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diff --git a/12354-h/12354-h.htm b/12354-h/12354-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..40177a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/12354-h/12354-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11695 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pink and White Tyranny, by Harriet Beecher Stowe. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%; text-indent: 0;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0;} + + .maintitle {font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .adtitle2 {font-size: 150%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + .spaced {letter-spacing: 25px;} + .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .authorof {font-size: 60%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.splittop {display:block;}plit { + float: left; + clear: left; + padding-right: 2%; + padding-left: 0; + padding-top: 0; + padding-bottom: 0; + } +.split { + float: left; + clear: left; + padding-right: 2%; + padding-left: 0; + padding-top: 0; + padding-bottom: 0; + } +@media handheld { + .split {float: left; position: relative; z-index: 1;} +} + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 0;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0;} + .faux { + font-size: 0.5em; /*this font size could be anything */ + visibility: hidden;} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%} +hr.full {width: 95%;} + +@media handheld +{ + .chapter-beginning + { + page-break-before: always; + } + + h2.no-break + { + page-break-before: avoid; + padding-top: 0; + } +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry .stanza +{ + margin: 1em auto; +} +.poetry .verse +{ + text-indent: -3em; + padding-left: 3em; +} +.poetry .indent2 +{ + text-indent: -2em; +} +.poetry-container, .list-container +{ + text-align: center; +} + +.poetry +{ + text-align: left; + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +@media handheld +{ + .poetry + { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; + } +} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.drop-cap { + text-indent: 0em; text-align: justify; +} +.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: .5em; +} +@media handheld +{ + .drop-cap:first-letter + { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; + } +} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12354 ***</div> + +<h1 class='faux'>PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY.</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 614px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="614" height="872" alt="cover" /> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<p class='blockquot'><span class="smcap">“Make their acquaintance; for Amy will be +found delightful, Beth very lovely, Meg beautiful, and Jo splendid!</span>”—<i>The Catholic World.</i></p> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>LITTLE WOMEN. By <span class="smcap">Louisa M. Alcott</span>. +In Two Parts. Price of each $1.50.</p> + +<p>“Simply one of the most charming little books that have fallen into our hands +for many a day. There is just enough of sadness in it to make it true to life, while +it is so full of honest work and whole-souled fun, paints so lively a picture of a home +in which contentment, energy, high spirits, and real goodness make up for the lack +of money, that it will do good wherever it finds its way. Few will read it without +lasting profit.”—<i>Hartford Courant.</i></p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Little Women.</span> By Louisa M. Alcott. We regard these volumes as two +of the most fascinating that ever came into a household. Old and young read them +with the same eagerness. Lifelike in all their delineations of time, place, and +character, they are not only intensely interesting, but full of a cheerful morality, +that makes them healthy reading for both fireside and the Sunday school. We +think we love ”Jo“ a little better than all the rest, her genius is so happy tempered +with affection.”—<i>The Guiding Star.</i></p> + +<p>The following verbatim copy of a letter from a “little woman” is a specimen +of many which enthusiasm for her book has dictated to the author of “Little +Women:”—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class='right'> +—— March 12, 1870.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Jo, or Miss Alcott</span>,—We have all been reading “Little Women,” and +we liked it so much I could not help wanting to write to you. We think <i>you</i> are +perfectly splendid; I like you better every time I read it. We were all so disappointed +about your not marrying Laurie; I cried over that part,—I could not help +it. We all liked Laurie ever so much, and almost killed ourselves laughing over +the funny things you and he said.</p> + +<p>We are six sisters and two brothers; and there were so many things in “Little +Women” that seemed so natural, especially selling the rags.</p> + +<p>Eddie is the oldest; then there is Annie (our Meg), then Nelly (that’s me), +May and Milly (our Beths), Rosie, Rollie, and dear little Carrie (the baby). +Eddie goes away to school, and when he comes home for the holidays we have +lots of fun, playing cricket, croquet, base ball, and every thing. If you ever want +to play any of those games, just come to our house, and you will find plenty children +to play with you.</p> + +<p>If you ever come to ——, I do wish you would come and see us,—we would +like it so much.</p> + +<p>I have named my doll after you, and I hope she will try and deserve it.</p> + +<p>I do wish you would send me a picture of you. I hope your health is better, +and you are having a nice time.</p> + +<p>If you write to me, please direct —— Ill. All the children send their love.</p> + +<p>With ever so much love, from your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Nelly</span>.<br /> +</p></blockquote> + + +<p><i>Mailed to any address, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised +price.</i></p> + +<p class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><span class="smcap">ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers</span>,</span><br /> +<i>Boston</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<hr class="full" /> + + + +<p class='drop-cap'>AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. By <span class="smcap">Louisa +M. Alcott</span>. With Illustrations. Price $1.50.</p> + + +<p>“Miss Alcott has a faculty of entering into the lives and feelings of children +that is conspicuously wanting in most writers who address them; and to this cause, +to the consciousness among her readers that they are hearing about people like +themselves, instead of abstract qualities labelled with names, the popularity of her +books is due. Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy are friends in every nursery and schoolroom, +and even in the parlor and office they are not unknown; for a good story is +interesting to older folks as well, and Miss Alcott carries on her children to manhood +and womanhood, and leaves them only on the wedding-day.”—<i>Mrs. Sarah +J. Hale in Godey’s Ladies’ Book.</i></p> + +<p>“We are glad to see that Miss Alcott is becoming naturalized among us as a +writer, and cannot help congratulating ourselves on having done something to +bring about the result. The author of ‘Little Women’ is so manifestly on the +side of all that is ‘lovely, pure, and of good report’ in the life of women, and +writes with such genuine power and humor, and with such a tender charity and +sympathy, that we hail her books with no common pleasure. ‘An Old-Fashioned +Girl’ is a protest from the other side of the Atlantic against the manners of the +creature which we know on this by the name of ‘the Girl of the Period;’ but the +attack is delivered with delicacy as well as force.”—<i>The London Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>“A charming little book, brimful of the good qualities of intellect and heart +which made ‘Little Women’ so successful. The ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ carries +with it a teaching specially needed at the present day, and we are glad to know it +is even already a decided and great success.”—<i>New York Independent.</i></p> + +<p>“Miss Alcott’s new story deserves quite as great a success as her famous ”Little +Women,“ and we dare say will secure it. She has written a book which child +and parent alike ought to read, for it is neither above the comprehension of the one, +nor below the taste of the other. Her boys and girls are so fresh, hearty, and natural, +the incidents of her story are so true to life, and the tone is so thoroughly +healthy, that a chapter of the ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ wakes up the unartificial better +life within us almost as effectually as an hour spent in the company of good, honest, +sprightly children. The Old-Fashioned Girl, Polly Milton, is a delightful +creature!”—<i>New York Tribune.</i></p> + +<p>“Gladly we welcome the ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ to heart and home! Joyfully +we herald her progress over the land! Hopefully we look forward to the time +when our young people, following her example, will also be old-fashioned in purity +of heart and simplicity of life, thus brightening like a sunbeam the atmosphere +around them.”—<i>Providence Journal.</i></p> + + +<p><i>Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised price, by +the Publishers</i>,</p> + +<p class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">ROBERTS BROTHERS,</span><br /> +<i>Boston</i><br /> +</p> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class='adtitle2'><small>MESSRS. ROBERTS BROTHERS’</small><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Recent New Books.</span></div> + + + +<p>A VISIT TO MY DISCONTENTED COUSIN. Handy-Volume +Series, No. 8. 16mo. $1.00.</p> + +<p>BURNAND (F. C.). More Happy Thoughts. 16mo. $1.00.</p> + +<p>ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN. The Forest House and Catherine’s +Lovers. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>HELPS (<span class="smcap">Arthur</span>). Essays Written in the Intervals of Business. +16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>—— Brevia: Short Essays and Aphorisms. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>—— Conversations on War and General Culture. 16mo. +$1.50.</p> + +<p>HALE (<span class="smcap">Edward E.</span>). Ten times One is Ten. 16mo. $0.88.</p> + +<p>HAMERTON (<span class="smcap">Philip G.</span>). Thoughts about Art. 16mo. +$2.00.</p> + +<p>INGELOW (<span class="smcap">Jean</span>). The Monitions of the Unseen, and Poems +of Love and Childhood. 12 Illustrations. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>JUDD (<span class="smcap">Sylvester</span>). Margaret: A Tale of the Real and the +Ideal, of Blight and Bloom. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>—— Richard Edney and the Governor’s Family. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>KONEWKA (<span class="smcap">Paul</span>). Silhouette Illustrations to Goethe’s +Faust. Quarto. $4.00.</p> + +<p>LOWELL (<span class="smcap">Mrs. A. C.</span>). Posies for Children. 16mo. $0.75.</p> + +<p>LANDOR (<span class="smcap">Walter Savage</span>). Pericles and Aspasia. 16mo. +$1.50.</p> + +<p>MAX AND MAURICE. Translated by Charles T. Brooks. +12mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>MICHELET (<span class="smcap">M. Jules</span>). France Before Europe. 16mo. $1.00.</p> + +<p>PARKER (<span class="smcap">Joseph</span>). Ad Clerum: Advices to a Young Preacher. +16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>PRESTON (<span class="smcap">Harriet W.</span>). Aspendale. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>PUCK’S NIGHTLY PRANKS. Silhouette Illustrations by +Paul Konewka. Paper Covers. $0.50</p> + +<p>SEELEY (J. R.). Roman Imperialism and Other Lectures and +Essays. 16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>STOWE (<span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher</span>). Pink and White Tyranny. +16mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p>JOHN WHOPPER’S ADVENTURES. 16mo. $0.75.</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Miss Alcott is really a benefactor of House-holds.</span>”—<i>H. H.</i></p> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>LITTLE MEN: Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys. +By <span class="smcap">Louisa M. Alcott</span>. With Illustrations. Price +$1.50.</p> + +<p>“The gods are to be congratulated upon the success of the Alcott experiment, +as well as all childhood, young and old, upon the singular charm of the little men +and little women who have run forth from the Alcott cottage, children of a maiden +whose genius is beautiful motherhood.”—<i>The Examiner.</i></p> + +<p>“No true-hearted boy or girl can read this book without deriving benefit from +the perusal: nor, for that matter, will it the least injure children of a larger growth +to endeavor to profit by the examples of gentleness and honesty set before them in +its pages. What a delightful school ‘Jo’ did keep! Why, it makes us want to +live our childhood’s days over again, in the hope that we might induce some kind-hearted +female to establish just such a school, and might prevail upon our parents +to send us, ‘because it was cheap.’ . . . We wish the genial authoress a long +life in which to enjoy the fruits of her labor, and cordially thank her, in the name +of our young people, for her efforts in their behalf.”—<i>Waterbury American.</i></p> + +<p>“Miss Alcott, whose name has already become a household word among little +people, will gain a new hold upon their love and admiration by this little book. +It forms a fitting sequel to ‘Little Women,’ and contains the same elements of +popularity. . . . We expect to see it even more popular than its predecessor, and +shall heartily rejoice at the success of an author whose works afford so much hearty +and innocent enjoyment to the family circle, and teach such pleasant and wholesome +lessons to old and young.”—<i>N. Y. Times.</i></p> + +<p>“Suggestive, truthful, amusing, and racy, in a certain simplicity of style which +very few are capable of producing. It is the history of only six months’ school-life +of a dozen boys, but is full of variety and vitality, and the having girls +with the boys is a charming novelty, too. To be very candid, this book is so +thoroughly good that we hope Miss Alcott will give us another in the same genial +vein, for she understands children and their ways.”—<i>Phil. Press.</i></p> + +<p>A specimen letter from a little woman to the author of “Little Men.”</p> +<blockquote> +<p class='right'> +June 17, 1871.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Alcott</span>,—We have just finished “Little Men,” and like it so +much that we thought we would write and ask you to write another book sequel to +“Little Men,” and have more about Laurie and Amy, as we like them the best. +We are the Literary Club, and we got the idea from “Little Women.” We have +a paper two sheets of foolscap and a half. There are four of us, two cousins and +my sister and myself. Our assumed names are: Horace Greeley, President; Susan +B. Anthony, Editor; Harriet B. Stowe, Vice-President; and myself, Anna C. +Ritchie, Secretary. We call our paper the “Saturday Night,” and we all write +stories and have reports of sermons and of our meetings, and write about the +queens of England. We did not know but you would like to hear this, as the +idea sprang from your book; and we thought we would write, as we liked your +book <i>so</i> much. And now, if it is not too much to ask of you, I wish you would +answer this, as we are very impatient to know if you will write another book; and +please answer soon, as Miss Anthony is going away, and she wishes very much to +hear from you before she does. If you write, please direct to —— Street, Brooklyn, +N.Y.</p> + +<p class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;">Yours truly,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Alice</span> ——.<br /> +</p></blockquote> + + +<p><i>Mailed to any address, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised +price, by the Publishers,</i></p> + +<p class='sig'> +ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<div class='maintitle'><span class="smcap">Pink and White +Tyranny.</span></div> + +<div class='center'> +<big>A Society Novel.</big><br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +BY<br /> +<span class='author'>MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,</span><br /> +<span class='authorof'>AUTHOR OF “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN,” “THE MINISTER’S WOOING,” ETC.</span><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">“Come, then, the colors and the ground prepare;</div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air;</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.”</span></div> +<div class='sig'><span class="smcap">Pope.</span></div> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class='center'><br /><br /><br /> +BOSTON:<br /> +<small>ROBERTS BROTHERS.</small><br /> +1871.<br /> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class='copyright'> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by<br /> +<small>HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,</small><br /> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.<br /> +<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +<small>CAMBRIDGE:</small><br /> +<small>PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.</small><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MY <span class="smcap">Dear Reader</span>,—This story is not to be a novel, +as the world understands the word; and we tell +you so beforehand, lest you be in ill-humor by not finding +what you expected. For if you have been told that +your dinner is to be salmon and green peas, and made +up your mind to that bill of fare, and then, on coming +to the table, find that it is beefsteak and tomatoes, +you may be out of sorts; <i>not</i> because beefsteak and +tomatoes are not respectable viands, but because they +are not what you have made up your mind to enjoy.</p> + +<p>Now, a novel, in our days, is a three-story affair,—a +complicated, complex, multiform composition, requiring +no end of scenery and <i>dramatis personæ</i>, and plot +and plan, together with trap-doors, pit-falls, wonderful +escapes and thrilling dangers; and the scenes transport +one all over the earth,—to England, Italy, Switzerland, +Japan, and Kamtschatka. But this is a little commonplace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> +history, all about one man and one woman, living +straight along in one little prosaic town in New England. +It is, moreover, a story with a moral; and for +fear that you shouldn’t find out exactly what the moral +is, we shall adopt the plan of the painter who wrote +under his pictures, “This is a bear,” and “This is a +turtle-dove.” We shall tell you in the proper time +succinctly just what the moral is, and send you off +edified as if you had been hearing a sermon. So please +to call this little sketch a parable, and wait for the +exposition thereof.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr> +<td align="left" colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Chap.</span></td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">I. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Falling in Love</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">II. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">What she thinks of it</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">III. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Sister</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">IV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Preparation for Marriage</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">V. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wedding, and Wedding-trip</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Honey-moon, and after</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Will she like it?</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Spindlewood</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">IX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Crisis</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">X. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Changes</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Newport; or, the Paradise of Nothing to do</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Home à la Pompadour</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">John’s Birthday</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Great Moral Conflict</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Follingsbees arrive</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XVI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. John Seymour’s Party, and what came of it</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XVII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">After the Battle</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XVIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Brick turns up</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XIX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Castle of Indolence</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_228">228</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Van Astrachans</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Follingsbee’s Party, and what came of it</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Spider-web broken</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Common-sense Arguments</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sentiment</span> <i>v.</i> <span class="smcap">Sensibility</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wedding Bells</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Motherhood</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Checkmate</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">After the Storm</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The New Lillie</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY.</h2> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br /> + +<i><small>FALLING IN LOVE.</small></i></h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 313px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="313" height="471" alt="girl with parasol" /> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Lillie.</span></div> +</div> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“WHO <i>is</i> that beautiful creature?” said John +Seymour, as a light, sylph-like form tripped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +up the steps of the veranda of the hotel where he was +lounging away his summer vacation.</p> + +<p>“That! Why, don’t you know, man? That is the +celebrated, the divine Lillie Ellis, the most adroit ‘fisher +of men’ that has been seen in our days.”</p> + +<p>“By George, but she’s pretty, though!” said John, +following with enchanted eyes the distant motions of +the sylphide.</p> + +<p>The vision that he saw was of a delicate little fairy +form; a complexion of pearly white, with a cheek of +the hue of a pink shell; a fair, sweet, infantine face surrounded +by a fleecy radiance of soft golden hair. The +vision appeared to float in some white gauzy robes; +and, when she spoke or smiled, what an innocent, fresh, +untouched, unspoiled look there was upon the face! +John gazed, and thought of all sorts of poetical similes: +of a “daisy just wet with morning dew;” of a “violet +by a mossy stone;” in short, of all the things that poets +have made and provided for the use of young gentlemen +in the way of falling in love.</p> + +<p>This John Seymour was about as good and honest a +man as there is going in this world of ours. He was +a generous, just, manly, religious young fellow. He +was heir to a large, solid property; he was a well-read +lawyer, established in a flourishing business; he was a +man that all the world spoke well of, and had cause to +speak well of. The only duty to society which John +had left as yet unperformed was that of matrimony. +Three and thirty years had passed; and, with every +advantage for supporting a wife, with a charming home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +all ready for a mistress, John, as yet, had not proposed +to be the defender and provider for any of the more +helpless portion of creation. The cause of this was, in +the first place, that John was very happy in the society +of a sister, a little older than himself, who managed his +house admirably, and was a charming companion to his +leisure hours; and, in the second place, that he had a +secret, bashful self-depreciation in regard to his power +of pleasing women, which made him ill at ease in their +society. Not that he did not mean to marry. He +certainly did. But the fair being that he was to marry +was a distant ideal, a certain undefined and cloudlike +creature; and, up to this time, he had been waiting to +meet her, without taking any definite steps towards +that end. To say the truth, John Seymour, like many +other outwardly solid, sober-minded, respectable citizens, +had deep within himself a little private bit of romance. +He could not utter it, he never talked it; he would +have blushed and stammered and stuttered wofully, +and made a very poor figure, in trying to tell any one +about it; but nevertheless it was there, a secluded +chamber of imagery, and the future Mrs. John Seymour +formed its principal ornament.</p> + +<p>The wife that John had imaged, his <i>dream</i>-wife, was +not at all like his sister; though he loved his sister +heartily, and thought her one of the best and noblest +women that could possibly be.</p> + +<p>But his sister was all plain prose,—good, strong, +earnest, respectable prose, it is true, but yet prose. He +could read English history with her, talk accounts and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +business with her, discuss politics with her, and valued +her opinions on all these topics as much as that of any +man of his acquaintance. But, with the visionary Mrs. +John Seymour aforesaid, he never seemed to himself to +be either reading history or settling accounts, or talking +politics; he was off with her in some sort of enchanted +cloudland of happiness, where she was all to +him, and he to her,—a sort of rapture of protective love +on one side, and of confiding devotion on the other, +quite inexpressible, and that John would not have +talked of for the world.