Henderson Daily Dispatch

ALL ABOUT them others were saying it- "A Merry Christmas-a Merry Christmas-a Merry Christmas One joined hands with another until there was a great ring of dancers. Tony came up and literally tore Virginia away from Michael "It's my turn. he said. and danced off with her. "We'll join the others," he added. "It's going to be fun. Midget is having things a bit different." He stopped, picked up a wreath of mistletoe from a cart drawn by two pages. fitted it on Virginia's head and bent down and kissed her. Then suddenly Virginia saw what everybody was doing: all the girls wearing mistletoe, all the men kissing them. She broke from Tony and fled. He followed, laughing. at her heels. "Oh, look here. look here. Virginia!" The ring of dancers charged madly between them and gave her a chance. She ran into the hall and up the stairs, finding sanctuary at last in the picture gallery where in the afternoon she and Tony had talked As she stood in the door. panting a little after her wild race, she saw a leonine head raised above the back of a seat drawn up in front of a painting of a family group. and old Anthony Bleecker spoke to her. "I thought I heard a step." He rose and came toward her. Then as he saw her agitation "My dear child, what's the matter?" She told him, frankly, ran away." "Ran away? From what?" "Tony and the others." Her cheeks were flaming. "Tell me about it." he said. They sat down, and Virginia stated her case, "I'm not a prude or a prig. but they were having a mistletoe cotillion, and I didn't care to be kissed. He laughed a little, but his eyes were understanding. "A woman like you wouldn't In these modern days almost anything goes with young people. But you belong to the generations of gentlewomen who had a sense of personal dignity." "Perhaps that's it," she agreed. "I don't know. You see I've always lived shut away from people. I'm not up-to-date and all that." "Thank heaven, you are not, my dear," he answered smiling. "Sit down and talk to me." She was glad to do it. He asked her questions and she told him about her life in the old house in Annapolis and in that other old house in Washington Square. She told him about the sale, and about the things his wife had bought. She told him about the Dutch spoons, and her roistering ancestor. She told him about the bronze knight on the stairs and about little Roger. She told him about the primrose cat and the little Scotch dog who had followed her home. Old Anthony was much interested in it all. He liked to see her sitting there in her gold lace gown, her bright head against the dark velvet, then sort voice with its Maryland accent speaking a language which had once been his. and which he had almost forgotten For old Anthony loved the things of the heart and mind and spirit, but in the world of business and in the world in which his wife lived these things counted not at all. The only things that counted there were stocks and bonds and sports and jazz. And here was Virginia Oliphant. bringing to him memories of the simplicity and charm and dignity of the life he had lived before he met Jane Bleecker. Oh, well. he was not blaming Jane for anything. He was blaming himself. In a sense a man was master of his fate. He was master at least of his soul. "Tell me." he said to Virginia suddenly. "are you going to marry Tony?" "Why do you ask that?" "Because he's in love with you and I'd like it no end." She lifted her eyes to his. "I'm not in love with him," she said simply. "Couldn't you be?" "I think not." "Is there someone else?" She drew a quick breath. "Yes." "Oh-I'm sorry." They sat in silence for a moment. then he said again. "I am more sorry than I can tell you. Tony needs in a wife just what you can give him. He's not weak. He's simply on the wrong track and you could lead him into other paths. To be perfectly frank he's following false gods. I am not finding fault with his mother. It is her world and she likes it. I am blaming myself. I should have held on to my own ideals. Oh, you don't have to tell me. little Virginia, that you believe in God and life and love and all the other great good things that so many of us scoff at. And if you have children your motherhood will be sacred, and your wifehood will be sacred." He stopped and sat staring for a moment at the picture before him. "That's my family. painted 10 years after our marriage Virginia looked up at the great painting. She had not seen it in the afternoon for Tony had been called away before they reached it. It showed Jane Bleecker in trailing diaphanous blue. with her hair dressed high and a tiara of diamonds. She was seated in a carved chair and her husband leaned on the back of it looking down. Old Anthony was young Anthony then, and so like his son today that it almost took Virginia's breath away to see him-the same fairness. the same air of laughing gaiety. Young Tony, a boy of eight, sat on a cushion at his mother's feet. Pressed against Jane Bleecker's knee was a little girl in white with a rose-colored sash. The contrast between the blue of the mother's gown and the rose-color of the child's sash was exquisite. The whole thing was indeed lovely, and Virginia said so. "The little girl," old Anthony explained, was our daughter. She died when she was five. She was named for my Maryland grandmother. Cynthia Howard. Tony adored her. He has never, I think, got over it. It is because of what he was to little Cynthia that I know what he might be to you. He was very tender. very protective." She laid her hand on his. "I wish I might." "And you can't?" She shook her head. "I'm going to hope a bit." he smiled at her. "there's no one else I'd like so well to see as mistress of Derekdale." Mistress of Derekdale-Mistress of Derekdale-Tony's words came back to her and the shivering sense she had at the time of impending disaster. A voice behind them said, "Anthony." It was a cold voice-Jane Bleecker's. She stood in the doorway. She wore a tulle gown of palest rose. which dripped with rhinestones. She looked young enough to be the granddaughter of the woman in the portrait. "In a few minutes." she said, "we'll be having supper. Aren't you coming. Anthony?" Then, to Virginia, "Michael McMillan was asking for you a moment ago." She did not say that Tony, too, was asking. Old Anthony said, "She ran away from your mistletoe cotillion, Jane, dear. It was a bit too rackety for her taste." Jane shrugged her shoulders, "My dear Tony, we're not mid-Victorian!" Virginia's temper was flaming. but she controlled it. "Your husband has been showing me your portrait, Mrs. Bleecker. You look younger now than you did then." "It's the short hair and my clothes," Jane said. She stood staring up at the lady in the blue dress. Then suddenly her eyes rested on the child in the rose-colored sash. "If Cynthia were here," she said, "she'd be nearly 20." It seemed to Virginia that her voice softened. She wondered if Jane Bleecker's daughter had been at the ball if there would have been a mistletoe cotillion. Jane turned from the picture. "Anthony. we must be going down." The three of them descended the stairs. But at the door of the ballroom. Virginia left the others and made her way to the library. Before she entered she spoke to a servant in the hall, "Do you know Mr. McMillan?" He thought he' could find him. "When you do. will you ask him to come here to Miss Oliphant?" As the man went on his way:Virginia found her cheeks hot. What would he think of her? And what would Michael think? She curled up on the divan behind the screen and waited. He would come in a moment, eager, lighted-up, smiling. (TO BE CONTINUED)