to conceal the jealousy that was his jest, now stood beside his formal rival, serene and self-possessed, by far the manliest man of the two, for no shame daunted him, no fear oppressed him, no dishonorable deed left him at the mercy of another’s tongue.

Gilbert Redmond felt this keenly, and cursed the falsehood which had placed him in such an unenviable position. It was vain to assume the old superiority that was forfeited; but too much a man of the world to be long discomforted by any contretemps like this, he rapidly regained his habitual ease of manner, and avoiding the perilous past clung to the safer present, hoping, by some unguarded look or word, to fathom the purpose of his adversary, for such he knew the husband of Pauline must be at heart. But Manuel schooled his features, curbed his tongue, and when his hot blood tempted him to point his smooth speech with a taunt, or offer a silent insult with the eye, he remembered Pauline, looked down on the graceful head below, and forgot all other passions in that of love.

“Gilbert, my shawl. The sea air chills me.”

“I forgot it, Babie.”

“Allow me to supply the want.”

Mindful of his wife’s commands, Manuel seized this opportunity to win a glance of commendation from her. And taking the downy mantle that hung upon his arm, he wrapped the frail girl in it with a care that made the act as cordial as courteous. Mrs. Redmond felt the charm of his manner with the quickness of a woman, and sent a reproachful glance at Gilbert as she said plaintively, “Ah! It is evident that my honeymoon is over, and the assiduous lover replaced by the negligent husband. Enjoy your midsummer night’s dream while you may, Pauline, and be ready for the awakening that must come.”

“Not to her, madame, for our honeymoon shall last till the golden wedding day comes round. Shall it not, carina?”

“There is no sign of waning yet, Manuel,” and Pauline looked up into her husband’s face with a genuine affection which made her own more beautiful and filled his with a visible content. Gilbert read the glance, and in that instant suffered the first pang of regret that Pauline had foretold. He spoke abruptly, longing to be away.

“Babie, we may dance now, if you will.”

“I am going, but not with you–so give me my fan, and entertain Pauline till my return.”

He unclosed his hand, but the delicately carved fan fell at his feet in a shower of ivory shreds–he had crushed it as he watched his first love with the bitter thought “It might have been!”

“Forgive me, Babie, it was too frail for use; you should choose a stronger.”

“I will next time, and a gentler hand to hold it. Now, Monsieur Laroche, I am ready.”

Mrs. Redmond rose in a small bustle of satisfaction, shook out her flounces, glanced at the mirror, then Manuel led her away; and the other pair were left alone. Both felt a secret agitation quicken their breath and thrill along their nerves, but the woman concealed it best. Gilbert’s eye wandered restlessly to and fro, while Pauline fixed her own on his as quietly as if he were the statue in the niche behind him. For a moment he tried to seem unconscious of it, then essayed to meet and conquer it, but failed signally and, driven to his last resources by that steady gaze, resolved to speak out and have all over before his wife’s return. Assuming the seat beside her, he said, impetuously, “Pauline, take off your mask as I do mine–we are alone now, and may see each other as we are.”

Leaning deep into the crimson curve of the couch, with the indolent grace habitual to her, yet in strong contrast to the vigilant gleam of her eye, she swept her hand across her face as if obeying him, yet no change followed, as she said with a cold smile, “It is off; what next?”