</p> + +<p>So when he saw this distant vision of airy gauzes, of +pearly whiteness, of sea-shell pink, of infantine smiles, +and waving, golden curls, he stood up with a shy desire +to approach the wonderful creature, and yet with a +sort of embarrassed feeling of being very awkward and +clumsy. He felt, somehow, as if he were a great, coarse +behemoth; his arms seemed to him awkward appendages; +his hands suddenly appeared to him rough, and +his fingers swelled and stumpy. When he thought of +asking an introduction, he felt himself growing very +hot, and blushing to the roots of his hair.</p> + +<p>“Want to be introduced to her, Seymour?” said +Carryl Ethridge. “I’ll trot you up. I know her.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you,” said John, stiffly. In his heart, he +felt an absurd anger at Carryl for the easy, assured +way in which he spoke of the sacred creature who +seemed to him something too divine to be lightly +talked of. And then he saw Carryl marching up to +her with his air of easy assurance. He saw the bewitching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +smile come over that fair, flowery face; he +saw Carryl, with unabashed familiarity, take her fan +out of her hand, look at it as if it were a mere +common, earthly fan, toss it about, and pretend to fan +himself with it.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="380" height="501" alt="Man talking to girl in crowd" /> +<div class="caption">“I didn’t know he was such a puppy.”</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I didn’t know he was such a puppy!” said John to +himself, as he stood in a sort of angry bashfulness, +envying the man that was so familiar with that loveliness.</p> + +<p>Ah! John, John! You wouldn’t, for the world, +have told to man or woman what a fool you were at +that moment.</p> + +<p>“What a fool I am!” was his mental commentary: +“just as if it was any thing to me.” And he turned, +and walked to the other end of the veranda.</p> + +<p>“I think you’ve hooked another fish, Lillie,” said +Belle Trevors in the ear of the little divinity.</p> + +<p>“Who. . . ?”</p> + +<p>“Why! that Seymour there, at the end of the veranda. +He is looking at you, do you know? He is +rich, very rich, and of an old family. Didn’t you see +how he started and looked after you when you came up +on the veranda?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I saw plain enough,” said the divinity, with +one of her unconscious, baby-like smiles.</p> + +<p>“What are you ladies talking?” said Carryl Ethridge.</p> + +<p>“Oh, secrets!” said Belle Trevors. “You are very +presuming, sir, to inquire.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ethridge,” said Lillie Ellis, “don’t you think it +would be nice to promenade?”</p> + +<p>This was said with such a pretty coolness, such a +quiet composure, as showed Miss Lillie to be quite mistress +of the situation; there was, of course, no sort of +design in it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ethridge offered his arm at once; and the two sauntered +to the end of the veranda, where John Seymour +was standing.</p> + +<p>The blood rushed in hot currents over him, and he +could hear the beating of his heart: he felt somehow as +if the hour of his fate was coming. He had a wild +desire to retreat, and put it off. He looked over the +end of the veranda, with some vague idea of leaping it; +but alas! it was ten feet above ground, and a lover’s leap +would have only ticketed him as out of his head. There +was nothing for it but to meet his destiny like a man.</p> + +<p>Carryl came up with the lady on his arm; and as he +stood there for a moment, in the coolest, most indifferent +tone in the world, said, “Oh! by the by, Miss Ellis, let +me present my friend Mr. Seymour.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="386" height="303" alt="Man lifting hat to young woman with man by her side" /> +<div class="caption">“Let me present my friend, Mr. Seymour.”</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>The die was cast.</p> + +<p>John’s face burned like fire: he muttered something +about “being happy to make Miss Ellis’s acquaintance,” +looking all the time as if he would be glad to jump +over the railing, or take wings and fly, to get rid of +the happiness.</p> + +<p>Miss Ellis was a belle by profession, and she understood +her business perfectly. In nothing did she show +herself master of her craft, more than in the adroitness +with which she could soothe the bashful pangs of new +votaries, and place them on an easy footing with her.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Seymour,” she said affably, “to tell the truth, I +have been desirous of the honor of your acquaintance, +ever since I saw you in the breakfast-room this morning.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I am very much flattered,” said John, his +heart beating thick and fast. “May I ask why you +honor me with such a wish?”</p> + +<p>“Well, to tell the truth, because you strikingly resemble +a very dear friend of mine,” said Miss Ellis, with +her sweet, unconscious simplicity of manner.</p> + +<p>“I am still more flattered,” said John, with a quicker +beating of the heart; “only I fear that you may find me +an unpleasant contrast.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I think not,” said Lillie, with another smile: +“we shall soon be good friends, too, I trust.”</p> + +<p>“I trust so certainly,” said John, earnestly.</p> + +<p>Belle Trevors now joined the party; and the four +were soon chatting together on the best footing of +acquaintance. John was delighted to feel himself +already on easy terms with the fair vision.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You have not been here long?” said Lillie to John.</p> + +<p>“No, I have only just arrived.”</p> + +<p>“And you were never here before?”</p> + +<p>“No, Miss Ellis, I am entirely new to the place.”</p> + +<p>“I am an old <i>habituée</i> here,” said Lillie, “and can +recommend myself as authority on all points connected +with it.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said John, “I hope you will take me under +your tuition.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, free of charge,” she said, with another +ravishing smile.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t seen the boiling spring yet?” she +added.</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t seen any thing yet.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, if you’ll give me your arm across the +lawn, I’ll show it to you.”</p> + +<p>All of this was done in the easiest, most matter-of-course +manner in the world; and off they started, John +in a flutter of flattered delight at the gracious acceptance +accorded to him.</p> + +<p>Ethridge and Belle Trevors looked after them with a +nod of intelligence at each other.</p> + +<p>“Hooked, by George!” said Ethridge.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’ll be a good thing for Lillie, won’t it?”</p> + +<p>“For her? Oh, yes, a capital thing <i>for her!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Well, for <i>him</i> too.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know. John is a pretty nice fellow; +a very nice fellow, besides being rich, and all that; and +Lillie is somewhat shop-worn by this time. Let me +see: she must be seven and twenty.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, she’s all that!” said Belle, with ingenuous +ardor. “Why, she was in society while I was a school-girl! +Yes, dear Lillie is certainly twenty-seven, if not +more; but she keeps her freshness wonderfully.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she looks fresh enough, I suppose, to a good, +honest, artless fellow like John Seymour, who knows as +little of the world as a milkmaid. John is a great, innocent, +country steer, fed on clover and dew; and as honest +and ignorant of all sorts of naughty, wicked things as +his mother or sister. He takes Lillie in a sacred simplicity +quite refreshing; but to me Lillie is played out. I +know her like a book. I know all her smiles and wiles, +advices and devices; and her system of tactics is an old +story with me. I shan’t interrupt any of her little +games. Let her have her little field all to herself: it’s +time she was married, to be sure.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, John was being charmingly ciceroned by +Lillie, and scarcely knew whether he was in the body or +out. All that he felt, and felt with a sort of wonder, +was that he seemed to be acceptable and pleasing in the +eyes of this little fairy, and that she was leading him +into wonderland.</p> + +<p>They went not only to the boiling spring, but up and +down so many wild, woodland paths that had been cut +for the adornment of the Carmel Springs, and so well +pleased were both parties, that it was supper-time before +they reappeared on the lawn; and, when they did +appear, Lillie was leaning confidentially on John’s arm, +with a wreath of woodbine in her hair that he had +arranged there, wondering all the while at his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +wonderful boldness, and at the grace of the fair entertainer.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 293px;"> +<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="293" height="324" alt="couple walking" /> +<div class="caption">“Lillie was leaning confidentially on John’s arm.”</div> +</div> + +<p>The returning couple were seen from the windows +of Mrs. Chit, who sat on the lookout for useful information; +and who forthwith ran to the apartments of +Mrs. Chat, and told her to look out at them.</p> + +<p>Billy This, who was smoking his cigar on the veranda, +immediately ran and called Harry That to look at +them, and laid a bet at once that Lillie had “hooked” +Seymour.</p> + +<p>“She’ll have him, by George, she will!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw! she is always hooking fellows, but you +see she don’t get married,” said matter-of-fact Harry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +“It won’t come to any thing, now, I’ll bet. Everybody +said she was engaged to Danforth, but it all ended +in smoke.”</p> + +<p>Whether it would be an engagement, or would all +end in smoke, was the talk of Carmel Springs for the +next two weeks.</p> + +<p>At the end of that time, the mind of Carmel Springs +was relieved by the announcement that it was an +engagement.</p> + +<p>The important deciding announcement was first +authentically made by Lillie to Belle Trevors, who had +been invited into her room that night for the purpose.</p> + +<p>“Well, Belle, it’s all over. He spoke out to-night.”</p> + +<p>“He offered himself?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>“And you took him?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I did: I should be a fool not to.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, so I think, decidedly!” said Belle, kissing her +friend in a rapture. “You dear creature! how nice! +it’s splendid!”</p> + +<p>Lillie took the embrace with her usual sweet composure, +and turned to her looking-glass, and began taking +down her hair for the night. It will be perceived +that this young lady was not overcome with emotion, +but in a perfectly collected state of mind.</p> + +<p>“He’s a little bald, and getting rather stout,” she +said reflectively, “but he’ll do.”</p> + +<p>“I never saw a creature so dead in love as he is,” +said Belle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>A quiet smile passed over the soft, peach-blow cheeks +as Lillie answered,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, yes! He perfectly worships the ground +I tread on.”</p> + +<p>“Lil, you fortunate creature, you! Positively it’s +the best match that there has been about here this summer. +He’s rich, of an old, respectable family; and then +he has good principles, you know, and all that,” said +Belle.</p> + +<p>“I think he’s nice myself,” said Lillie, as she stood +brushing out a golden tangle of curls. “Dear me!” +she added, “how +much better he is +than that Danforth! +Really, +Danforth was a +little too horrid: +his teeth were +dreadful. Do you +know, I should +have had something +of a struggle +to take him, +though he was so +terribly rich? +Then Danforth had been horridly dissipated,—you +don’t know,—Maria Sanford told me such shocking +things about him, and she knows they are true. Now, +I don’t think John has ever been dissipated.”</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 247px;"> +<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="247" height="277" alt="two girls talking" /> +<div class="caption">“I think he’s nice myself.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said Belle. “I heard all about him. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +joined the church when he was only twenty, and has +been always spoken of as a perfect model. I only think +you may find it a little slow, living in Springdale. He +has a fine, large, old-fashioned house there, and his sister +is a very nice woman; but they are a sort of respectable, +retired set,—never go into fashionable company.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it!” said Lillie. “I shall have +things my own way, I know. One isn’t obliged to live +in Springdale, nor with pokey old sisters, you know; +and John will do just as I say, and live where I +please.”</p> + +<p>She said this with her simple, soft air of perfect assurance, +twisting her shower of bright, golden curls; +with her gentle, childlike face, and soft, beseeching, +blue eyes, and dimpling little mouth, looking back on +her, out of the mirror. By these the little queen had +always ruled from her cradle, and should she not rule +now? Was it any wonder that John was half out of +his wits with joy at thought of possessing <i>her?</i> Simply +and honestly, she thought not. He was to be +congratulated; though it wasn’t a bad thing for her, +either.</p> + +<p>“Belle,” said Lillie, after an interval of reflection, +“I won’t be married in white satin,—that I’m resolved +on. Now,” she said, facing round with increasing earnestness, +“there have been five weddings in our set, +and all the girls have been married in just the same +dress,—white satin and point lace, white satin and +point lace, over and over, till I’m tired of it. <i>I’m</i> +determined I’ll have something new.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, I would, I’m sure,” said Belle. “Say white +tulle, for instance: you know you are so <i>petite</i> and fairy-like.”</p> + +<p>“No: I shall write out to Madame La Roche, and +tell her she must get up something wholly original. I +shall send for my whole <i>trousseau</i>. Papa will be glad +enough to come down, since he gets me off his hands, +and no more fuss about bills, you know. Do you know, +Belle, that creature is just wild about me: he’d like to +ransack all the jewellers’ shops in New York for me. +He’s going up to-morrow, just to choose the engagement +ring. He says he can’t trust to an order; that he +must go and choose one worthy of me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! it’s plain enough that that game is all in your +hands, as to him, Lillie; but, Lil, what will your Cousin +Harry say to all this?”</p> + +<p>“Well, of course he won’t like it; but I can’t help it +if he don’t. Harry ought to know that it’s all nonsense +for him and me to think of marrying. He does +know it.”</p> + +<p>“To tell the truth, I always thought, Lil, you were +more in love with Harry than anybody you ever knew.”</p> + +<p>Lillie laughed a little, and then the prettiest sweet-pea +flush deepened the pink of her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“To say the truth, Belle, I could have been, if he +had been in circumstances to marry. But, you see, I +am one of those to whom the luxuries are essential. I +never could rub and scrub and work; in fact, I had +rather not live at all than live poor; and Harry is poor, +and he always will be poor. It’s a pity, too, poor fellow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +for he’s nice. Well, he is off in India! I know +he will be tragical and gloomy, and all that,” she said; +and then the soft child-face smiled to itself in the +glass,—such a pretty little innocent smile!</p> + +<p>All this while, John sat up with his heart beating +very fast, writing all about his engagement to his +sister, and, up to this point, his nearest, dearest, most +confidential friend. It is almost too bad to copy the +letter of a shy man who finds himself in love for the +first time in his life; but we venture to make an extract:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“It is not her beauty merely that drew me to her, +though she is the most beautiful human being I ever +saw: it is the exquisite feminine softness and delicacy +of her character, that sympathetic pliability by which +she adapts herself to every varying feeling of the heart. +You, my dear sister, are the noblest of women, and +your place in my heart is still what it always was; but +I feel that this dear little creature, while she fills a +place no other has ever entered, will yet be a new bond +to unite us. She will love us both; she will gradually +come into all our ways and opinions, and be insensibly +formed by us into a noble womanhood. Her extreme +beauty, and the great admiration that has always followed +her, have exposed her to many temptations, and +caused most ungenerous things to be said of her.</p> + +<p>“Hitherto she has lived only in the fashionable +world; and her literary and domestic education, as she +herself is sensible, has been somewhat neglected.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<p>“But she longs to retire from all this; she is sick of +fashionable folly, and will come to us to be all our +own. Gradually the charming circle of cultivated +families which form our society will elevate her taste, +and form her mind.</p> + +<p>“Love is woman’s inspiration, and love will lead her +to all that is noble and good. My dear sister, think +not that any new ties are going to make you any less +to me, or touch your place in my heart. I have already +spoken of you to Lillie, and she longs to know you. +You must be to her what you have always been to me,—guide, +philosopher, and friend.</p> + +<p>“I am sure I never felt better impulses, more humble, +more thankful, more religious, than I do now. That +the happiness of this soft, gentle, fragile creature is to +be henceforth in my hands is to me a solemn and inspiring +thought. What man is worthy of a refined, +delicate woman? I feel my unworthiness of her every +hour; but, so help me God, I shall try to be all to her +that a husband should; and you, my sister, I know, +will help me to make happy the future which she so +confidingly trusts to me.</p> + +<p>“Believe me, dear sister, I never was so much your +affectionate brother,</p> + +<p class='sig'> +“<span class="smcap">John Seymour</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>“P.S.—I forgot to tell you that Lillie remarkably +resembles the ivory miniature of our dear sainted +mother. She was very much affected when I told her +of it. I think naturally Lillie has very much such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +character as our mother; though circumstances, in +her case, have been unfavorable to the development +of it.”</p></blockquote> + +<p>Whether the charming vision was realized; whether +the little sovereign now enthroned will be a just and +clement one; what immunities and privileges she will +allow to her slaves,—is yet to be seen in this story.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER II.<br /> + +<i><small>WHAT SHE THINKS OF IT.</small></i></h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 212px;"> +<img src="images/i019.jpg" width="212" height="417" alt="woman reading card that came with bouquet" /> +<div class="caption">“From John, good fellow.”</div> +</div> + +<p class='drop-cap'>SPRINGDALE was +one of those beautiful +rural towns whose +flourishing aspect is a +striking exponent of the +peculiarities of New-England +life. The ride +through it presents a +refreshing picture of +wide, cool, grassy streets, +overhung with green +arches of elm, with rows +of large, handsome +houses on either side, +each standing back from +the street in its own retired +square of gardens, +green turf, shady trees, +and flowering shrubs. It +was, so to speak, a little +city of country-seats. It +spoke of wealth, thrift, leisure, cultivation, quiet, +thoughtful habits, and moral tastes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some of these mansions were of ancestral reputation, +and had been in the family whose name they bore for +generations back; a circumstance sometimes occurring +even in New-England towns where neither law nor +custom unites to perpetuate property in certain family +lines.</p> + +<p>The Seymour house was a well-known, respected +mansion for generations back. Old Judge Seymour, +the grandfather, was the lineal descendant of Parson +Seymour; the pastor who first came with the little +colony of Springdale, when it was founded as a church +in the wilderness, amid all the dangers of wild beasts +and Indians.</p> + +<p>This present Seymour mansion was founded on the +spot where the house of the first minister was built by +the active hands of his parishioners; and, from generation +to generation, order, piety, education, and high +respectability had been the tradition of the place.</p> + +<p>The reader will come in with us, on this bright June +morning, through the grassy front yard, which has +only the usual New-England fault of being too densely +shaded. The house we enter has a wide, cool hall running +through its centre and out into a back garden, +now all aglow with every beauty of June. The broad +alleys of the garden showed bright stores of all sorts +of good old-fashioned flowers, well tended and kept. +Clumps of stately hollyhocks and scarlet peonies; +roses of every hue, purple, blush, gold-color, and +white, were showering down their leaves on the grassy +turf; honeysuckles climbed and clambered over arbors;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +and great, stately tufts of virgin-white lilies exalted +their majestic heads in saintly magnificence. The +garden was Miss Grace Seymour’s delight and pride. +Every root in it was fragrant with the invisible blossoms +of memory,—memories of the mother who loved +and planted and watched them before her, and the +grandmother who had cared for them before that. +The spirit of these charming old-fashioned gardens is +the spirit of family love; and, if ever blessed souls +from their better home feel drawn back to any thing on +earth, we think it must be to their flower-garden.</p> + +<p>Miss Grace had been up early, and now, with her +garden hat on, and scissors in hand, was coming up the +steps with her white apron full of roses, white lilies, +meadow-sweets, and honeysuckle, for the parlor-vases, +when the servant handed her a letter.</p> + +<p>“From John,” she said, “good fellow;” and then she +laid it on the mantel-shelf of the parlor, while she +busied herself in arranging her flowers.</p> + +<p>“I must get these into water, or they will wilt,” she +said.</p> + +<p>The large parlor was like many that you and I have +seen in a certain respectable class of houses,—wide, +cool, shady, and with a mellow <i>old</i> tone to every thing +in its furniture and belongings. It was a parlor of the +past, and not of to-day, yet exquisitely neat and well-kept. +The Turkey carpet was faded: it had been part +of the wedding furnishing of Grace’s mother, years ago. +The great, wide, motherly, chintz-covered sofa, which +filled a recess commanding the window, was as different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +as possible from any smart modern article of the name. +The heavy, claw-footed, mahogany chairs; the tall +clock that ticked in one corner; the footstools and +ottomans in faded embroidery,—all spoke of days +past. So did the portraits on the wall. One was of a +fair, rosy young girl, in a white gown, with powdered +hair dressed high over a cushion. It was the portrait +of Grace’s mother. Another was that of a minister in +gown and bands, with black-silk gloved hands holding +up conspicuously a large Bible. This was the remote +ancestor, the minister. Then there was the picture of +John’s father, placed lovingly where the eyes seemed +always to be following the slight, white-robed figure of +the young wife. The walls were papered with an old-fashioned +paper of a peculiar pattern, bought in France +seventy-five years before. The vases of India-china +that adorned the mantels, the framed engravings of +architecture and pictures in Rome, all were memorials +of the taste of those long passed away. Yet the +room had a fresh, sweet, sociable air. The roses and +honeysuckles looked in at the windows; the table +covered with books and magazines, and the familiar +work-basket of Miss Grace, with its work, gave a sort +of impression of modern family household life. It +was a wide, open, hospitable, generous-minded room, +that seemed to breathe a fragrance of invitation and +general sociability; it was a room full of associations +and memories, and its daily arrangement and ornamentation +made one of the pleasant tasks of Miss +Grace’s life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>She spread down a newspaper on the large, square +centre-table, and, emptying her apronful of flowers +upon it, took her vases from the shelf, and with her +scissors sat down to the task of clipping and arranging +them.</p> + +<p>Just then Letitia Ferguson came across the garden, +and entered the back door after her, with a knot of +choice roses in her hand, and a plate of seed-cakes +covered with a hem-stitched napkin. The Fergusons +and the Seymours occupied adjoining houses, and were +on footing of the most perfect undress intimacy. They +crossed each other’s gardens, and came without knocking +into each other’s doors twenty times a day, <i>apropos</i> +to any bit of chit-chat that they might have, a question +to ask, a passage in a book to show, a household receipt +that they had been trying. Letitia was the most +intimate and confidential friend of Grace. In fact, the +whole Ferguson family seemed like another portion of +the Seymour family. There were two daughters, of +whom Letitia was the eldest. Then came the younger +Rose, a nice, charming, well-informed, good girl, always +cheerful and chatty, and with a decent share of ability +at talking lively nonsense. The brothers of the family, +like the young men of New-England country towns +generally, were off in the world seeking their fortunes. +Old Judge Ferguson was a gentleman of the old +school,—formal, stately, polite, always complimentary +to ladies, and with a pleasant little budget of old-gentlemanly +hobbies and prejudices, which it afforded +him the greatest pleasure to air in the society of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +friends. Old Mrs. Ferguson was a pattern of motherliness, +with her quaint, old-fashioned dress, her elaborate +caps, her daily and minute inquiries after the health of +all her acquaintances, and the tender pityingness of her +nature for every thing that lived and breathed in this +world of sin and sorrow.