Ethelyn's Mistake - Page 74/218

Ethelyn was horror-stricken. She had cast her pearls before swine; and

with a haughty stare at the offending Timothy, she left the stool, and

walking back to her former seat, said: "I leave the tunes to your sister, who, I believe, plays sometimes."

Somewhat crestfallen, but by no means browbeaten, Tim insisted that

Melinda should give them a jig; and, so, crimsoning with shame and

confusion, Melinda took the vacant stool and played her brother a

tune--a rollicking, galloping tune, which everybody knew, and which set

the feet to keeping time, and finally brought Tim and Andy to the floor

for a dance. But Melinda declined playing for a cotillion which her

brother proposed, and so the dancing arrangement came to naught,

greatly to the delight of Ethelyn, who could only keep back her tears by

looking up at the sweet face of Daisy smiling down upon her from the

wall. That was the only redeeming point in that whole assembly, she

thought. She would not even except Richard then, so intense was her

disappointment and so bitter her regret for the mistake she made when

she promised to go where her heart could never be.

It was nine o'clock when the company dispersed. Each of the ladies

cordially invited Ethelyn to call as soon as convenient, and Mrs.

Harrington, a lady of some cultivation, whose husband was the village

merchant, saying encouragingly to her, as she held her hand a moment,

"Our Western manners seem strange to you, I dare say; but we are a

well-meaning people, and you will get accustomed to us by and by."

She never should--no, never, thought Ethelyn, as she went up to her

room, tired and homesick, and disheartened with this, her first

introduction to the Olney people. It was a very cross wife that slept at

Richard's side that night, and the opinion expressed of the Olneyites

was anything but complimentary to the taste of one who had known them

all his life and liked them so well. But Richard was getting accustomed

to such things. Lectures did not move him now as they had at first, and

overcome with fatigue from his day's work and the evening's excitement,

he fell asleep, while Ethelyn was enlarging upon the merits of the

terrible Tim, who had addressed her as "old lady" and asked her to

"play a tune."