</p> + +<p>Letitia and Grace, as two older sisters of families, +had a peculiar intimacy, and discussed every thing together, +from the mode of clearing jelly up to the +profoundest problems of science and morals. They +were both charming, well-mannered, well-educated, +well-read women, and trusted each other to the uttermost +with every thought and feeling and purpose of +their hearts.</p> + +<p>As we have said, Letitia Ferguson came in at the +back door without knocking, and, coming softly behind +Miss Grace, laid down her bunch of roses among the +flowers, and then set down her plate of seed-cakes.</p> + +<p>Then she said, “I brought you some specimens of +my Souvenir de Malmaison bush, and my first trial of +your receipt.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thanks!” said Miss Grace: “how charming those +roses are! It was too bad to spoil your bush, though.”</p> + +<p>“No: it does it good to cut them; it will flower all +the more. But try one of those cakes,—are they +right?”</p> + +<p>“Excellent! you have hit it exactly,” said Grace; +“exactly the right proportion of seeds. I was hurrying,” +she added, “to get these flowers in water, because +a letter from John is waiting to be read.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + + +<p>“A letter! How nice!” said Miss Letitia, looking +towards the shelf. “John is as faithful in writing as if +he were your lover.”</p> + +<p>“He is the best lover a woman can have,” said Grace, +as she busily sorted and arranged the flowers. “For +my part, I ask nothing better than John.”</p> + +<p>“Let me arrange for you, while you read your letter,” +said Letitia, taking the flowers from her friend’s hands.</p> + +<p>Miss Grace took down the letter from the mantelpiece, +opened, and began to read it. Miss Letitia, +meanwhile, watched her face, as we often carelessly +watch the face of a person reading a letter.</p> + +<p>Miss Grace was not technically handsome, but she +had an interesting, kindly, sincere face; and her friend +saw gradually a dark cloud rising over it, as one +watches a shadow on a field.</p> + +<p>When she had finished the letter, with a sudden +movement she laid her head forward on the table +among the flowers, and covered her face with her +hands. She seemed not to remember that any one +was present.</p> + +<p>Letitia came up to her, and, laying her hand gently +on hers, said, “What is it, dear?”</p> + +<p>Miss Grace lifted her head, and said in a husky +voice,—</p> + +<p>“Nothing, only it is so sudden! John is engaged!”</p> + +<p>“Engaged! to whom?”</p> + +<p>“To Lillie Ellis.”</p> + +<p>“John engaged to Lillie Ellis?” said Miss Ferguson, +in a tone of shocked astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 293px;"> +<img src="images/i026.jpg" width="293" height="386" alt="young woman with head on table, another woman bending over her" /> +<div class="caption">“She laid her head forward on the table.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“So he writes me. He is completely infatuated by +her.”</p> + +<p>“How very sudden!” said Miss Letitia. “Who +could have expected it? Lillie Ellis is so entirely +out of the line of any of the women he has ever +known.”</p> + +<p>“That’s precisely what’s the matter,” said Miss +Grace. “John knows nothing of any but good, noble +women; and he thinks he sees all this in Lillie Ellis.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to her but her wonderful complexion,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +said Miss Ferguson, “and her pretty little coaxing +ways; but she is the most utterly selfish, heartless +little creature that ever breathed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>she</i> is to be John’s wife,” said Miss Grace, +sweeping the remainder of the flowers into her apron; +“and so ends my life with John. I might have known +it would come to this. I must make arrangements at +once for another house and home. This house, so +much, so dear to me, will be nothing to her; and yet +she must be its mistress,” she added, looking round on +every thing in the room, and then bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>Now, Miss Grace was not one of the crying sort, and +so this emotion went to her friend’s heart. Miss +Letitia went up and put her arms round her.</p> + +<p>“Come, Gracie,” she said, “you must not take it so +seriously. John is a noble, manly fellow. He loves +you, and he will always be master of his own house.”</p> + +<p>“No, he won’t,—no married man ever is,” said Miss +Grace, wiping her eyes, and sitting up very straight. +“No man, that is a gentleman, is ever master in his +own house. He has only such rights there as his wife +chooses to give him; and this woman won’t like me, +I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she will,” said Letitia, in a faltering voice.</p> + +<p>“No, she won’t; because I have no faculty for lying, +or playing the hypocrite in any way, and I shan’t approve +of her. These soft, slippery, pretty little fibbing +women have always been my abomination.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my <i>dear</i> Grace!” said Miss Ferguson, “do let +us make the best of it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I <i>did</i> think,” said Miss Grace, wiping her eyes, +“that John had some sense. I wasn’t such a fool, nor +so selfish, as to want him always to live for me. I +wanted him to marry; and if he had got engaged to +your Rose, for instance . . . O Letitia! I always did so +<i>hope</i> that he and Rose would like each other.”</p> + +<p>“We can’t choose for our brothers,” said Miss Letitia, +“and, hard as it is, we must make up our minds to love +those they bring to us. Who knows what good influences +may do for poor Lillie Ellis? She never has +had any yet. Her family are extremely common sort +of people, without any culture or breeding, and only +her wonderful beauty brought them into notice; and +they have always used that as a sort of stock in +trade.”</p> + +<p>“And John says, in this letter, that she reminds him +of our mother,” said Miss Grace; “and he thinks that +naturally she was very much such a character. Just +think of that, now!”</p> + +<p>“He must be far gone,” said Miss Ferguson; “but +then, you see, she is distractingly pretty. She has just +the most exquisitely pearly, pure, delicate, saint-like look, +at times, that you ever saw; and then she knows +exactly how she does look, and just how to use her +looks; and John can’t be blamed for believing in her. +I, who know all about her, am sometimes taken in by +her.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Miss Grace, “Mrs. Lennox was at Newport +last summer at the time that she was there, and she +told me all about her. I think her an artful, unscrupulous,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +unprincipled woman, and her being made mistress +of this house just breaks up our pleasant sociable life +here. She has no literary tastes; she does not care for +reading or study; she won’t like our set here, and she +will gradually drive them from the house. She won’t +like me, and she will want to alienate John from me,—so +there is just the situation.”</p> + +<p>“You may read that letter,” added Miss Grace, wiping +her eyes, and tossing her brother’s letter into Miss +Letitia’s lap. Miss Letitia took the letter and read it. +“Good fellow!” she exclaimed warmly, “you see just +what I say,—his heart is all with you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, John’s heart is all right enough!” said Miss +Grace; “and I don’t doubt his love. He’s the best, +noblest, most affectionate fellow in the world. I only +think he reckons without his host, in thinking he can +keep all our old relations unbroken, when he puts a new +mistress into the house, and such a mistress.”</p> + +<p>“But if she really loves him”—</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! she don’t. That kind of woman can’t love. +They are like cats, that want to be stroked and caressed, +and to be petted, and to lie soft and warm; and they +will purr to any one that will pet them,—that’s all. +As for love that leads to any self-sacrifice, they don’t +begin to know any thing about it.”</p> + +<p>“Gracie dear,” said Miss Ferguson, “this sort of +thing will never do. If you meet your brother in this +way, you will throw him off, and, maybe, make a fatal +breach. Meet it like a good Christian, as you are. +You know,” she said gently, “where we have a right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +to carry our troubles, and of whom we should ask +guidance.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do know, ’Titia!” said Miss Grace; “but I +am letting myself be wicked just a little, you know, to +relieve my mind. I ought to put myself to school to +make the best of it; but it came on me so <i>very</i> suddenly. +Yes,” she added, “I am going to take a course +of my Bible and Fénelon before I see John,—poor +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“And try to have faith for her,” said Miss Letitia.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll try to have faith,” said Miss Grace; “but +I do trust it will be some days before John comes down +on me with his raptures,—men in love are such fools.”</p> + +<p>“But, dear me!” said Miss Letitia, as her head +accidentally turned towards the window; “who is this +riding up? Gracie, as sure as you live, it is John +himself!”</p> + +<p>“John himself!” repeated Miss Grace, becoming +pale.</p> + +<p>“Now do, dear, be careful,” said Miss Letitia. “I’ll +just run out this back door and leave you alone;” +and just as Miss Letitia’s light heels were heard going +down the back steps, John’s heavy footsteps were coming +up the front ones.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER III.<br /> + +<small><i>THE SISTER.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>GRACE SEYMOUR was a specimen of a class of +whom we are happy to say New England possesses +a great many.</p> + +<p>She was a highly cultivated, intelligent, and refined +woman, arrived at the full age of mature womanhood +unmarried, and with no present thought or prospect of +marriage. I presume all my readers, who are in a position +to run over the society of our rural New-England +towns, can recall to their minds hundreds of such. +They are women too thoughtful, too conscientious, too +delicate, to marry for any thing but a purely personal +affection; and this affection, for various reasons, has not +fallen in their way.</p> + +<p>The tendency of life in these towns is to throw the +young men of the place into distant fields of adventure +and enterprise in the far Western and Southern States, +leaving at their old homes a population in which the +feminine element largely predominates. It is not, generally +speaking, the most cultivated or the most attractive +of the brethren who remain in the place where they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +were born. The ardent, the daring, the enterprising, +are off to the ends of the earth; and the choice of the +sisters who remain at home is, therefore, confined to a +restricted list; and so it ends in these delightful rose-gardens +of single women which abound in New England,—women +who remain at home as housekeepers to +aged parents, and charming persons in society; women +over whose graces of conversation and manner the +married men in their vicinity go off into raptures of +eulogium, which generally end with, “Why hasn’t that +woman ever got married?”</p> + +<p>It often happens to such women to expend on some +brother that stock of hero-worship and devotion which +it has not come in their way to give to a nearer friend. +Alas! it is building on a sandy foundation; for, just as +the union of hearts is complete, the chemical affinity +which began in the cradle, and strengthens with every +year of life, is dissolved by the introduction of that +third element which makes of the brother a husband, +while the new combination casts out the old,—sometimes +with a disagreeable effervescence.</p> + +<p>John and Grace Seymour were two only children of +a very affectionate family; and they had grown up in +the closest habits of intimacy. They had written to +each other those long letters in which thoughtful people +who live in retired situations delight; letters not of +outward events, but of sentiments and opinions, the +phases of the inner life. They had studied and pursued +courses of reading together. They had together organized +and carried on works of benevolence and charity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>The brother and sister had been left joint heirs of a +large manufacturing property, employing hundreds of +hands, in their vicinity; and the care and cultivation +of these work-people, the education of their children, +had been most conscientiously upon their minds. Half +of every Sunday they devoted together to labors in the +Sunday school of their manufacturing village; and the +two worked so harmoniously together in the interests of +their life, that Grace had never felt the want of any domestic +ties or relations other than those that she had.</p> + +<p>Our readers may perhaps, therefore, concede that, +among the many claimants for their sympathy in this +cross-grained world of ours, some few grains of it may +properly be due to Grace.</p> + +<p>Things are trials that try us: afflictions are what +afflict us; and, under this showing, Grace was both +tried and afflicted by the sudden engagement of her +brother. When the whole groundwork on which one’s +daily life is built caves in, and falls into the cellar without +one moment’s warning, it is not in human nature +to pick one’s self up, and reconstruct and rearrange in +a moment. So Grace thought, at any rate; but she +made a hurried effort to dash back her tears, and gulp +down a rising in her throat, anxious only not to be selfish, +and not to disgust her brother in the outset with +any personal egotism.</p> + +<p>So she ran to the front door to meet him, and fell +into his arms, trying so hard to seem congratulatory +and affectionate that she broke out into sobbing.</p> + +<p>“My dear Gracie,” said John, embracing and kissing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +her with that gushing fervor with which newly engaged +gentlemen are apt to deluge every creature whom they +meet, “you’ve got my letter. Well, were not you +astonished?”</p> + +<p>“O John, it was so sudden!” was all poor Grace +could say. “And you know, John, since mother died, +you and I have been all in all to each other.”</p> + +<p>“And so we shall be, Gracie. Why, yes, of course +we shall,” he said, stroking her hair, and playing with +her trembling, thin, white hands. “Why, this only +makes me love you the more now; and you will love +my little Lillie: fact is, you can’t help it. We shall +both of us be happier for having her here.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you know, John, I never saw her,” said Grace, +deprecatingly, “and so you can’t wonder.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, of course! Don’t wonder in the least. It +comes rather sudden,—and then you haven’t seen her. +Look, here is her photograph!” said John, producing +one from the most orthodox innermost region, directly +over his heart. “Look there! isn’t it beautiful?”</p> + +<p>“It is a very sweet face,” said Grace, exerting herself +to be sympathetic, and thankful that she could say +that much truthfully.</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine,” said John, “what ever made her +like me. You know she has refused half the fellows in +the country. I hadn’t the remotest idea that she would +have any thing to say to me; but you see there’s no +accounting for tastes;” and John plumed himself, as +young gentlemen do who have carried off prizes.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he added, “it’s odd, but she took a fancy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +to me the first time she saw me. Now, you know, +Gracie, I never found it easy to get along with ladies +at first; but Lillie has the most extraordinary way of +putting a fellow at his ease. Why, she made me feel +like an old friend the first hour.”</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/i035.jpg" width="280" height="337" alt="couple talking" /> +<div class="caption">“It <i>is</i> a very sweet face.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Indeed!”</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said John, triumphantly drawing out +his pocket-book, and producing thence a knot of rose-colored +satin ribbon. “Did you ever see such a lovely +color as this? It’s so exquisite, you see! Well, she +always is wearing just such knots of ribbon, the most +lovely shades. Why, there isn’t one woman in a thousand +could wear the things she does. Every thing becomes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +her. Sometimes it’s rose color, or lilac, or pale +blue,—just the most trying things to others are what +she can wear.”</p> + +<p>“Dear John, I hope you looked for something deeper +than the complexion in a wife,” said Grace, driven to +moral reflections in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course!” said John: “she has such soft, +gentle, winning ways; she is so sympathetic; she’s just +the wife to make home happy, to be a bond of union to +us all. Now, in a wife, what we want is just that. +Lillie’s mind, for instance, hasn’t been cultivated as +yours and Letitia’s. She isn’t at all that sort of girl. +She’s just a dear, gentle, little confiding creature, that +you’ll delight in. You’ll form her mind, and she’ll look +up to you. You know she’s young yet.”</p> + +<p>“Young, John! Why, she’s seven and twenty,” said +Grace, with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, my dear Gracie! that is all a mistake. She +told me herself she’s only twenty. You see, the trouble +is, she went into company injudiciously early, a mere +baby, in fact; and that causes her to have the name of +being older than she is. But, I do assure you, she’s +only twenty. She told me so herself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, indeed!” said Grace, prudently choking back +the contradiction which she longed to utter. “I know +it seems a good many summers since I heard of her as +a belle at Newport.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes, exactly! You see she went into company, +as a young lady, when she was only thirteen. She told +me all about it. Her parents were very injudicious, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +they pushed her forward. She regrets it now. She +knows that it wasn’t the thing at all. She’s very sensitive +to the defects in her early education; but I made +her understand that it was the <i>heart</i> more than the +head that I cared for. I dare say, Gracie, she’ll fall +into all our little ways without really knowing; and +you, in point of fact, will be mistress of the house as +much as you ever were. Lillie is delicate, and never +has had any care, and will be only too happy to depend +on you. She’s one of the gentle, dependent sort, you +know.”</p> + +<p>To this statement, Grace did not reply. She only +began nervously sweeping together the <i>débris</i> of leaves +and flowers which encumbered the table, on which the +newly arranged flower-vases were standing. Then she +arranged the vases with great precision on the mantel-shelf. +As she was doing it, so many memories rushed +over her of that room and her mother, and the happy, +peaceful family life that had hitherto been led there, +that she quite broke down; and, sitting down in the +chair, she covered her face, and went off in a good, +hearty crying spell.</p> + +<p>Poor John was inexpressibly shocked. He loved +and revered his sister beyond any thing in the world; +and it occurred to him, in a dim wise, that to be suddenly +dispossessed and shut out in the cold, when one +has hitherto been the first object of affection, is, to +make the best of it, a real and sore trial.</p> + +<p>But Grace soon recovered herself, and rose up smiling +through her tears. “What a fool I am making of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +myself!” she said. “The fact is, John, I am only a +little nervous. You mustn’t mind it. You know,” +she said, laughing, “we old maids are like cats,—we +find it hard to be put out of our old routine. I dare +say we shall all of us be happier in the end for this, +and I shall try to do all I can to make it so. Perhaps, +John, I’d better take that little house of mine on Elm +Street, and set up my tent in it, and take all the old +furniture and old pictures, and old-time things. You’ll +be wanting to modernize and make over this house, +you know, to suit a young wife.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Gracie; no such thing!” said John. +“Do you suppose I want to leave all the past associations +of my life, and strip my home bare of all pleasant +memorials, because I bring a little wife here? Why, +the very idea of a wife is somebody to sympathize in +your tastes; and Lillie will love and appreciate all +these dear old things as you and I do. She has such a +sympathetic heart! If you want to make me happy, +Gracie, stay here, and let us live, as near as may be, as +before.”</p> + +<p>“So we will, John,” said Grace, so cheerfully that +John considered the whole matter as settled, and rushed +upstairs to write his daily letter to Lillie.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br /> + +<small><i>PREPARATION FOR MARRIAGE.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MISS LILLIE ELLIS was sitting upstairs in her +virgin bower, which was now converted into a +tumultuous, seething caldron of millinery and mantua-making, +such as usually precedes a wedding. To be sure, +orders had been forthwith despatched to Paris for the +bridal regimentals, and for a good part of the <i>trousseau;</i> +but that did not seem in the least to stand in the way +of the time-honored confusion of sewing preparations +at home, which is supposed to waste the strength and +exhaust the health of every bride elect.</p> + +<p>Whether young women, while disengaged, do not +have proper under-clothing, or whether they contemplate +marriage as an awful gulf which swallows up all +future possibilities of replenishing a wardrobe,—certain +it is that no sooner is a girl engaged to be married +than there is a blind and distracting rush and +pressure and haste to make up for her immediately +a stock of articles, which, up to that hour, she has +managed to live very comfortably and respectably +without. It is astonishing to behold the number of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +inexpressible things with French names which unmarried +young ladies never think of wanting, but which +there is a desperate push to supply, and have ranged in +order, the moment the matrimonial state is in contemplation.</p> + +<p>Therefore it was that the virgin bower of Lillie +was knee-deep in a tangled mass of stuffs of various +hues and description; that the sharp sound of tearing +off breadths resounded there; that Miss Clippins and +Miss Snippings and Miss Nippins were sewing there +day and night; that a sewing-machine was busily rattling +in mamma’s room; and that there were all sorts of +pinking and quilling, and braiding and hemming, and +whipping and ruffling, and over-sewing and cat-stitching +and hem-stitching, and other female mysteries, +going on.</p> + +<p>As for Lillie, she lay in a loose <i>negligé</i> on the bed, +ready every five minutes to be called up to have something +measured, or tried on, or fitted; and to be consulted +whether there should be fifteen or sixteen tucks +and then an insertion, or sixteen tucks and a series of +puffs. Her labors wore upon her; and it was smilingly +observed by Miss Clippins across to Miss Nippins, that +Miss Lillie was beginning to show her “engagement +bones.” In the midst of these preoccupations, a letter +was handed to her by the giggling chambermaid. It +was a thick letter, directed in a bold honest hand. +Miss Lillie took it with a languid little yawn, finished +the last sentences in a chapter of the novel she was +reading, and then leisurely broke the seal and glanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +it over. It was the one that the enraptured John had +spent his morning in writing.</p> + +<p>“Miss Ellis, now, if you’ll try on this jacket—oh! I +beg your pardon,” said Miss Clippins, observing the +letter, “we can wait, <i>of course;</i>” and then all three +laughed as if something very pleasant was in their +minds.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Lillie, giving the letter a toss; “it’ll +<i>keep;</i>” and she stood up to have a jaunty little blue +jacket, with its pluffy bordering of swan’s down, fitted +upon her.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad, now, to take you from your letter,” +said Miss Clippins, with a sly nod.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you take it philosophically,” said Miss +Nippins, with a giggle.</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t I?” said the divine Lillie. “I get +one every day; and it’s all the old story. I’ve heard +it ever since I was born.”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, to be sure you have. Let’s see,” said +Miss Clippins, “this is the seventy-fourth or seventy-fifth +offer, was it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you must ask mamma! she keeps the lists: +I’m sure I don’t trouble my head,” said the little +beauty; and she looked so natty and jaunty when she +said it, just arching her queenly white neck, and making +soft, downy dimples in her cheeks as she gave her +fresh little childlike laugh; turning round and round +before the looking-glass, and issuing her orders for the +fitting of the jacket with a precision and real interest +which showed that there <i>were</i> things in the world which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +didn’t become old stories, even if one had been used to +them ever since one was born.</p> + +<p>Lillie never was caught napping when the point in +question was the fit of her clothes.</p> + +<p>When released from the little blue jacket, there was +a rose-colored morning-dress to be tried on, and a grave +discussion as to whether the honiton lace was to be set +on plain or frilled.</p> + +<p>So important was this case, that mamma was summoned +from the sewing-machine to give her opinion. +Mrs. Ellis was a fat, fair, rosy matron of most undisturbed +conscience and digestion, whose main business +in life had always been to see to her children’s clothes. +She had brought up Lillie with faithful and religious +zeal; that is to say, she had always ruffled her underclothes +with her own hands, and darned her stockings, +sick or well; and also, as before intimated, kept a list +of her offers, which she was ready in confidential moments +to tell off to any of her acquaintance. The +question of ruffled or plain honiton was of such vital +importance, that the whole four took some time in considering +it in its various points of view.</p> + +<p>“Sarah Selfridge had hers ruffled,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“And the effect was perfectly sweet,” said Miss Clippins.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, Lillie, you had better have it ruffled,” said +mamma.</p> + +<p>“But three rows laid on plain has such a lovely +effect,” said Miss Nippins.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, then, she had better have three rows laid +on plain,” said mamma.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Or she might have one row ruffled on the edge, +with three rows laid on plain, with a satin fold,” said +Miss Clippins. “That’s the way I fixed Miss Elliott’s.”</p> + +<p>“That would be a nice way,” said mamma. “Perhaps, +Lillie, you’d better have it so.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! come now, all of you, just hush,” said Lillie. +“I know just how I want it done.”</p> + +<p>The words may sound a little rude and dictatorial; +but Lillie had the advantage of always looking so +pretty, and saying dictatorial things in such a sweet +voice, that everybody was delighted with them; and +she took the matter of arranging the trimming in hand +with a clearness of head which showed that it was a +subject to which she had given mature consideration. +Mrs. Ellis shook her fat sides with a comfortable +motherly chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Lillie always did know exactly what she wanted: +she’s a smart little thing.”</p> + +<p>And, when all the trying on and arranging of folds +and frills and pinks and bows was over, Lillie threw +herself comfortably upon the bed, to finish her letter.</p> + +<p>Shrewd Miss Clippins detected the yawn with which +she laid down the missive.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me your letters don’t meet a very warm +reception,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Well! every day, and such long ones!” Lillie +answered, turning over the pages. “See there,” she +went on, opening a drawer, “What a heap of them! +I can’t see, for my part, what any one can want to write +a letter every day to anybody for. John is such a goose +about me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;"> +<img src="images/i044.jpg" width="406" height="322" alt="young girl on floor stretching" /> +<div class="caption">“Shrewd Miss Clippins detected the yawn.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“He’ll get over it after he’s been married six months,” +said Miss Clippins, nodding her head with the air of a +woman that has seen life.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I shan’t care,” said Lillie, with a toss of +her pretty head. “It’s <i>borous</i> any way.”</p> + +<p>Our readers may perhaps imagine, from the story +thus far, that our little Lillie is by no means the person, +in reality, that John supposes her to be, when he sits +thinking of her with such devotion, and writing her +such long, “borous” letters.</p> + +<p>She is not. John is in love not with the actual Lillie +Ellis, but with that ideal personage who looks like his +mother’s picture, and is the embodiment of all his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +mother’s virtues. The feeling, as it exists in John’s +mind, is not only a most respectable, but in fact a truly +divine one, and one that no mortal man ought to be +ashamed of. The love that quickens all the nature, that +makes a man twice manly, and makes him aspire to all +that is high, pure, sweet, and religious,—is a feeling so +sacred, that no unworthiness in its object can make it any +less beautiful. More often than not it is spent on an utter +vacancy. Men and women both pass through this +divine initiation,—this sacred inspiration of our nature,—and +find, when they have come into the innermost +shrine, where the divinity ought to be, that there +is no god or goddess there; nothing but the cold black +ashes of commonplace vulgarity and selfishness. Both +of them, when the grand discovery has been made, do +well to fold their robes decently about them, and make +the best of the matter. If they cannot love, they can at +least be friendly. They can tolerate, as philosophers; +pity, as Christians; and, finding just where and how the +burden of an ill-assorted union galls the least, can then +and there strap it on their backs, and walk on, not +only without complaint, but sometimes in a cheerful and +hilarious spirit.</p> + +<p>Not a word of all this thinks our friend John, as he +sits longing, aspiring, and pouring out his heart, day after +day, in letters that interrupt Lillie in the all-important +responsibility of getting her wardrobe fitted.</p> + +<p>Shall we think this smooth little fair-skinned Lillie is +a cold-hearted monster, because her heart does not beat +faster at these letters which she does not understand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +and which strike her as unnecessarily prolix and prosy? +Why should John insist on telling her his feelings and +opinions on a vast variety of subjects that she does +not care a button for? She doesn’t know any thing +about ritualism and anti-ritualism; and, what’s more, she +doesn’t care. She hates to hear so much about religion. +She thinks it’s pokey. John may go to any church he +pleases, for all her. As to all that about his favorite +poems, she don’t like poetry,—never could,—don’t see +any sense in it; and John <i>will</i> be quoting ever so much +in his letters. Then, as to the love parts,—it may be +all quite new and exciting to John; but she has, as she +said, heard that story over and over again, till it strikes +her as quite a matter of course. Without doubt the +whole world is a desert where she is not: the thing has +been asserted, over and over, by so many gentlemen of +credible character for truth and veracity, that she is +forced to believe it; and she cannot see why John is +particularly to be pitied on this account. He is in no +more desperate state about her than the rest of them; +and secretly Lillie has as little pity for lovers’ pangs as +a nice little white cat has for mice. They amuse her; +they are her appropriate recreation; and she pats and +plays with each mouse in succession, without any comprehension +that it may be a serious thing for him.</p> + +<p>When Lillie was a little girl, eight years old, she +used to sell her kisses through the slats of the fence for +papers of candy, and thus early acquired the idea that +her charms were a capital to be employed in trading for +the good things of life. She had the misfortune—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +a great one it is—to have been singularly beautiful +from the cradle, and so was praised and exclaimed over +and caressed as she walked through the streets. She +was sent for, far and near; borrowed to be looked at; +her picture taken by photographers. If one reflects how +many foolish and inconsiderate people there are in the +world, who have no scruple in making a pet and plaything +of a pretty child, one will see how this one unlucky +lot of being beautiful in childhood spoiled Lillie’s +chances of an average share of good sense and goodness. +The only hope for such a case lies in the chance +of possessing judicious parents. Lillie had not these. +Her father was a shrewd grocer, and nothing more; +and her mother was a competent cook and seamstress. +While he traded in sugar and salt, and she made pickles +and embroidered under-linen, the pretty Lillie was educated +as pleased Heaven.</p> + +<p>Pretty girls, unless they have wise mothers, are more +educated by the opposite sex than by their own. Put +them where you will, there is always some <i>man</i> busying +himself in their instruction; and the burden of +masculine teaching is generally about the same, and +might be stereotyped as follows: “You don’t need to +be or do any thing. Your business in life is to look +pretty, and amuse us. You don’t need to study: you +know all by nature that a woman need to know. You +are, by virtue of being a pretty woman, superior to any +thing we can teach you; and we wouldn’t, for the +world, have you any thing but what you are.” When +Lillie went to school, this was what her masters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +whispered in her ear as they did her sums for her, and +helped her through her lessons and exercises, and +looked into her eyes. This was what her young gentlemen +friends, themselves delving in Latin and Greek +and mathematics, told her, when they came to recreate +from their severer studies in her smile. Men are held +to account for talking sense. Pretty women are told +that lively nonsense is their best sense. Now and then, +an admirer bolder than the rest ventured to take Lillie’s +education more earnestly in hand, and recommended to +her just a little reading,—enough to enable her to +carry on conversation, and appear to know something +of the ordinary topics discussed in society,—but +informed her, by the by, that there was no sort of need +of being either profound or accurate in these matters, +as the mistakes of a pretty woman had a grace of their +own.</p> + +<p>At seventeen, Lillie graduated from Dr. Sibthorpe’s +school with a “finished education.” She had, somehow +or other, picked her way through various “ologies” and +exercises supposed to be necessary for a well-informed +young lady. She wrote a pretty hand, spoke French +with a good accent, and could turn a sentimental note +neatly; “and that, my dear,” said Dr. Sibthorpe to his +wife, “is all that a woman needs, who so evidently is +intended for wife and mother as our little Lillie.” Dr. +Sibthorpe, in fact, had amused himself with a semi-paternal +flirtation with his pupil during the whole +course of her school exercises, and parted from her +with tears in his eyes, greatly to her amusement; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +Lillie, after all, estimated his devotion at just about +what it was worth. It amused her to see him make a +fool of himself.</p> + +<p>Of course, the next thing was—to be married; and +Lillie’s life now became a round of dressing, dancing, +going to watering-places, travelling, and in other ways +seeking the fulfilment of her destiny.</p> + +<p>She had precisely the accessible, easy softness of +manner that leads every man to believe that he may +prove a favorite, and her run of offers became quite a +source of amusement. Her arrival at watering-places +was noted in initials in the papers; her dress on every +public occasion was described; and, as acknowledged +queen of love and beauty, she had everywhere her +little court of men and women flatterers. The women +flatterers around a belle are as much a part of the +<i>cortége</i> as the men. They repeat the compliments they +hear, and burn incense in the virgin’s bower at hours +when the profaner sex may not enter.</p> + +<p>The life of a petted creature consists essentially in +being deferred to, for being pretty and useless. A +petted child runs a great risk, if it is ever to outgrow +childhood; but a pet woman is a perpetual child. The +pet woman of society is everybody’s toy. Everybody +looks at her, admires her, praises and flatters her, stirs +her up to play off her little airs and graces for their +entertainment; and passes on. Men of profound sense +encourage her to chatter nonsense for their amusement, +just as we delight in the tottering steps and stammering +mispronunciations of a golden-haired child. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +Lillie has been in Washington, she has had judges of +the supreme court and secretaries of state delighted to +have her give her opinions in their respective departments. +Scholars and literary men flocked around her, +to the neglect of many a more instructed woman, +satisfied that she knew enough to blunder agreeably on +every subject.</p> + +<p>Nor is there any thing in the Christian civilization +of our present century that condemns the kind of life +we are describing, as in any respect unwomanly or unbecoming. +Something very like it is in a measure +considered as the appointed rule of attractive young +girls till they are married.</p> + +<p>Lillie had numbered among her admirers many lights +of the Church. She had flirted with bishops, priests, +and deacons,—who, none of them, would, for the +world, have been so ungallant as to quote to her such +dreadful professional passages as, “She that liveth in +pleasure is dead while she liveth.”</p> + +<p>In fact, the clergy, when off duty, are no safer guides +of attractive young women than other mortal men; +and Lillie had so often seen their spiritual attentions +degenerate into downright, temporal love-making, that +she held them in as small reverence as the rest of their +sex. Only one dreadful John the Baptist of her acquaintance, +one of the camel’s-hair-girdle and locust-and-wild-honey +species, once encountering Lillie at +Saratoga, and observing the ways and manners of the +court which she kept there, took it upon him to give +her a spiritual admonition.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Miss Lillie,” he said, “I see no chance for the salvation +of your soul, unless it should please God to send +the small-pox upon you. I think I shall pray for +that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, horrors! don’t! I’d rather never be saved,” +Lillie answered with a fervent sincerity.</p> + +<p>The story was repeated afterwards as an amusing +<i>bon mot</i>, and a specimen of the barbarity to which +religious fanaticism may lead; and yet we question +whether John the Baptist had not the right of it.</p> + +<p>For it must at once appear, that, had the small-pox +made the above-mentioned change in Lillie’s complexion +at sixteen, the entire course of her life would have +taken another turn. The whole world then would +have united in letting her know that she must live +to some useful purpose, or be nobody and nothing. +Schoolmasters would have scolded her if she idled over +her lessons; and her breaking down in arithmetic, and +mistakes in history, would no longer have been regarded +as interesting. Clergymen, consulted on her spiritual +state, would have told her freely that she was a miserable +sinner, who, except she repented, must likewise +perish. In short, all those bitter and wholesome truths, +which strengthen and invigorate the virtues of plain +people, might possibly have led her a long way on +towards saintship.</p> + +<p>As it was, little Lillie was confessedly no saint; and +yet, if much of a sinner, society has as much to answer +for as she. She was the daughter and flower of the +Christian civilization of the nineteenth century, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +the kind of woman, that, on the whole, men of quite +distinguished sense have been fond of choosing for +wives, and will go on seeking to the end of the chapter.</p> + +<p>Did she love John? Well, she was quite pleased to +be loved by him, and she liked the prospect of being +his wife. She was sure he would always let her have +her own way, and that he had a plenty of worldly +means to do it with.</p> + +<p>Lillie, if not very clever in a literary or scientific +point of view, was no fool. She had, in fact, under all +her softness of manner, a great deal of that real hard +grit which shrewd, worldly people call common sense. +She saw through all the illusions of fancy and feeling, +right to the tough material core of things. However +soft and tender and sentimental her habits of speech +and action were in her professional capacity of a charming +woman, still the fair Lillie, had she been a man, +would have been respected in the business world, as +one that had cut her eye-teeth, and knew on which side +her bread was buttered.</p> + +<p>A husband, she knew very well, was the man who +undertook to be responsible for his wife’s bills: he was +the giver, bringer, and maintainer of all sorts of solid +and appreciable comforts.</p> + +<p>Lillie’s bills had hitherto been sore places in the +domestic history of her family. The career of a fashionable +belle is not to be supported without something +of an outlay; and that innocence of arithmetical combinations, +over which she was wont to laugh bewitchingly +among her adorers, sometimes led to results quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +astounding to the prosaic, hard-working papa, who +stood financially responsible for all her finery.</p> + +<p>Mamma had often been called in to calm the tumult +of his feelings on such semi-annual developments; and +she did it by pointing out to him that this heavy present +expense was an investment by which Lillie was, +in the end, to make her own fortune and that of her +family.</p> + +<p>When Lillie contemplated the marriage-service with +a view to going through it with John, there was one +clause that stood out in consoling distinctness,—“<i>With +all my worldly goods I thee endow.</i>”</p> + +<p>As to the other clause, which contains the dreadful +word “obey,” about which our modern women have +such fearful apprehensions, Lillie was ready to swallow +it without even a grimace.</p> + +<p>“Obey John!” Her face wore a pretty air of droll +assurance at the thought. It was too funny.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said Belle Trevors, who was one of Lillie’s +incense-burners and a bridesmaid elect, “<i>have</i> you the +least idea how rich he is?”</p> + +<p>“He is well enough off to do about any thing I want,” +said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know he owns the whole village of Spindlewood, +with all those great factories, besides law business,” +said Belle. “But then they live in a dreadfully +slow, pokey way down there in Springdale. They +haven’t the remotest idea how to use money.”</p> + +<p>“I can show him how to use it,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“He and his sister keep a nice sort of old-fashioned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +place there, and jog about in an old countrified carriage, +picking up poor children and visiting schools. She is +a <i>very</i> superior woman, that sister.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like superior women,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“But you must like her, you know. John is perfectly +devoted to her, and I suppose she is to be a fixture +in the establishment.”</p> + +<p>“We shall see about that,” said Lillie. “One thing +at a time. I don’t mean he shall live at Springdale. +It’s horridly pokey to live in those little country towns. +He must have a house in New York.”</p> + +<p>“And a place at Newport for the summer,” said Belle +Trevors.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Lillie, “a cottage in Newport does very +well in the season; and then a country place well +fitted up to invite company to in the other months of +summer.”</p> + +<p>“Delightful,” said Belle, “<i>if</i> you can make him do +it.”</p> + +<p>“See if I don’t,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“You dear, funny creature, you,—how you do +always ride on the top of the wave!” said Belle.</p> + +<p>“It’s what I was born for,” said Lillie. “By the by, +Belle, I got a letter from Harry last night.”</p> + +<p>“Poor fellow, had he heard”—</p> + +<p>“Why, of course not. I didn’t want he should till +it’s all over. It’s best, you know.”</p> + +<p>“He is such a good fellow, and so devoted,—it does +seem a pity.”</p> + +<p>“Devoted! well, I should rather think he was,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +Lillie. “I believe he would cut off his right hand for +me, any day. But I never gave him any encouragement. +I’ve always told him I could be to him only as +a sister, you know.”</p> + +<p>“You ought not to write to him,” said Belle.</p> + +<p>“What can I do? He is perfectly desperate if I +don’t, and still persists that he means to marry me +some day, spite of my screams.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’ll have to stop making love to you after +you’re married.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw! I don’t believe that old-fashioned talk. +Lovers make a variety in life. I don’t see why a married +woman is to give up all the fun of having admirers. +Of course, one isn’t going to do any thing wrong, you +know; but one doesn’t want to settle down into Darby +and Joan at once. Why, some of the young married +women, the most stunning belles at Newport last year, +got a great deal more attention after they were married +than they did before. You see the fellows like it, +because they are so sure not to be drawn in.”</p> + +<p>“I think it’s too bad on us girls, though,” said Belle. +“You ought to leave us our turn.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I’ll turn over any of them to you, Belle,” said +Lillie. “There’s Harry, to begin with. What do you +say to him?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I don’t think I shall take up with +second-hand articles,” said Belle, with some spirit.</p> + +<p>But here the entrance of the chamber-maid, with a +fresh dress from the dressmaker’s, resolved the conversation +into a discussion so very minute and technical +that it cannot be recorded in our pages.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER V.<br /> + +<small><i>WEDDING, AND WEDDING-TRIP.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>WELL, and so they were married, with all the +newest modern forms, ceremonies, and accessories.</p> + +<p>Every possible thing was done to reflect lustre on +the occasion. There were eight bridesmaids, and every +one of them fair as the moon; and eight groomsmen, +with white-satin ribbons and white rosebuds in their +button-holes; and there was a bishop, assisted by a +priest, to give the solemn benedictions of the church; +and there was a marriage-bell of tuberoses and lilies, +of enormous size, swinging over the heads of the pair +at the altar; and there were voluntaries on the organ, +and chantings, and what not, all solemn and impressive +as possible. In the midst of all this, the fair Lillie +promised, “forsaking all others, to keep only unto him, +so long as they both should live,”—“to love, honor, +and obey, until death did them part.”</p> + +<p>During the whole agitating scene, Lillie kept up her +presence of mind, and was perfectly aware of what she +was about; so that a very fresh, original, and crisp +style of trimming, that had been invented in Paris<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +specially for her wedding toilet, received no detriment +from the least unguarded movement. We much regret +that it is contrary to our literary principles to write +half, or one third, in French; because the wedding-dress, +by far the most important object on this occasion, +and certainly one that most engrossed the thoughts +of the bride, was one entirely indescribable in English. +Just as there is no word in the Hottentot vocabulary +for “holiness,” or “purity,” so there are no words in +our savage English to describe a lady’s dress; and, +therefore, our fair friends must be recommended, on +this point, to exercise their imagination in connection +with the study of the finest French plates, and they +may get some idea of Lillie in her wedding robe and +train.</p> + +<p>Then there was the wedding banquet, where everybody +ate quantities of the most fashionable, indigestible +horrors, with praiseworthy courage and enthusiasm; for +what is to become of “<i>paté de fois gras</i>” if we don’t +eat it? What is to become of us if we do is entirely a +secondary question.</p> + +<p>On the whole, there was not one jot nor tittle of the +most exorbitant requirements of fashion that was not +fulfilled on this occasion. The house was a crush of +wilting flowers, and smelt of tuberoses enough to give +one a vertigo for a month. A band of music brayed +and clashed every minute of the time; and a jam of +people, in elegant dresses, shrieked to each other above +the din, and several of Lillie’s former admirers got tipsy +in the supper-room. In short, nothing could be finer;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +and it was agreed, on all hands, that it was “stunning.” +Accounts of it, and of all the bride’s dresses, presents, +and even wardrobe, went into the daily papers; and +thus was the charming Lillie Ellis made into Mrs. John +Seymour.</p> + +<p>Then followed the approved wedding journey, the +programme of which had been drawn up by Lillie herself, +with <i>carte blanche</i> from John, and included every +place where a bride’s new toilets could be seen in +the most select fashionable circles. They went to +Niagara and Trenton, they went to Newport and Saratoga, +to the White Mountains and Montreal; and Mrs. +John Seymour was a meteor of fashionable wonder +and delight at all these places. Her dresses and her +diamonds, her hats and her bonnets, were all wonderful +to behold. The stir and excitement that she had +created as simple Miss Ellis was nothing to the stir +and excitement about Mrs. John Seymour. It was the +mere grub compared with the full-blown butterfly,—the +bud compared with the rose. Wherever she appeared, +her old admirers flocked in her train. The +unmarried girls were, so to speak, nowhere. Marriage +was a new lease of power and splendor, and she revelled +in it like a humming-bird in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>And was John equally happy? Well, to say the +truth, John’s head was a little turned by the possession +of this curious and manifold creature, that fluttered +and flapped her wings about the eyes and ears of his +understanding, and appeared before him every day in +some new device of the toilet, fair and fresh; smiling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +and bewitching, kissing and coaxing, laughing and crying, +and in all ways bewildering him, the once sober-minded +John, till he scarce knew whether he stood on +his head or his heels. He knew that this sort of rattling, +scatter-brained life must come to an end some +time. He knew there was a sober, serious life-work +for him; something that must try his mind and soul +and strength, and that would, by and by, leave him +neither time nor strength to be the mere wandering +<i>attaché</i> of a gay bird, whose string he held in hand, +and who now seemed to pull him hither and thither at +her will.</p> + +<p>John thought of all these things at intervals; and +then, when he thought of the quiet, sober, respectable +life at Springdale, of the good old staple families, with +their steady ways,—of the girls in his neighborhood +with their reading societies, their sewing-circles for the +poor, their book-clubs and art-unions for practice in +various accomplishments,—he thought, with apprehension, +that there appeared not a spark of interest in +his charmer’s mind for any thing in this direction. She +never had read any thing,—knew nothing on all those +subjects about which the women and young girls in his +circle were interested; while, in Springdale, there were +none of the excitements which made her interested in +life. He could not help perceiving that Lillie’s five +hundred particular friends were mostly of the other sex, +and wondering whether he alone, when the matter +should be reduced to that, could make up to her for all +her retinue of slaves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Like most good boys who grow into good men, John +had unlimited faith in women. Whatever little defects +and flaws they might have, still at heart he supposed +they were all of the same substratum as his +mother and sister. The moment a woman was married, +he imagined that all the lovely domestic graces +would spring up in her, no matter what might have +been her previous disadvantages, merely because she +was a woman. He had no doubt of the usual orthodox +oak-and-ivy theory in relation to man and woman; and +that his wife, when he got one, would be the clinging +ivy that would bend her flexible tendrils in the way his +strong will and wisdom directed. He had never, perhaps, +seen, in southern regions, a fine tree completely +smothered and killed in the embraces of a gay, flaunting +parasite; and so received no warning from vegetable +analogies.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other, he was persuaded, he should +gradually bring his wife to all his own ways of thinking, +and all his schemes and plans and opinions. This +might, he thought, be difficult, were she one of the +pronounced, strong-minded sort, accustomed to thinking +and judging for herself. Such a one, he could +easily imagine, there might be a risk in encountering in +the close intimacy of domestic life. Even in his dealings +with his sister, he was made aware of a force of +character and a vigor of intellect that sometimes made +the carrying of his own way over hers a matter of some +difficulty. Were it not that Grace was the best of +women, and her ways always the very best of ways,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +John was not so sure but that she might prove a little +too masterful for him.</p> + +<p>But this lovely bit of pink and white; this downy, +gauzy, airy little elf; this creature, so slim and slender +and unsubstantial,—surely he need have no fear that +he could not mould and control and manage her? Oh, +no! He imagined her melting, like a moon-beam, into +all manner of sweet compliances, becoming an image +and reflection of his own better self; and repeated to +himself the lines of Wordsworth,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">“I saw her, on a nearer view,</div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A spirit, yet a woman too,—</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Her household motions light and free,</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And steps of virgin liberty.</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A creature not too bright or good</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For human nature’s daily food,</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For transient pleasures, simple wiles,</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.”</span></div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>John fancied he saw his little Lillie subdued into a +pattern wife, weaned from fashionable follies, eagerly +seeking mental improvement under his guidance, and +joining him and Grace in all sorts of edifying works +and ways.</p> + +<p>The reader may see, from the conversations we have +detailed, that nothing was farther from Lillie’s intentions +than any such conformity.</p> + +<p>The intentions of the married pair, in fact, ran +exactly contrary to one another. John meant to bring +Lillie to a sober, rational, useful family life; and Lillie +meant to run a career of fashionable display, and make +John pay for it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Neither, at present, stated their purposes precisely +to the other, because they were “honey-mooning.” +John, as yet, was the enraptured lover; and Lillie was +his pink and white sultana,—his absolute mistress, +her word was law, and his will was hers. How the +case was ever to be reversed, so as to suit the terms of +the marriage service, John did not precisely inquire.</p> + +<p>But, when husband and wife start in life with exactly +opposing intentions, which, think you, is likely to conquer,—the +man, or the woman? That is a very nice +question, and deserves further consideration.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br /> + +<small><i>HONEY-MOON, AND AFTER.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>WE left Mr. and Mrs. John Seymour honey-mooning. +The honey-moon, dear ladies, is supposed +to be the period of male subjection. The young queen +is enthroned; and the first of her slaves walks obediently +in her train, carries her fan, her parasol, runs of +her errands, packs her trunk, writes her letters, buys +her any thing she cries for, and is ready to do the +impossible for her, on every suitable occasion.</p> + +<p>A great strong man sometimes feels awkwardly, when +thus led captive; but the greatest, strongest, and most +boastful, often go most obediently under woman-rule; +for which, see Shakspeare, concerning Cleopatra and +Julius Cæsar and Mark Antony.</p> + +<p>But then all kingdoms, and all sway, and all authority +must come to an end. Nothing lasts, you see. +The plain prose of life must have its turn, after the +poetry and honey-moons—stretch them out to their +utmost limit—have their terminus.</p> + +<p>So, at the end of six weeks, John and Lillie, somewhat +dusty and travel-worn, were received by Grace +into the old family-mansion at Springdale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grace had read her Bible and Fénelon to such purpose, +that she had accepted her cross with open arms.</p> + +<p>Dear reader, Grace was not a severe, angular, old-maid +sister, ready to snarl at the advent of a young +beauty; but an elegant and accomplished woman, with +a wide culture, a trained and disciplined mind, a charming +taste, and polished manners; and, above all, a +thorough self-understanding and discipline. Though +past thirty, she still had admirers and lovers; yet, till +now, her brother, insensibly to herself, had blocked up +the doorway of her heart; and the perfectness of the +fraternal friendship had prevented the wish and the +longing by which some fortunate man might have found +and given happiness.</p> + +<p>Grace had resolved she would love her new sister; +that she would look upon all her past faults and errors +with eyes of indulgence; that she would put out of her +head every story she ever had heard against her, and +unite with her brother to make her lot a happy one.</p> + +<p>“John is so good a man,” she said to Miss Letitia +Ferguson, “that I am sure Lillie cannot but become a +good woman.”</p> + +<p>So Grace adorned the wedding with her presence, in +an elegant Parisian dress, ordered for the occasion, and +presented the young bride with a set of pearl and +amethyst that were perfectly bewitching, and kisses +and notes of affection had been exchanged between +them; and during various intervals, and for weeks past, +Grace had been pleasantly employed in preparing the +family-mansion to receive the new mistress.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>John’s bachelor apartments had been new furnished, +and furbished, and made into a perfect bower of roses.</p> + +<p>The rest of the house, after the usual household process +of purification, had been rearranged, as John and +his sister had always kept it since their mother’s death +in the way that she loved to see it. There was something +quaint and sweet and antique about it, that suited +Grace. Its unfashionable difference from the smart, flippant, +stereotyped rooms of to-day had a charm in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>Lillie, however, surveyed the scene, the first night +that she took possession, with a quiet determination to +re-modernize on the very earliest opportunity. What +would Mrs. Frippit and Mrs. Nippit say to such rooms, +she thought. But then there was time enough to +attend to that. Not a shade of these internal reflections +was visible in her manner. She said, “Oh, +how sweet! How perfectly charming! How splendid!” +in all proper places; and John was delighted.</p> + +<p>She also fell into the arms of Grace, and kissed her +with effusion; and John saw the sisterly union, which +he had anticipated, auspiciously commencing.</p> + +<p>The only trouble in Grace’s mind was from a terrible +sort of clairvoyance that seems to beset very sincere +people, and makes them sensitive to the presence of +any thing unreal or untrue. Fair and soft and caressing +as the new sister was, and determined as Grace +was to believe in her, and trust her, and like her,—she +found an invisible, chilly barrier between her heart and +Lillie. She scolded herself, and, in the effort to confide,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +became unnaturally demonstrative, and said and did +more than was her wont to show affection; and yet, +to her own mortification, she found herself, after all, +seeming to herself to be hypocritical, and professing +more than she felt.</p> + +<p>As to the fair Lillie, who, as we have remarked, was +no fool, she took the measure of her new sister with +that instinctive knowledge of character which is the +essence of womanhood. Lillie was not in love with +John, because that was an experience she was not capable +of. But she had married him, and now considered +him as her property, her subject,—<i>hers</i>, with an intensity +of ownership that should shut out all former proprietors.</p> + +<p>We have heard much talk, of late, concerning the +husband’s ownership of the wife. But, dear ladies, is that +any more pronounced a fact than every wife’s ownership +of her husband?—an ownership so intense and pervading +that it may be said to be the controlling nerve of +womanhood. Let any one touch your right to the first +place in your husband’s regard, and see!</p> + +<p>Well, then, Lillie saw at a glance just what Grace +was, and what her influence with her brother must be; +and also that, in order to live the life she meditated, +John must act under her sway, and not under his +sister’s; and so the resolve had gone forth, in her +mind, that Grace’s dominion in the family should come +to an end, and that she would, as sole empress, reconstruct +the state. But, of course, she was too wise to +say a word about it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Dear me!” she said, the next morning, when Grace +proposed showing her through the house and delivering +up the keys, “I’m sure I don’t see why you want to show +things to me. I’m nothing of a housekeeper, you know: +all I know is what I want, and I’ve always had what I +wanted, you know; but, you see, I haven’t the least +idea how it’s to be done. Why, at home I’ve been +everybody’s baby. Mamma laughs at the idea of my +knowing any thing. So, Grace dear, you must just be +prime minister; and I’ll be the good-for-nothing Queen, +and just sign the papers, and all that, you know.”</p> + +<p>Grace found, the first week, that to be housekeeper +to a young duchess, in an American village and with +American servants, was no sinecure.</p> + +<p>The young mistress, the next week, tumbled into the +wash an amount of muslin and lace and French puffing +and fluting sufficient to employ two artists for two or +three days, and by which honest Bridget, as she stood +at her family wash-tub, was sorely perplexed.</p> + +<p>But, in America, no woman ever dies for want of +speaking her mind; and the lower orders have their turn +in teaching the catechism to their superiors, which they +do with an effectiveness that does credit to democracy.</p> + +<p>“And would ye be plased to step here, Miss Saymour,” +said Bridget to Grace, in a voice of suppressed +emotion, and pointing oratorically, with her soapy right +arm, to a snow-wreath of French finery and puffing on +the floor. “What I asks, Miss Grace, is, <i>Who</i> is to do +all this? I’m sure it would take me and Katy a week, +workin’ day and night, let alone the cookin’ and the silver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +and the beds, and all them. It’s a pity, now, somebody +shouldn’t spake to that young crather; fur she’s nothin’ +but a baby, and likely don’t know any thing, as ladies +mostly don’t, about what’s right and proper.” Bridget’s +Christian charity and condescension in this last sentence +was some mitigation of the crisis; but still Grace +was appalled. We all of us, my dear sisters, have stood +appalled at the tribunal of good Bridgets rising in their +majesty and declaring their ultimatum.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 367px;"> +<img src="images/i068.jpg" width="367" height="410" alt="Two women talking" /> +<div class="caption">“<i>Who</i> is to do all this?”</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bridget was a treasure in the town of Springdale, +where servants were scarce and poor; and, what was +more, she was a treasure that knew her own worth. +Grace knew very well how she had been beset with applications +and offers of higher wages to draw her to various +hotels and boarding-houses in the vicinity, but had +preferred the comparative dignity and tranquillity of a +private gentleman’s family.</p> + +<p>But the family had been small, orderly, and systematic, +and Grace the most considerate of housekeepers. +Still it was not to be denied, that, though an indulgent +and considerate mistress, Bridget was, in fact, mistress +of the Seymour mansion, and that her mind and will +concerning the washing must be made known to the +young queen.</p> + +<p>It was a sore trial to speak to Lillie; but it would be +sorer to be left at once desolate in the kitchen department, +and exposed to the marauding inroads of unskilled +Hibernians.</p> + +<p>In the most delicate way, Grace made Lillie acquainted +with the domestic crisis; as, in old times, a +prime minister might have carried to one of the +Charleses the remonstrance and protest of the House +of Commons.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I’m sure I don’t know how it’s to be done,” +said Lillie, gayly. “Mamma always got my things done +<i>somehow</i>. They always <i>were</i> done, and always must +be: you just tell her so. I think it’s always best to +be decided with servants. Face ’em down in the beginning.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But you see, Lillie dear, it’s almost impossible to <i>get</i> +servants at all in Springdale; and such servants as ours +everybody says are an exception. If we talk to Bridget +in that way, she’ll just go off and leave us; and then +what shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“What in the world does John want to live in such +a place for?” said Lillie, peevishly. “There are plenty +of servants to be got in New York; and that’s the only +place fit to live in. Well, it’s no affair of mine! Tell +John he married me, and must take care of me. He +must settle it some way: I shan’t trouble my head +about it.”</p> + +<p>The idea of living in New York, and uprooting the +old time-honored establishment in Springdale, struck +Grace as a sort of sacrilege; yet she could not help +feeling, with a kind of fear, that the young mistress had +power to do it.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, darling, talk so, for pity’s sake,” she said. +“I will go to John, and we will arrange it somehow.”</p> + +<p>A long consultation with faithful John, in the evening, +revealed to him the perplexing nature of the material +processes necessary to get up his fair puff of thistledown +in all that wonderful whiteness and fancifulness +of costume which had so entranced him.</p> + +<p>Lillie cried, and said she never had any trouble before +about “getting her things done.” She was sure mamma +or Trixie or somebody did them, or got them done,—she +never knew how or when. With many tears and +sobs, she protested her ardent desire to realize the +Scriptural idea of the fowls of the air and the lilies of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +the field, which were fed and clothed, “like Solomon in +all his glory,” without ever giving a moment’s care to +the matter.</p> + +<p>John kissed and embraced, and wiped away her tears, +and declared she should have every thing just as she +desired it, if it took the half of his kingdom.</p> + +<p>After consoling his fair one, he burst into Grace’s +room in the evening, just at the hour when they used to +have their old brotherly and sisterly confidential talks.</p> + +<p>“You see, Grace,—poor Lillie, dear little thing,—you +don’t know how distressed she is; and, Grace, we +must find somebody to do up all her fol-de-rols and fizgigs +for her, you know. You see, she’s been <i>used</i> to +this kind of thing; can’t do without it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll try to-morrow, John,” said Grace, patiently. +“There is Mrs. Atkins,—she is a very nice woman.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, exactly! just the thing,” said John. “Yes, +we’ll get her to take all Lillie’s things every week. +That settles it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know, John, at the prices that Mrs. Atkins +asks, you will have to pay more than for all your family +service together? What we have this week would be +twenty dollars, at the least computation; and it is +worth it too,—the work of getting up is so elaborate.”</p> + +<p>John opened his eyes, and looked grave. Like all +stable New-England families, the Seymours, while they +practised the broadest liberality, had instincts of great +sobriety in expense. Needless profusion shocked them +as out of taste; and a quiet and decent reticence in +matters of self-indulgence was habitual with them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such a price for the fine linen of his little angel +rather staggered him; but he gulped it down.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Gracie,” he said, “cost what it may, she +must have it as she likes it. The little creature, you +see, has never been accustomed to calculate or reflect in +these matters; and it is trial enough to come down +to our stupid way of living,—so different, you know, +from the gay life she has been leading.”</p> + +<p>Miss Seymour’s saintship was somewhat rudely tested +by this remark. That anybody should think it a sacrifice +to be John’s wife, and a trial to accept the homestead +at Springdale, with all its tranquillity and comforts,—that +John, under her influence, should speak of the +Springdale life as <i>stupid</i>,—was a little drop too much +in her cup. A bright streak appeared in either cheek, as +she said,—</p> + +<p>“Well, John, I never knew you found Springdale +stupid before. I’m sure, we <i>have</i> been happy here,”—and +her voice quavered.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw, Gracie! you know what I mean. I don’t +mean that <i>I</i> find it stupid. I don’t like the kind of rattle-brained +life we’ve been leading this six weeks. But, +then, it just suits Lillie; and it’s so sweet and patient +of her to come here and give it all up, and say not +a word of regret; and then, you see, I shall be just up +to my ears in business now, and can’t give up all my +time to her, as I have. There’s ever so much law +business coming on, and all the factory matters at +Spindlewood; and I can see that Lillie will have rather +a hard time of it. You must devote yourself to her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +Gracie, like a dear, good soul, as you always were, and +try to get her interested in our kind of life. Of course, +all our set will call, and that will be something; and +then—there will be some invitations out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, John! we’ll manage it,” said Grace, who +had by this time swallowed her anger, and shouldered +her cross once more with a womanly perseverance. +“Oh, yes! the Fergusons, and the Wilcoxes, and the +Lennoxes, will all call; and we shall have picnics, and +lawn teas, and musicals, and parties.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, I see,” said John. “Gracie, <i>isn’t</i> she a +dear little thing? Didn’t she look cunning in that +white wrapper this morning? How do women do +those things, I wonder?” said John. “Don’t you +think her manners are lovely?”</p> + +<p>“They are very sweet, and she is charmingly pretty,” +said Grace; “and I love her dearly.”</p> + +<p>“And so affectionate! Don’t you think so?” continued +John. “She’s a person that you can do any thing +with through her heart. She’s all heart, and very little +head. I ought not to say that, either. I think she has +fair natural abilities, had they ever been cultivated.”</p> + +<p>“My dear John,” said Grace, “you forget what time +it is. Good-night!”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br /> + +<small><i>WILL SHE LIKE IT?</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“JOHN,” said Grace, “when are you going out again +to our Sunday school at Spindlewood? They are +all asking after you. Do you know it is now two +months since they have seen you?”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said John. “I am going to-morrow. +You see, Gracie, I couldn’t well before.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I have told them all about it, and I have kept +things up; but then there are so many who want to +see <i>you</i>, and so many things that you alone could +settle and manage.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! I’ll go to-morrow,” said John. “And, +after this, I shall be steady at it. I wonder if we +could get Lillie to go,” said he, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Grace did not answer. Lillie was a subject on which +it was always embarrassing to her to be appealed to. +She was so afraid of appearing jealous or unappreciative; +and her opinions were so different from those of +her brother, that it was rather difficult to say any +thing.</p> + +<p>“Do you think she would like it, Grace?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, John, you must know better than I. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +anybody could make her take an interest in it, it would +be you.”</p> + +<p>Before his marriage, John had always had the idea +that pretty, affectionate little women were religious and +self-denying at heart, as matters of course. No matter +through what labyrinths of fashionable follies and dissipation +they had been wandering, still a talent for +saintship was lying dormant in their natures, which it +needed only the touch of love to develop. The wings +of the angel were always concealed under the fashionable +attire of the belle, and would unfold themselves +when the hour came. A nearer acquaintance with +Lillie, he was forced to confess, had not, so far, confirmed +this idea. Though hers was a face so fair and pure +that, when he first knew her, it suggested ideas of +prayer, and communion with angels, yet he could not +disguise from himself that, in all near acquaintance +with her, she had proved to be most remarkably “of +the earth, earthy.” She was alive and fervent about +fashionable gossip,—of who is who, and what does +what; she was alive to equipages, to dress, to sightseeing, +to dancing, to any thing of which the whole +stimulus and excitement was earthly and physical. At +times, too, he remembered that she had talked a sort +of pensive sentimentalism, of a slightly religious nature; +but the least idea of a moral purpose in life—of self-denial, +and devotion to something higher than immediate +self-gratification—seemed never to have entered +her head. What is more, John had found his attempts +to introduce such topics with her always unsuccessful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Lillie either gaped in his face, and asked him what time +it was; or playfully pulled his whiskers, and asked him +why he didn’t take to the ministry; or adroitly turned +the conversation with kissing and compliments.</p> + +<p>Sunday morning came, shining down gloriously +through the dewy elm-arches of Springdale. The green +turf on either side of the wide streets was mottled and +flecked with vivid flashes and glimmers of emerald, like +the sheen of a changeable silk, as here and there long +arrows of sunlight darted down through the leaves +and touched the ground.</p> + +<p>The gardens between the great shady houses that +flanked the street were full of tall white and crimson +phloxes in all the majesty of their summer bloom, and +the air was filled with fragrance; and Lillie, after a +two hours’ toilet, came forth from her chamber fresh +and lovely as the bride in the Canticles. “Thou art all +fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.” She was killingly +dressed in the rural-simplicity style. All her robes +and sashes were of purest white; and a knot of field-daisies +and grasses, with French dew-drops on them, +twinkled in an infinitesimal bonnet on her little head, +and her hair was all <i>créped</i> into a filmy golden aureole +round her face. In short, dear reader, she was a perfectly +got-up angel, and wanted only some tulle clouds +and an opening heaven to have gone up at once, as +similar angels do from the Parisian stage.</p> + +<p>“You like me, don’t you?” she said, as she saw the +delight in John’s eyes.</p> + +<p>John was tempted to lay hold of his plaything.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t, now,—you’ll crumple me,” she said, fighting +him off with a dainty parasol. “Positively you +shan’t touch me till after church.”</p> + +<p>John laid the little white hand on his arm with pride, +and looked down at her over his shoulder all the way +to church. He felt proud of her. They would look at +her, and see how pretty she was, he thought. And so +they did. Lillie had been used to admiration in church. +It was one of her fields of triumph. She had received +compliments on her toilet even from young clergymen, +who, in the course of their preaching and praying, found +leisure to observe the beauties of nature and grace in +their congregation. She had been quite used to knowing +of young men who got good seats in church simply +for the purpose of seeing her; consequently, going to +church had not the moral advantages for her that it has +for people who go simply to pray and be instructed. +John saw the turning of heads, and the little movements +and whispers of admiration; and his heart was +glad within him. The thought of her mingled with +prayer and hymn; even when he closed his eyes, and +bowed his head, she was there.</p> + +<p>Perhaps this was not exactly as it should be; yet let +us hope the angels look tenderly down on the sins of +too much love. John felt as if he would be glad of a +chance to die for her; and, when he thought of her in +his prayers, it was because he loved her better than +himself.</p> + +<p>As to Lillie, there was an extraordinary sympathy of +sentiment between them at that moment. John was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +thinking only of her; and she was thinking only of herself, +as was her usual habit,—herself, the one object of +her life, the one idol of her love.</p> + +<p>Not that she knew, in so many words, that she, the +little, frail bit of dust and ashes that she was, was her +own idol, and that she appeared before her Maker, in +those solemn walls, to draw to herself the homage and +the attention that was due to God alone; but yet it was +true that, for years and years, Lillie’s unconfessed yet +only motive for appearing in church had been the display +of herself, and the winning of admiration.</p> + +<p>But is she so much worse than others?—than the +clergyman who uses the pulpit and the sacred office to +show off his talents?—than the singers who sing God’s +praises to show their voices,—who intone the agonies +of their Redeemer, or the glories of the <i>Te Deum</i>, +confident on the comments of the newspaper press on +their performance the next week? No: Lillie may be +a little sinner, but not above others in this matter.</p> + +<p>“Lillie,” said John to her after dinner, assuming a +careless, matter-of-course air, “would you like to drive +with me over to Spindlewood, and see my Sunday +school?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Your</i> Sunday school, John? Why, bless me! do +<i>you</i> teach Sunday school?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly I do. Grace and I have a school of two +hundred children and young people belonging to our +factories. I am superintendent.”</p> + +<p>“I never did hear of any thing so odd!” said Lillie. +“What in the world can you want to take all that trouble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +for,—go basking over there in the hot sun, and be +shut up with a room full of those ill-smelling factory-people? +Why, I’m sure it can’t be your duty! I +wouldn’t do it for the world. Nothing would tempt +me. Why, gracious, John, you might catch small-pox +or something!”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! Lillie, child, you don’t know any thing about +them. They are just as cleanly and respectable as anybody.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well! they may be. But these Irish and Germans +and Swedes and Danes, and all that low class, do +smell so,—you needn’t tell me, now!—that working-class +smell is a thing that can’t be disguised.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, these are our people. They are the +laborers from whose toils our wealth comes; and we +owe them something.”</p> + +<p>“Well! you pay them something, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I mean morally. We owe our efforts to instruct +their children, and to elevate and guide them. Lillie, +I feel that it is wrong for us to use wealth merely as +a means of self-gratification. We ought to labor for +those who labor for us. We ought to deny ourselves, +and make some sacrifices of ease for their good.”</p> + +<p>“You dear old preachy creature!” said Lillie. “How +good you must be! But, really, I haven’t the smallest +vocation to be a missionary,—not the smallest. I +can’t think of any thing that would induce me to take +a long, hot ride in the sun, and to sit in that stived-up +room with those common creatures.”</p> + +<p>John looked grave. “Lillie,” he said, “you shouldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +speak of any of your fellow-beings in that heartless +way.”</p> + +<p>“Well now, if you are going to scold me, I’m sure I +don’t want to go. I’m sure, if everybody that stays at +home, and has comfortable times, Sundays, instead of +going out on missions, is heartless, there are a good +many heartless people in the world.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, my darling. I didn’t mean, +dear, that <i>you</i> were heartless, but that what you said +<i>sounded</i> so. I knew you didn’t really mean it. I +didn’t ask you, dear, to go to <i>work</i>,—only to be company +for me.”</p> + +<p>“And I ask you to stay at home, and be company +for <i>me</i>. I’m sure it is lonesome enough here, and you +are off on business almost all your days; and you might +stay with me Sundays. You could hire some poor, +pious young man to do all the work over there. There +are plenty of them, dear knows, that it would be a real +charity to help, and that could preach and pray better +than you can, I know. I don’t think a man that is busy +all the week ought to work Sundays. It is breaking the +Sabbath.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, I am <i>interested</i> in my Sunday school. +I know all my people, and they know me; and no one +else in the world could do for them what I could.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I should think you might be interested in <i>me:</i> +nobody else can do for me what you can, and I want +you to stay with me. That’s just the way with you +men: you don’t care any thing about us after you +get us.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, Lillie, darling, you know that isn’t so.”</p> + +<p>“It’s just so. You care more for your old missionary +work, now, than you do for me. I’m sure I never +knew that I’d married a home-missionary.”</p> + +<p>“Darling, please, now, don’t laugh at me, and try to +make me selfish and worldly. You have such power +over me, you ought to be my inspiration.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be your common-sense, John. When you get +on stilts, and run benevolence into the ground, I’ll pull +you down. Now, I know it must be bad for a man, +that has as much as you do to occupy his mind all the +week, to go out and work Sundays; and it’s foolish, +when you could perfectly well hire somebody else to do +it, and stay at home, and have a good time.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, I <i>need</i> it myself.”</p> + +<p>“Need it,—what for? I can’t imagine.”</p> + +<p>“To keep me from becoming a mere selfish, worldly +man, and living for mere material good and pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“You dear old Don Quixote! Well, you are altogether +in the clouds above me. I can’t understand a +word of all that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, good-by, darling,” said John, kissing her, +and hastening out of the room, to cut short the interview.</p> + +<p>Milton has described the peculiar influence of woman +over man, in lowering his moral tone, and bringing him +down to what he considered the peculiarly womanly +level. “You women,” he said to his wife, when she +tried to induce him to seek favors at court by some +concession of principle,—“you women never care for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +any thing but to be fine, and to ride in your coaches.” +In Father Adam’s description of the original Eve, he +says,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">“All higher knowledge in her presence falls</div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Degraded; wisdom, in discourse with her,</span></div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Loses, discountenanced, and like folly shows.”</span></div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Something like this effect was always produced on +John’s mind when he tried to settle questions relating +to his higher nature with Lillie. He seemed, somehow, +always to get the worst of it. All her womanly graces +and fascinations, so powerful over his senses and imagination, +arrayed themselves formidably against him, +and for the time seemed to strike him dumb. What +he believed, and believed with enthusiasm, when he +was alone, or with Grace, seemed to drizzle away, and +be belittled, when he undertook to convince her of it. +Lest John should be called a muff and a spoon for this +peculiarity, we cite once more the high authority aforesaid, +where Milton makes poor Adam tell the angel,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 6em;">“Yet when I approach</span></div> +<div class="verse">Her loveliness, so absolute she seems</div> +<div class="verse">And in herself complete, so well to know</div> +<div class="verse">Her own, that what she wills to do or say</div> +<div class="verse">Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>John went out from Lillie’s presence rather humbled +and over-crowed. When the woman that a man loves +laughs at his moral enthusiasms, it is like a black frost +on the delicate tips of budding trees. It is up-hill work, +as we all know, to battle with indolence and selfishness, +and self-seeking and hard-hearted worldliness. Then +the highest and holiest part of our nature has a bashfulness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +of its own. It is a heavenly stranger, and +easily shamed. A nimble-tongued, skilful woman can +so easily show the ridiculous side of what seemed +heroism; and what is called common-sense, so generally, +is only some neatly put phase of selfishness. Poor +John needed the angel at his elbow, to give him the +caution which he is represented as giving to Father +Adam:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 6em;">“What transports thee so?</span></div> +<div class="verse">An outside?—fair, no doubt, and worthy well</div> +<div class="verse">Thy cherishing, thy honor, and thy love,</div> +<div class="verse">Not thy subjection. Weigh her with thyself,</div> +<div class="verse">Then value. Oft-times nothing profits more</div> +<div class="verse">Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right</div> +<div class="verse">Well managed: of that skill the more thou knowest,</div> +<div class="verse">The more she will acknowledge thee her head,</div> +<div class="verse">And to realities yield all her shows.”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>But John had no angel at his elbow. He was a +fellow with a great heart,—good as gold,—with upward +aspirations, but with slow speech; and, when not +sympathized with, he became confused and incoherent, +and even dumb. So his only way with his little pink +and white empress was immediate and precipitate flight.</p> + +<p>Lillie ran to the window when he was gone, and saw +him and Grace get into the carriage together; and then +she saw them drive to the old Ferguson House, and +Rose Ferguson came out and got in with them. “Well,” +she said to herself, “he shan’t do that many times +more,—I’m resolved.”</p> + +<p>No, she did not say it. It would be well for us all +if we <i>did</i> put into words, plain and explicit, many instinctive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +resolves and purposes that arise in our hearts, +and which, for want of being so expressed, influence us +undetected and unchallenged. If we would say out +boldly, “I don’t care for right or wrong, or good or evil, +or anybody’s rights or anybody’s happiness, or the +general good, or God himself,—all I care for, or feel +the least interest in, is to have a good time myself, +and I mean to do it, come what may,”—we should be +only expressing a feeling which often lies in the dark +back-room of the human heart; and saying it might +alarm us from the drugged sleep of life. It might +rouse us to shake off the slow, creeping paralysis of +selfishness and sin before it is for ever too late.</p> + +<p>But Lillie was a creature who had lost the power +of self-knowledge. She was, my dear sir, what you +suppose the true woman to be,—a bundle of blind +instincts; and among these the strongest was that of +property in her husband, and power over him. She had +lived in her power over men; it was her field of ambition. +She knew them thoroughly. Women are called ivy; +and the ivy has a hundred little fingers in every inch of +its length, that strike at every flaw and crack and weak +place in the strong wall they mean to overgrow; and +so had Lillie. She saw, at a glance, that the sober, +thoughtful, Christian life of Springdale was wholly opposed +to the life she wanted to lead, and in which John +was to be her instrument. She saw that, if such +women as Grace and Rose had power with him, she +should not have; and her husband should be hers alone. +He should do her will, and be her subject,—so she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +thought, smiling at herself as she looked in the looking-glass, +and then curled herself peacefully and languidly +down in the corner of the sofa, and drew forth the +French novel that was her usual Sunday companion.</p> + +<p>Lillie liked French novels. There was an atmosphere +of things in them that suited her. The young +married women had lovers and admirers; and there +was the constant stimulus of being courted and adored, +under the safe protection of a good-natured “<i>mari</i>.”</p> + +<p>In France, the flirting is all done after marriage, and +the young girl looks forward to it as her introduction +to a career of conquest. In America, so great is our +democratic liberality, that we think of uniting the two +systems. We are getting on in that way fast. A +knowledge of French is beginning to be considered as +the pearl of great price, to gain which, all else must be +sold. The girls must go to the French theatre, and +be stared at by French <i>débauchées</i>, who laugh at them +while they pretend they understand what, thank +Heaven, they cannot. Then we are to have series of +French novels, carefully translated, and puffed and +praised even by the religious press, written by the +corps of French female reformers, which will show them +exactly how the naughty French women manage their +cards; so that, by and by, we shall have the latest +phase of eclecticism,—the union of American and +French manners. The girl will flirt till twenty <i>à +l’Américaine</i>, and then marry and flirt till forty <i>à +la Française</i>. This was about Lillie’s plan of life. Could +she hope to carry it out in Springdale?</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> + +<small><i>SPINDLEWOOD.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IT seemed a little like old times to Grace, to be once +more going with Rose and John over the pretty +romantic road to Spindlewood.</p> + +<p>John did not reflect upon how little she now saw of +him, and how much of a trial the separation was; but +he noticed how bright and almost gay she was, when +they were by themselves once more. He was gay too. +In the congenial atmosphere of sympathy, his confidence +in himself, and his own right in the little controversy +that had occurred, returned. Not that he said a +word of it; he did not do so, and would not have done +so for the world. Grace and Rose were full of anecdotes +of this, that, and the other of their scholars; and +all the particulars of some of their new movements +were discussed. The people had, of their own accord, +raised a subscription for a library, which was to be +presented to John that day, with a request that he +would select the books.</p> + +<p>“Gracie, that must be your work,” said John; “you +know I shall have an important case next week.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! Rose and I will settle it,” said Grace. +“Rose, we’ll get the catalogues from all the book-stores, +and mark the things.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll want books for the children just beginning +to read; and then books for the young men in John’s +Bible-class, and all the way between,” said Rose. “It +will be quite a work to select.”</p> + +<p>“And then to bargain with the book-stores, and +make the money go ‘far as possible,’” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“And then there’ll be the covering of the books,” +said Rose. “I’ll tell you. I think I’ll manage to +have a lawn tea at our house; and the girls shall all +come early, and get the books covered,—that’ll be +charming.”</p> + +<p>“I think Lillie would like that,” put in John.</p> + +<p>“I should be so glad!” said Rose. “What a lovely +little thing she is! I hope she’ll like it. I wanted to +get up something pretty for her. I think, at this time +of the year, lawn teas are a little variety.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll like it of course!” said John, with +some sinking of heart about the Sunday-school books.</p> + +<p>There were so many pressing to shake hands with +John, and congratulate him, so many histories to tell, +so many cases presented for consultation, that it was +quite late before they got away; and tea had been +waiting for them more than an hour when they +returned.</p> + +<p>Lillie looked pensive, and had that indescribable air +of patient martyrdom which some women know how +to make so very effective. Lillie had good general<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +knowledge of the science of martyrdom,—a little spice +and flavor of it had been gently infused at times into +her demeanor ever since she had been at Springdale. +She could do the uncomplaining sufferer with the happiest +effect. She contrived to insinuate at times how +she didn’t complain,—how dull and slow she found +her life, and yet how she endeavored to be cheerful.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she said to John when they were by +themselves, “that you and Grace both think I’m a +horrid creature.”</p> + +<p>“Why, no, dearest; indeed we don’t.”</p> + +<p>“But you do, though; oh, I feel it! The fact is, +John, I haven’t a particle of constitution; and, if I +should try to go on as Grace does, it would kill me in a +month. Ma never would let me try to do any thing; +and, if I did, I was sure to break all down under it: +but, if you say so, I’ll try to go into this school.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, Lillie! I don’t want you to go in. I know, +darling, you could not stand any fatigue. I only +wanted you to take an interest,—just to go and see +them for my sake.”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, if you must go, and must keep it up, I +must try to go. I’ll go with you next Sunday. It will +make my head ache perhaps; but no matter, if you +wish it. You don’t think badly of me, do you?” she +said coaxingly, playing with his whiskers.</p> + +<p>“No, darling, not the least.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it would be a great deal better for you if +you had married a strong, energetic woman, like your +sister. I do admire her so; but it discourages me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Darling, I’d a thousand times rather have you +what you are,” said John; for—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 8em;">“What she wills to do,</span></div> +<div class="verse">Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>“O John! come, you ought to be sincere.”</p> + +<p>“Sincere, Lillie! I am sincere.”</p> + +<p>“You really would rather have poor, poor little me +than a woman like Gracie,—a great, strong, energetic +woman?” And Lillie laid her soft cheek down on his +arm in pensive humility.</p> + +<p>“Yes, a thousand million times,” said John in his +enthusiasm, catching her in his arms and kissing her. +“I wouldn’t for the world have you any thing but the +darling little Lillie you are. I love your faults more +than the virtues of other women. You are a thousand +times better than I am. I am a great, coarse blockhead, +compared to you. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings +this noon; you know, Lillie, I’m hasty, and apt to +be inconsiderate. I don’t really know that I ought to +let you go over next Sunday.”</p> + +<p>“O John, you are so good! Certainly if you go I +ought to; and I shall try my best.” Then John told +her all about the books and the lawn tea, and Lillie +listened approvingly.</p> + +<p>So they had a lawn tea at the Fergusons that week, +where Lillie was the cynosure of all eyes. Mr. Mathews, +the new young clergyman of Springdale, was +there. Mr. Mathews had been credited as one of the +admirers of Rose Ferguson; but on this occasion he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +promenaded and talked with Lillie, and Lillie alone, +with an exclusive devotion.</p> + +<p>“What a lovely young creature your new sister is!” +he said to Grace. “She seems to have so much religious +sensibility.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Lillie,” said John, “Mathews seemed to be +smitten with you. I had a notion of interfering.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see any thing like it, John? I +couldn’t shake the creature off. I was so thankful when +you came up and took me. He’s Rose’s admirer, and +he hardly spoke a word to her. I think it’s shameful.”</p> + +<p>The next Sunday, Lillie rode over to Spindlewood +with John and Rose and Mr. Mathews.</p> + +<p>Never had the picturesque of religion received more +lustre than from her presence. John was delighted to +see how they all gazed at her and wondered. Lillie +looked like a first-rate French picture of the youthful +Madonna,—white, pure, and patient. The day was +hot, and the hall crowded; and John noticed, what he +never did before, the close smell and confined air, and +it made him uneasy. When we are feeling with the +nerves of some one else, we notice every roughness and +inconvenience. John thought he had never seen his +school appear so little to advantage. Yet Lillie was an +image of patient endurance, trying to be pleased; and +John thought her, as she sat and did nothing, more of +a saint than Rose and Grace, who were laboriously +sorting books, and gathering around them large classes +of factory boys, to whom they talked with an exhausting +devotedness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>When all was over, Lillie sat back on the carriage-cushions, +and smelled at her gold vinaigrette.</p> + +<p>“You are all worn out, dear,” said John, tenderly.</p> + +<p>“It’s no matter,” she said faintly.</p> + +<p>“O Lillie darling! <i>does</i> your head ache?”</p> + +<p>“A little,—you know it was close in there. I’m +very sensitive to such things. I don’t think they affect +others as they do me,” said Lillie, with the voice of a +dying zephyr.</p> + +<p>“Lillie, <i>it is not your duty to go</i>,” said John; “if you +are not made ill by this, I never will take you again; +you are too precious to be risked.”</p> + +<p>“How can you say so, John? I’m a poor little +creature,—no use to anybody.”</p> + +<p>Hereupon John told her that her only use in life was +to be lovely and to be loved,—that a thing of beauty +was a joy forever, &c., &c. But Lillie was too much +exhausted, on her return, to appear at the tea-table. +She took to her bed at once with sick headache, to the +poignant remorse of John. “You see how it is, Gracie,” +he said. “Poor dear little thing, she is willing enough, +but there’s nothing of her. We mustn’t allow her to +exert herself; her feelings always carry her away.”</p> + +<p>The next Sunday, John sat at home with Lillie, who +found herself too unwell to go to church, and was in +a state of such low spirits as to require constant soothing +to keep her quiet.</p> + +<p>“It is fortunate that I have you and Rose to trust +the school with,” said John; “you see, it’s my first duty +to take care of Lillie.”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br /> + +<small><i>A CRISIS.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>ONE of the shrewdest and most subtle modern +French writers has given his views of womankind +in the following passage:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“There are few women who have not found themselves, +at least once in their lives, in regard to some +incontestable fact, faced down by precise, keen, searching +inquiry,—one of those questions pitilessly put by +their husbands, the very idea of which gives a slight +chill, and the first word of which enters the heart like a +stroke of a dagger. Hence comes the maxim, <i>Every +woman lies</i>—obliging lies—venial lies—sublime lies—horrible +lies—but always the obligation of lying.</p> + +<p>“This obligation once admitted, must it not be a necessity +to know how to lie well? In France, the women +lie admirably. Our customs instruct them so well in +imposture. And woman is so naïvely impertinent, so +pretty, so graceful, so true, in her lying! They so well +understand its usefulness in social life for avoiding +those violent shocks which would destroy happiness,—it +is like the cotton in which they pack their jewelry.</p> + +<p>“Lying is to them the very foundation of language,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +and truth is only the exception; they speak it, as they +are virtuous, from caprice or for a purpose. According +to their character, some women laugh when they lie, +and some cry; some become grave, and others get +angry. Having begun life by pretending perfect insensibility +to that homage which flatters them most, +they often finish by lying even to themselves. Who +has not admired their apparent superiority and calm, at +the moment when they were trembling for the mysterious +treasures of their love? Who has not studied their +ease and facility, their presence of mind in the midst +of the most critical embarrassments of social life? +There is nothing awkward about it; their deception +flows as softly as the snow falls from heaven.</p> + +<p>“Yet there are men that have the presumption to +expect to get the better of the Parisian woman!—of +the woman who possesses thirty-seven thousand ways +of saying ‘No,’ and incommensurable variations in saying +‘Yes.’”</p></blockquote> + +<p>This is a Frenchman’s view of life in a country where +women are trained more systematically for the mere +purposes of attraction than in any other country, and +where the pursuit of admiration and the excitement of +winning lovers are represented by its authors as constituting +the main staple of woman’s existence. France, +unfortunately, is becoming the great society-teacher of +the world. What with French theatres, French operas, +French novels, and the universal rush of American +women for travel, France is becoming so powerful on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +American fashionable society, that the things said of +the Parisian woman begin in some cases to apply to +some women in America.</p> + +<p>Lillie was as precisely the woman here described as +if she had been born and bred in Paris. She had all +the thirty-seven thousand ways of saying “No,” and +the incommensurable variations in saying “Yes,” as completely +as the best French teaching could have given it. +She possessed, and had used, all that graceful facility, +in the story of herself that she had told John in the +days of courtship. Her power over him was based on +a dangerous foundation of unreality. Hence, during +the first few weeks of her wedded life, came a critical +scene, in which she was brought in collision with one +of those “pitiless questions” our author speaks of.</p> + +<p>Her wedding-presents, manifold and brilliant, had +remained at home, in the charge of her mother, during +the wedding-journey. One bright day, a few weeks +after her arrival in Springdale, the boxes containing +the treasures were landed there; and John, with all +enthusiasm, busied himself with the work of unpacking +these boxes, and drawing forth the treasures.</p> + +<p>Now, it so happened that Lillie’s maternal grandfather, +a nice, pious old gentleman, had taken the +occasion to make her the edifying and suggestive +present of a large, elegantly bound family Bible.</p> + +<p>The binding was unexceptionable; and Lillie assigned +it a proper place of honor among her wedding-gear. +Alas! she had not looked into it, nor seen what +dangers to her power were lodged between its leaves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 274px;"> +<img src="images/i095.jpg" width="274" height="327" alt="man sitting down reading" /> +<div class="caption">“He found the date of the birth of ‘Lillie Ellis.’”</div> +</div> + +<p>But John, who was curious in the matter of books, +sat quietly down in a corner to examine it; and on the +middle page, under the head “Family Record,” he +found, in a large, bold hand, the date of the birth of +“Lillie Ellis” in figures of the most uncompromising +plainness; and thence, with one flash of his well-trained +arithmetical sense, came the perception that, instead of +being twenty years old, she was in fact twenty-seven,—and +that of course she had lied to him.</p> + +<p>It was a horrid and a hard word for an American +young man to have suggested in relation to his wife. +If we may believe the French romancer, a Frenchman +would simply have smiled in amusement on detecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +this petty feminine <i>ruse</i> of his beloved. But American +men are in the habit of expecting the truth from respectable +women as a matter of course; and the want +of it in the smallest degree strikes them as shocking. +Only an Englishman or an American can understand +the dreadful pain of that discovery to John.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Saxon race have, so to speak, a worship +of truth; and they hate and abhor lying with an energy +which leaves no power of tolerance.</p> + +<p>The Celtic races have a certain sympathy with +deception. They have a certain appreciation of the +value of lying as a fine art, which has never been more +skilfully shown than in the passage from De Balzac we +have quoted. The woman who is described by him as +lying so sweetly and skilfully is represented as one of +those women “qui ont je ne sais quoi de saint et de +sacré, qui inspirent tant de respect que l’amour,”—“a +woman who has an indescribable something of holiness +and purity which inspires respect as well as love.” It +was no detraction from the character of Jesus, according +to the estimate of Renan, to represent him as +consenting to a benevolent fraud, and seeming to work +miracles when he did not work them, by way of increasing +his good influence over the multitude.</p> + +<p>But John was the offspring of a generation of men +for hundreds of years, who would any of them have +gone to the stake rather than have told the smallest +untruth; and for him who had been watched and +guarded and catechised against this sin from his cradle, +till he was as true and pure as a crystal rock, to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +his faith shattered in the woman he loved, was a terrible +thing.</p> + +<p>As he read the fatal figures, a mist swam before +his eyes,—a sort of faintness came over him. It +seemed for a moment as if his very life was sinking +down through his boots into the carpet. He threw +down the book hastily, and, turning, stepped through +an open window into the garden, and walked quickly +off.</p> + +<p>“Where in the world is John going?” said Lillie, +running to the door, and calling after him in imperative +tones.</p> + +<p>“John, John, come back. I haven’t done with you +yet;” but John never turned his head.</p> + +<p>“How very odd! what in the world is the matter +with him?” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>John was gone all the afternoon. He took a long, +long walk, all by himself, and thought the matter over. +He remembered that fresh, childlike, almost infantine +face, that looked up into his with such a bewitching air +of frankness and candor, as she professed to be telling +all about herself and her history; and now which or +what of it was true? It seemed as if he loathed her; +and yet he couldn’t help loving her, while he despised +himself for doing it.</p> + +<p>When he came home to supper, he was silent and +morose. Lillie came running to meet him; but he +threw her off, saying he was tired. She was frightened; +she had never seen him look like that.</p> + +<p>“John, what is the matter with you?” said Grace at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +the tea-table. “You are upsetting every thing, and +don’t drink your tea.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing—only—I have some troublesome business +to settle,” he said, getting up to go out again. “You +needn’t wait for me; I shall be out late.”</p> + +<p>“What can be the matter?”</p> + +<p>Lillie, indeed, had not the remotest idea. Yet she +remembered his jumping up suddenly, and throwing +down the Bible; and mechanically she went to it, and +opened it. She turned it over; and the record met +her eye.</p> + +<p>“Provoking!” she said. “Stupid old creature! must +needs go and put that out in full.” Lillie took a paper-folder, +and cut the leaf out quite neatly; then folded +and burned it.</p> + +<p>She knew now what was the matter. John was +angry at her; but she couldn’t help wondering that he +should be so angry. If he had laughed at her, teased +her, taxed her with the trick, she would have understood +what to do. But this terrible gloom, this awful +commotion of the elements, frightened her.</p> + +<p>She went to her room, saying that she had a headache, +and would go to bed. But she did not. She +took her French novel, and read till she heard him +coming; and then she threw down her book, and began +to cry. He came into the room, and saw her leaning +like a little white snow-wreath over the table, sobbing +as if her heart would break. To do her justice, +Lillie’s sobs were not affected. She was lonesome and +thoroughly frightened; and, when she heard him coming,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +her nerves gave out. John’s heart yearned towards +her. His short-lived anger had burned out; and he +was perfectly longing for a reconciliation. He felt as if +he must have her to love, no matter what she was. He +came up to her, and stroked her hair. “O Lillie!” he +said, “why couldn’t you have told me the truth? +What made you deceive me?”</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t like me if I did,” said +Lillie, in her sobs.</p> + +<p>“O Lillie! I should have liked you, no matter +how old you were,—only you should have told me +<i>the truth</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I know it—I know it—oh, it <i>was</i> wrong of me!” +and Lillie sobbed, and seemed in danger of falling into +convulsions; and John’s heart gave out. He gathered +her in his arms. “I can’t help loving you; and I can’t +live without you,” he said, “be you what you may!”</p> + +<p>Lillie’s little heart beat with triumph under all her +sobs: she had got him, and should hold him yet.</p> + +<p>“There can be no confidence between husband and +wife, Lillie,” said John, gravely, “unless we are perfectly +true with each other. Promise me, dear, that +you will never deceive me again.”</p> + +<p>Lillie promised with ready fervor. “O John!” she +said, “I never should have done so wrong if I had only +come under your influence earlier. The fact is, I have +been under the worst influences all my life. I never +had anybody like you to guide me.”</p> + +<p>John may of course be excused for feeling that +his flattering little penitent was more to him than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +ever; and as to Lillie, she gave a sigh of relief. <i>That</i> +was over, “anyway;” and she had him not only safe, +but more completely hers than before.</p> + +<p>A generous man is entirely unnerved by a frank +confession. If Lillie had said one word in defence, +if she had raised the slightest shadow of an argument, +John would have roused up all his moral principle +to oppose her; but this poor little white water-sprite, +dissolving in a rain of penitent tears, quite washed +away all his anger and all his heroism.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Lillie, all fresh in a ravishing +toilet, with field-daisies in her hair, was in a condition +to laugh gently at John for his emotion of yesterday. +She triumphed softly, not too obviously, in her power. +He couldn’t do without her,—do what she might,—that +was plain.</p> + +<p>“Now, John,” she said, “don’t you think we poor +women are judged rather hardly? Men, you know, +tell all sorts of lies to carry on their great politics and +their ambition, and nobody thinks it so dreadful of +<i>them</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I <i>do</i>—I should,” interposed John.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well! <i>you</i>—you are an exception. It is not +one man in a hundred that is so good as you are. +Now, we women have only one poor little ambition,—to +be pretty, to please you men; and, as soon as +you know we are getting old, you don’t like us. And +can you think it’s so very shocking if we don’t come +square up to the dreadful truth about our age? Youth +and beauty is all there is to us, you know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>“O Lillie! don’t say so,” said John, who felt the +necessity of being instructive, and of improving the +occasion to elevate the moral tone of his little elf. +“Goodness lasts, my dear, when beauty fades.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nonsense! Now, John, don’t talk humbug. +I’d like to see <i>you</i> following goodness when beauty +is gone. I’ve known lots of plain old maids that were +perfect saints and angels; and yet men crowded and +jostled by them to get the pretty sinners. I dare +say now,” she added, with a bewitching look over +her shoulder at him, “you’d rather have me than +Miss Almira Carraway,—hadn’t you, now?”</p> + +<p>And Lillie put her white arm round his neck, and +her downy cheek to his, and said archly, “Come, now, +confess.”</p> + +<p>Then John told her that she was a bad, naughty girl; +and she laughed; and, on the whole, the pair were +more hilarious and loving than usual.</p> + +<p>But yet, when John was away at his office, he +thought of it again, and found there was still a sore +spot in his heart.</p> + +<p>She had cheated him once; would she cheat him +again? And she could cheat so prettily, so serenely, +and with such a candid face, it was a dangerous talent.</p> + +<p>No: she wasn’t like his mother, he thought with a +sigh. The “je ne sais quoi de saint et de sacré,” +which had so captivated his imagination, did not cover +the saintly and sacred nature; it was a mere outward +purity of complexion and outline. And then Grace,—she +must not be left to find out what he knew about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +Lillie. He had told Grace that she was only twenty,—told +it on her authority; and now must he become an +accomplice? If called on to speak of his wife’s age, +must he accommodate the truth to her story, or must +he palter and evade? Here was another brick laid on +the wall of separation between his sister and himself. +It was rising daily. Here was another subject on which +he could never speak frankly with Grace; for he must +defend Lillie,—every impulse of his heart rushed to +protect her.</p> + +<p>But it is a terrible truth, and one that it will not hurt +any of us to bear in mind, that our judgments of our +friends are involuntary.</p> + +<p>We may long with all our hearts to confide; we may +be fascinated, entangled, and wish to be blinded; but +blind we cannot be. The friend that has lied to us +once, we may long to believe; but we cannot. Nay, +more; it is the worse for us, if, in our desire to hold the +dear deceiver in our hearts, we begin to chip and hammer +on the great foundations of right and honor, and +to say within ourselves, “After all, why be so particular?” +Then, when we have searched about for all the +reasons and apologies and extenuations for wrong-doing, +are we sure that in our human weakness we shall not +be pulling down the moral barriers in ourselves? The +habit of excusing evil, and finding apologies, and wishing +to stand with one who stands on a lower moral +plane, is not a wholesome one for the soul.</p> + +<p>As fate would have it, the very next day after this +little scene, who should walk into the parlor where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +Lillie, John, and Grace were sitting, but that terror of +American democracy, the census-taker. Armed with +the whole power of the republic, this official steps with +elegant ease into the most sacred privacies of the family. +Flutterings and denials are in vain. Bridget and +Katy and Anne, no less than Seraphina and Isabella, +must give up the critical secrets of their lives.</p> + +<p>John took the paper into the kitchen. Honest old +Bridget gave in her age with effrontery as “twinty-five.” +Anne giggled and flounced, and declared on her +word she didn’t know,—they could put it down as they +liked. “But, Anne, you <i>must</i> tell, or you may be sent +to jail, you know.”</p> + +<p>Anne giggled still harder, and tossed her head: +“Then it’s to jail I’ll have to go; for I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me,” said Lillie, with an air of edifying +candor, “what a fuss they make! Set down my age +‘twenty-seven,’ John,” she added.</p> + +<p>Grace started, and looked at John; he met her eye, +and blushed to the roots of his hair.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” said Lillie, “are you +embarrassed at telling your age?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing!” said John, writing down the numbers +hastily; and then, finding a sudden occasion to +give directions in the garden, he darted out. “It’s so +silly to be ashamed of our age!” said Lillie, as the +census-taker withdrew.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Grace; and she had the humanity +never to allude to the subject with her brother.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER X.<br /> + +<small><i>CHANGES.</i></small></h2> + +<div class='blockquot'><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A chamber at the Seymour House. Lillie discovered weeping. +John rushing in with empressement.</i></p></div> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“LILLIE, you <i>shall</i> tell me what ails you.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing ails me, John.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there does; you were crying when I came in.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, that’s nothing!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but it <i>is</i> a great deal! What is the matter? +I can see that you are not happy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw, John! I am as happy as I ought to be, +I dare say; there isn’t much the matter with me, only +a little blue, and I don’t feel quite strong.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t feel strong! I’ve noticed it, Lillie.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, John, the fact is, that I never have +got through this month without going to the sea-side. +Mamma always took me. The doctors told her that +my constitution was such that I couldn’t get along +without it; but I dare say I shall do well enough in +time, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie,” said John, “if you do need sea-air, +you must go. I can’t leave my business; that’s the +trouble.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, no, John! don’t think of it. I ought to make +an effort to get along. You see, it’s very foolish in me, +but places affect my spirits so. It’s perfectly absurd +how I am affected.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, I hope this place doesn’t affect you +unpleasantly,” said John.</p> + +<p>“It’s a nice, darling place, John, and it’s very silly in +me; but it is a fact that this house somehow has a depressing +effect on my spirits. You know it’s not like +the houses I’ve been used to. It has a sort of old look; +and I can’t help feeling that it puts me in mind of those +who are dead and gone; and then I think I shall be dead +and gone too, some day, and it makes me cry so. Isn’t +it silly of me, John?”</p> + +<p>“Poor little pussy!” said John.</p> + +<p>“You see, John, our rooms are lovely; but they +aren’t modern and cheerful, like those I’ve been accustomed +to. They make me feel pensive and sad all the +time; but I’m trying to get over it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Lillie!” said John, “would you like the rooms +refurnished? It can easily be done if you wish it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, no, dear! You are too good; and I’m sure +the rooms are lovely, and it would hurt Gracie’s feelings +to change them. No: I must try and get over it. +I know just how silly it is, and I shall try to overcome +it. If I had only more strength, I believe I could.”</p> + +<p>“Well, darling, you must go to the sea-side. I shall +have you sent right off to Newport. Gracie can go +with you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, John! not for the world. Gracie must stay,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +and keep house for you. She’s such a help to you, +that it would be a shame to take her away. But I +think mamma would go with me,—if you could take me +there, and engage my rooms and all that, why, mamma +could stay with me, you know. To be sure, it would +be a trial not to have you there; but then if I could +get up my strength, you know,”—</p> + +<p>“Exactly, certainly; and, Lillie, how would you like +the parlors arranged if you had your own way?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, John! don’t think of it.”</p> + +<p>“But I just want to know for curiosity. Now, how +would you have them if you could?”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, John, don’t you think it would be +lovely to have them frescoed? Did you ever see the +Folingsbees’ rooms in New York? They were so +lovely!—one was all in blue, and the other in crimson, +opening into each other; with carved furniture, and +those <i>marquetrie</i> tables, and all sorts of little French +things. They had such a gay and cheerful look.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Lillie, if you want our rooms like that, you +shall have them.”</p> + +<p>“O John, you are too good! I couldn’t ask such +a sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw! it isn’t a sacrifice. I don’t doubt I +shall like them better myself. Your taste is perfect, +Lillie; and, now I think of it, I wonder that I thought +of bringing you here without consulting you in every +particular. A woman ought to be queen in her own +house, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“But, Gracie! Now, John, I know she has associations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +with all the things in this house, and it would +be cruel to her,” said Lillie, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! Gracie is a good, sensible girl, and ready +to make any rational change. I suppose we have been +living rather behind the times, and are somewhat rusty, +that’s a fact; but Gracie will enjoy new things as +much as anybody, I dare say.”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, since you are set on it, there’s Charlie +Ferrola, one of my particular friends; he’s an architect, +and does all about arranging rooms and houses +and furniture. He did the Folingsbees’, and the Hortons’, +and the Jeromes’, and no end of real nobby +people’s houses; and made them perfectly lovely. People +say that one wouldn’t know that they weren’t in +Paris, in houses that he does.”</p> + +<p>Now, our John was by nature a good solid chip of +the old Anglo-Saxon block; and, if there was any thing +that he had no special affinity for, it was for French +things. He had small opinion of French morals, and +French ways in general; but then at this moment he +saw his Lillie, whom, but half an hour before, he found +all pale and tear-drenched, now radiant and joyous, +sleek as a humming-bird, with the light in her eyes, and +the rattle on the tip of her tongue; and he felt so +delighted to see her bright and gay and joyous, that he +would have turned his house into the Jardin Mabille, if +that were possible.</p> + +<p>Lillie had the prettiest little caressing tricks and +graces imaginable; and she perched herself on his +knee, and laughed and chatted so gayly, and pulled his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +whiskers so saucily, and then, springing up, began arraying +herself in such an astonishing daintiness of device, +and fluttering before him with such a variety of well-assorted +plumage, that John was quite taken off his feet. +He did not care so much whether what she willed to +do were, “Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best,” as feel +that what she wished to do must be done at any rate.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 273px;"> +<img src="images/i108.jpg" width="273" height="368" alt="Young woman on man's lap" /> +<div class="caption">“She perched herself on his knee.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Why, darling!” he said in his rapture; “why +didn’t you tell me all this before? Here you have +been growing sad and blue, and losing your vivacity +and spirits, and never told me why!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I thought it was my duty, John, to try to bear it,” +said Lillie, with the sweet look of a virgin saint. “I +thought perhaps I should get used to things in time; +and I think it is a wife’s duty to accommodate herself +to her husband’s circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“No, it’s a husband’s duty to accommodate himself +to his wife’s wishes,” said John. “What’s that +fellow’s address? I’ll write to him about doing our +house, forthwith.”</p> + +<p>“But, John, do pray tell Gracie that it’s <i>your</i> wish. +I don’t want her to think that it’s I that am doing +this. Now, pray do think whether you really want it +yourself. You see it must be so natural for you to like +the old things! They must have associations, and +I wouldn’t for the world, now, be the one to change +them; and, after all, how silly it was of me to feel +blue!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say any more, Lillie. Let me see,—next +week,” he said, taking out his pocket-book, and looking +over his memoranda,—“next week I’ll take you down +to Newport; and you write to-day to your mother to +meet you there, and be your guest. I’ll write and +engage the rooms at once.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I shall do without you, John.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, I couldn’t stay possibly! But I may run +down now and then, for a night, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we must make that do,” said Lillie, with +a pensive sigh.</p> + +<p>Thus two very important moves on Miss Lillie’s +checker-board of life were skilfully made. The house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +was to be refitted, and the Newport precedent established.</p> + +<p>Now, dear friends, don’t think Lillie a pirate, or a +conspirator, or a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, or any thing +else but what she was,—a pretty little, selfish woman; +undeveloped in her conscience and affections, and strong +in her instincts and perceptions; in a blind way using +what means were most in her line to carry her purposes. +Lillie had always found her prettiness, her littleness, +her helplessness, and her tears so very useful in carrying +her points in life that she resorted to them as +her lawful stock in trade. Neither were her blues +entirely shamming. There comes a time after marriage, +when a husband, if he be any thing of a man, +has something else to do than make direct love to +his wife. He cannot be on duty at all hours to fan her, +and shawl her, and admire her. His love must express +itself through other channels. He must be a full man +for her sake; and, as a man, must go forth to a whole +world of interests that takes him from her. Now +what in this case shall a woman do, whose only life lies +in petting and adoration and display?</p> + +<p>Springdale had no <i>beau monde</i>, no fashionable circle, +no Bois de Boulogne, and no beaux, to make amends +for a husband’s engrossments. Grace was sisterly and +kind; but what on earth had they in common to +talk about? Lillie’s wardrobe was in all the freshness +of bridal exuberance, and there was nothing more to be +got, and so, for the moment, no stimulus in this line. +But then where to wear all these fine French dresses?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +Lillie had been called on, and invited once to little +social evening parties, through the whole round of +old, respectable families that lived under the elm-arches +of Springdale; and she had found it rather stupid. +There was not a man to make an admirer of, except the +young minister, who, after the first afternoon of seeing +her, returned to his devotion to Rose Ferguson.</p> + +<p>You know, ladies, Æsop has a pretty little fable as +follows: A young man fell desperately in love with +a cat, and prayed to Jupiter to change her to a woman +for his sake. Jupiter was so obliging as to grant his +prayer; and, behold, a soft, satin-skinned, purring, +graceful woman was given into his arms.</p> + +<p>But the legend goes on to say that, while he was +delighting in her charms, she heard the sound of <i>mice</i> +behind the wainscot, and left him forthwith to rush +after her congenial prey.</p> + +<p>Lillie had heard afar the sound of <i>mice</i> at Newport, +and she longed to be after them once more. Had +she not a prestige now as a rich young married lady? +Had she not jewels and gems to show? Had she +not any number of mouse-traps, in the way of ravishing +toilets? She thought it all over, till she was sick +with longing, and was sure that nothing but the sea-air +could do her any good; and so she fell to crying, and +kissing her faithful John, till she gained her end, like a +veritable little cat as she was.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br /> + +<small><i>NEWPORT; OR, THE PARADISE OF NOTHING +TO DO.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>BEHOLD, now, our Lillie at the height of her +heart’s desire, installed in fashionable apartments +at Newport, under the placid chaperonship of dear +mamma, who never saw the least harm in any earthly +thing her Lillie chose to do.</p> + +<p>All the dash and flash and furbelow of upper-tendom +were there; and Lillie now felt the full power and glory +of being a rich, pretty, young married woman, with +oceans of money to spend, and nothing on earth to do +but follow the fancies of the passing hour.</p> + +<p>This was Lillie’s highest ideal of happiness; and +didn’t she enjoy it?</p> + +<p>Wasn’t it something to flame forth in wondrous +toilets in the eyes of Belle Trevors and Margy Silloway +and Lottie Cavers, who were <i>not</i> married; and +before the Simpkinses and the Tomkinses and the +Jenkinses, who, last year, had said hateful things about +her, and intimated that she had gone off in her looks, +and was on the way to be an old maid?</p> + +<p>And wasn’t it a triumph when all her old beaux +came flocking round her, and her parlors became a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +daily resort and lounging-place for all the idle swains, +both of her former acquaintance and of the newcomers, +who drifted with the tide of fashion? Never +had she been so much the rage; never had she been +declared so “stunning.” The effect of all this good +fortune on her health was immediate. We all know +how the spirits affect the bodily welfare; and hence, +my dear gentlemen, we desire it to be solemnly impressed +on you, that there is nothing so good for a +woman’s health as to give her her own way.</p> + +<p>Lillie now, from this simple cause, received enormous +accessions of vigor. While at home with plain, +sober John, trying to walk in the quiet paths of domesticity, +how did her spirits droop! If you only could have +had a vision of her brain and spinal system, you would +have seen how there was no nervous fluid there, and +how all the fine little cords and fibres that string the +muscles were wilting like flowers out of water; but +now she could bathe the longest and the strongest of any +one, could ride on the beach half the day, and dance +the German into the small hours of the night, with +a degree of vigor which showed conclusively what a +fine thing for her the Newport air was. Her dancing-list +was always over-crowded with applicants; bouquets +were showered on her; and the most superb +“turn-outs,” with their masters for charioteers, were +at her daily disposal.</p> + +<p>All this made talk. The world doesn’t forgive success; +and the ancients informed us that even the gods +were envious of happy people. It is astonishing to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +the quantity of very proper and rational moral reflection +that is excited in the breast of society, by any +sort of success in life. How it shows them the vanity +of earthly enjoyments, the impropriety of setting one’s +heart on it! How does a successful married flirt +impress all her friends with the gross impropriety of +having one’s head set on gentlemen’s attentions!</p> + +<p>“I must say,” said Belle Trevors, “that dear Lillie +does astonish me. Now, I shouldn’t want to have that +dissipated Danforth lounging in my rooms every day, +as he does in Lillie’s: and then taking her out driving +day after day; for my part, I don’t think it’s respectable.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you speak to her?” said Lottie Cavers.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear! she wouldn’t mind <i>me</i>. Lillie always +was the most imprudent creature; and, if she goes on +so, she’ll certainly get awfully talked about. That +Danforth is a horrid creature; I know all about him.”</p> + +<p>As Miss Belle had herself been driving with the +“horrid creature” only the week before Lillie came, it +must be confessed that her opportunities for observation +were of an authentic kind.</p> + +<p>Lillie, as queen in her own parlor, was all grace and +indulgence. Hers was now to be the sisterly <i>rôle</i>, +or, as she laughingly styled it, the maternal. With a +ravishing morning-dress, and with a killing little cap +of about three inches in extent on her head, she +enacted the young matron, and gave full permission to +Tom, Dick, and Harry to make themselves at home in +her room, and smoke their cigars there in peace. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +“adored the smell;” in fact, she accepted the present +of a fancy box of cigarettes from Danforth with graciousness, +and would sometimes smoke one purely for +good company. She also encouraged her followers to +unveil the tender secrets of their souls confidentially +to her, and offered gracious mediations on their behalf +with any of the flitting Newport fair ones. When they, +as in duty bound, said that they saw nobody whom +they cared about now she was married, that she was +the only woman on earth for them,—she rapped +their knuckles briskly with her fan, and bid them +mind their manners. All this mode of proceeding +gave her an immense success.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<img src="images/i115.jpg" width="370" height="326" alt="young woman smoking" /> +<div class="caption">“And would sometimes smoke one purely for good company.”</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>But, as we said before, all this was talked about; and +ladies in their letters, chronicling the events of the +passing hour, sent the tidings up and down the country; +and so Miss Letitia Ferguson got a letter from +Mrs. Wilcox with full pictures and comments; and she +brought the same to Grace Seymour.</p> + +<p>“I dare say,” said Letitia, “these things have been +exaggerated; they always are: still it does seem desirable +that your brother should go there, and be with +her.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t go and be with her,” said Grace, “without +neglecting his business, already too much neglected. +Then the house is all in confusion under the hands of +painters; and there is that young artist up there,—a +very elegant gentleman,—giving orders to right +and left, every one of which involves further confusion +and deeper expense; for my part, I see no end to it. +Poor John has got ‘the Old Man of the Sea’ on his +back in the shape of this woman; and I expect she’ll +be the ruin of him yet. I can’t want to break up his +illusion about her; because, what good will it do? He +has married her, and must live with her; and, for +Heaven’s sake, let the illusion last while it can! I’m +going to draw off, and leave them to each other; +there’s no other way.”</p> + +<p>“You are, Gracie?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; you see John came to me, all stammering and +embarrassment, about this making over of the old +place; but I put him at ease at once. ‘The most +natural thing in the world, John,’ said I. ‘Of course<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +Lillie has her taste; and it’s her right to have the +house arranged to suit it.’ And then I proposed to +take all the old family things, and furnish the house +that I own on Elm Street, and live there, and let John +and Lillie keep house by themselves. You see there is +no helping the thing. Married people must be left +to themselves; nobody can help them. They must +make their own discoveries, fight their own battles, +sink or swim, together; and I have determined that +not by the winking of an eye will I interfere between +them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, but do you think John wants you to go?”</p> + +<p>“He feels badly about it; and yet I have convinced +him that it’s best. Poor fellow! all these changes +are not a bit to his taste. He liked the old place as +it was, and the old ways; but John is so unselfish. He +has got it in his head that Lillie is very sensitive +and peculiar, and that her spirits require all these +changes, as well as Newport air.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Letitia, “if a man begins to say A in +that line, he must say B.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Grace; “and also C and D, and +so on, down to X, Y, Z. A woman, armed with sick-headaches, +nervousness, debility, presentiments, fears, +horrors, and all sorts of imaginary and real diseases, +has an eternal armory of weapons of subjugation. +What can a man do? Can he tell her that she is lying +and shamming? Half the time she isn’t; she can actually +work herself into about any physical state she +chooses. The fortnight before Lillie went to Newport,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +she really looked pale, and ate next to nothing; and +she managed admirably to seem to be trying to keep +up, and not to complain,—yet you see how she can go +on at Newport.”</p> + +<p>“It seems a pity John couldn’t understand her.”</p> + +<p>“My dear, I wouldn’t have him for the world. Whenever +he does, he will despise her; and then he will be +wretched. For John is no hypocrite, any more than I +am. No, I earnestly pray that his soap-bubble may not +break.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said Letitia, “at least, he might go +down to Newport for a day or two; and his presence +there might set some things right: it might at least +check reports. You might just suggest to him that +unfriendly things were being said.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>So, by a little feminine tact in suggestion, Grace despatched +her brother to spend a day or two in Newport.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>His coming and presence interrupted the lounging +hours in Lillie’s room; the introduction to “my husband” +shortened the interviews. John was courteous +and affable; but he neither smoked nor drank, and +there was a mutual repulsion between him and many +of Lillie’s <i>habitués</i>.</p> + +<p>“I say, Dan,” said Bill Sanders to Danforth, as they +were smoking on one end of the veranda, “you are +driven out of your lodgings since Seymour came.”</p> + +<p>“No more than the rest of you,” said Danforth.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that, Dan. I think <i>you</i> might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +have been taken for master of those premises. Look +here now, Dan, why didn’t you <i>take</i> little Lill yourself? +Everybody thought you were going to last +year.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t want her; knew too much,” said Danforth. +“Didn’t want to keep her; she’s too cursedly extravagant. +It’s jolly to have this sort of concern on hand; +but I’d rather Seymour’d pay her bills than I.”</p> + +<p>“Who thought you were so practical, Dan?”</p> + +<p>“Practical! that I am; I’m an old bird. Take my +advice, boys, now: keep shy of the girls, and flirt with +the married ones,—then you don’t get roped in.”</p> + +<p>“I say, boys,” said Tom Nichols, “isn’t she a case, +now? What a head she has! I bet she can smoke +equal to any of us.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I keep her in cigarettes,” said Danforth; +“she’s got a box of them somewhere under her ruffles +now.”</p> + +<p>“What if Seymour should find them?” said Tom.</p> + +<p>“Seymour? pooh! he’s a muff and a prig. I bet +you he won’t find her out; she’s the jolliest little humbugger +there is going. She’d cheat a fellow out of +the sight of his eyes. It’s perfectly wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“How came Seymour to marry her?”</p> + +<p>“He? Why, he’s a pious youth, green as grass +itself; and I suppose she talked religion to him. Did +you ever hear her talk religion?”</p> + +<p>A roar of laughter followed this, out of which Danforth +went on. “By George, boys, she gave me a +prayer-book once! I’ve got it yet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, if that isn’t the best thing I ever heard!” +said Nichols.</p> + +<p>“It was at the time she was laying siege to me, you +see. She undertook the part of guardian angel, and +used to talk lots of sentiment. The girls get lots of +that out of George Sand’s novels about the <i>holiness</i> +of doing just as you’ve a mind to, and all that,” said +Danforth.</p> + +<p>“By George, Dan, you oughtn’t to laugh. She may +have more good in her than you think.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, humbug! don’t I know her?”</p> + +<p>“Well, at any rate she’s a wonderful creature to +hold her looks. By George! how she <i>does</i> hold out! +You’d say, now, she wasn’t more than twenty.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; she understands getting herself up,” said Danforth, +“and touches up her cheeks a bit now and then.”</p> + +<p>“She don’t paint, though?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t paint! <i>Don’t</i> she? I’d like to know if she +don’t; but she does it like an artist, like an old master, +in fact.”</p> + +<p>“Or like a young mistress,” said Tom, and then +laughed at his own wit.</p> + +<p>Now, it so happened that John was sitting at an +open window above, and heard occasional snatches of +this conversation quite sufficient to impress him disagreeably. +He had not heard enough to know exactly +what had been said, but enough to feel that a set of +coarse, low-minded men were making quite free with +the name and reputation of his Lillie; and he was +indignant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She is so pretty, so frank, and so impulsive,” he +said. “Such women are always misconstrued. I’m +resolved to caution her.”</p> + +<p>“Lillie,” he said, “who is this Danforth?”</p> + +<p>“Charlie Danforth—oh! he’s a millionnaire that I +refused. He was wild about me,—is now, for that +matter. He perfectly haunts my rooms, and is always +teasing me to ride with him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, if I were you, I wouldn’t have any +thing to do with him.”</p> + +<p>“John, I don’t mean to, any more than I can help. +I try to keep him off all I can; but one doesn’t want +to be rude, you know.”</p> + +<p>“My darling,” said John, “you little know the +wickedness of the world, and the cruel things that men +will allow themselves to say of women who are meaning +no harm. You can’t be too careful, Lillie.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I am careful. Mamma is here, you know, all +the while; and I never receive except she is present.”</p> + +<p>John sat abstractedly fingering the various objects +on the table; then he opened a drawer in the same +mechanical manner.</p> + +<p>“Why, Lillie! what’s this? what in the world are +these?”</p> + +<p>“O John! sure enough! well, there is something I +was going to ask you about. Danforth used always to +be sending me things, you know, before we were married,—flowers +and confectionery, and one thing or +other; and, since I have been here now, he has done +the same, and I really didn’t know what to do about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +it. You know I didn’t want to quarrel with him, or +get his ill-will; he’s a high-spirited fellow, and a man +one doesn’t want for an enemy; so I have just passed it +over easy as I could.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, a box of cigarettes!—of course, they +can be of no use to you.”</p> + +<p>“Of course: they are only a sort of curiosity that he +imports from Spain with his cigars.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a great mind to send them back to him myself,” +said John.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t, John! why, how it would look! as if +you were angry, or thought he meant something +wrong. No; I’ll contrive a way to give ’em back +without offending him. I am up to all such little +ways.”</p> + +<p>“Come, now,” she added, “don’t let’s be cross just +the little time you have to stay with me. I do wish +our house were not all torn up, so that I could go home +with you, and leave Newport and all its bothers behind.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, you could go, and stay with me at +Gracie’s,” said John, brightening at this proposition.</p> + +<p>“Dear Gracie,—so she has got a house all to herself; +how I shall miss her! but, really, John, I think she +will be happier. Since you would insist on revolutionizing +our house, you know”—</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, it was to please you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know it! but you know I begged you not to. +Well, John, I don’t think I should like to go in and +settle down on Grace; perhaps, as I am here, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +sea-air and bathing strengthens me so, we may as well +put it through. I will come home as soon as the house +is done.”</p> + +<p>“But perhaps you would want to go with me to +New York to select the furniture?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, the artist does all that! Charlie Ferrola will +give his orders to Simon & Sauls, and they will do +every thing up complete. It’s the way they all do—saves +lots of trouble.”</p> + +<p>John went home, after three days spent in Newport, +feeling that Lillie was somehow an injured fair one, and +that the envious world bore down always on beauty +and prosperity.</p> + +<p>But incidentally he heard and overheard much that +made him uneasy. He heard her admired as a “bully” +girl, a “fast one;” he heard of her smoking, he overheard +something about “painting.”</p> + +<p>The time was that John thought Lillie an embryo +angel,—an angel a little bewildered and gone astray, +and with wings a trifle the worse for the world’s wear,—but +essentially an angel of the same nature with his +own revered mother.</p> + +<p>Gradually the mercury had been falling in the tube +of his estimation. He had given up the angel; and +now to himself he called her “a silly little pussy,” but +he did it with a smile. It was such a neat, white, +graceful pussy; and all his own pussy too, and purred +and rubbed its little head on no coat-sleeve but +his,—of that he was certain. Only a bit silly. She +would still <i>fib</i> a little, John feared, especially when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +looked back to the chapter about her age,—and then, +perhaps, about the cigarettes.</p> + +<p>Well, she might, perhaps, in a wild, excited hour, +have smoked <i>one or two</i>, just for fun, and the thing had +been exaggerated. She had promised fairly to return +those cigarettes,—he dared not say to himself that he +feared she would not. He kept saying to himself that +she would. It was necessary to say this often to make +himself believe it.</p> + +<p>As to painting—well, John didn’t like to ask her, +because, what if she shouldn’t tell him the truth? +And, if she did paint, was it so great a sin, poor little +thing? he would watch, and bring her out of it. After +all, when the house was all finished and arranged, and +he got her back from Newport, there would be a long, +quiet, domestic winter at Springdale; and they would +get up their reading-circles, and he would set her to +improving her mind, and gradually the vision of this +empty, fashionable life would die out of her horizon, +and she would come into his ways of thinking and +doing.</p> + +<p>But, after all, John managed to be proud of her. +When he read in the columns of “The Herald” the +account of the Splandangerous ball in Newport, and of +the entrancingly beautiful Mrs. J. S., who appeared in +a radiant dress of silvery gauze made <i>à la nuage</i>, &c., +&c., John was rather pleased than otherwise. Lillie +danced till daylight,—it showed that she must be getting +back her strength,—and she was voted the belle +of the scene. Who wouldn’t take the comfort that is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +to be got in any thing? John owned this fashionable +meteor,—why shouldn’t he rejoice in it?</p> + +<p>Two years ago, had anybody told him that one day +he should have a wife that told fibs, and painted, and +smoked cigarettes, and danced all night at Newport, +and yet that he should love her, and be proud of +her, he would have said, Is thy servant a dog? He +was then a considerate, thoughtful John, serious and +careful in his life-plans; and the wife that was to be +his companion was something celestial. But so it is. +By degrees, we accommodate ourselves to the actual +and existing. To all intents and purposes, for us it is +the inevitable.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /> + +<small><i>HOME À LA POMPADOUR.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>WELL, Lillie came back at last; and John conducted +her over the transformed Seymour mansion, +where literally old things had passed away, and +all things become new.</p> + +<p>There was not a relic of the past. The house was +furbished and resplendent—it was gilded—it was +frescoed—it was <i>à la</i> Pompadour, and <i>à la</i> Louis +Quinze and Louis Quatorze, and <i>à la</i> every thing +Frenchy and pretty, and gay and glistening. For, +though the parlors at first were the only apartments +contemplated in this <i>renaissance</i>, yet it came to pass +that the parlors, when all tricked out, cast such invidious +reflections on the chambers that the chambers felt +themselves old and rubbishy, and prayed and stretched +out hands of imploration to have something done for +<i>them!</i></p> + +<p>So the spare chamber was first included in the glorification +programme; but, when the spare chamber was +once made into a Pompadour pavilion, it so flouted +and despised the other old-fashioned Yankee chambers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +that they were ready to die with envy; and, in short, +there was no way to produce a sense of artistic unity, +peace, and quietness, but to do the whole thing over, +which was done triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The French Emperor, Louis Napoleon, who was a +shrewd sort of a man in his day and way, used to talk +a great deal about the “logic of events;” which language, +being interpreted, my dear gentlemen, means a +good deal in domestic life. It means, for instance, that +when you drive the first nail, or tear down the first +board, in the way of alteration of an old house, you +will have to make over every room and corner in it, +and pay as much again for it as if you built a new one.</p> + +<p>John was able to sympathize with Lillie in her childish +delight in the new house, because he <i>loved</i> her, and +was able to put himself and his own wishes out of the +question for her sake; but, when all the bills connected +with this change came in, he had emotions with which +Lillie could not sympathize: first, because she knew +nothing about figures, and was resolved never to know +any thing; and, like all people who know nothing about +them, she cared nothing;—and, second, because she +did <i>not</i> love John.</p> + +<p>Now, the truth is, Lillie would have been quite astonished +to have been told this. She, and many other +women, suppose that they love their husbands, when, +unfortunately, they have not the beginning of an idea +what love is. Let me explain it to you, my dear lady. +Loving to be admired by a man, loving to be petted by +him, loving to be caressed by him, and loving to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +praised by him, is not loving a man. All these may be +when a woman has no power of loving at all,—they +may all be simply because she loves herself, and loves +to be flattered, praised, caressed, coaxed; as a cat likes +to be coaxed and stroked, and fed with cream, and have +a warm corner.</p> + +<p>But all this <i>is not love</i>. It may exist, to be sure, +where there <i>is</i> love; it generally does. But it may +also exist where there is no love. Love, my dear +ladies, is <i>self-sacrifice;</i> it is a life out of self and in +another. Its very essence is the preferring of the comfort, +the ease, the wishes of another to one’s own, <i>for +the</i> love we bear then? Love is giving, and not receiving. +Love is not a sheet of blotting-paper or a sponge, +sucking in every thing to itself; it is an out-springing +fountain, giving from itself. Love’s motto has been +dropped in this world as a chance gem of great price +by the loveliest, the fairest, the purest, the strongest of +Lovers that ever trod this mortal earth, of whom it is +recorded that He said, “It is more blessed to give than +to receive.” Now, in love, there are ten receivers to one +giver. There are ten persons in this world who like to +be loved and love love, where there is one who knows +<i>how to love</i>. That, O my dear ladies, is a nobler attainment +than all your French and music and dancing. +You may lose the very power of it by smothering it +under a load of early self-indulgence. By living just as +you are all wanting to live,—living to be petted, to be +flattered, to be admired, to be praised, to have your +own way, and to do only that which is easy and agreeable,—you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +may lose the power of self-denial and self-sacrifice; +you may lose the power of loving nobly and +worthily, and become a mere sheet of blotting-paper +all your life.</p> + +<p>You will please to observe that, in all the married +life of these two, as thus far told, all the accommodations, +compliances, changes, have been made by John +for Lillie.</p> + +<p><i>He</i> has been, step by step, giving up to her his +ideal of life, and trying, as far as so different a nature +can, to accommodate his to hers; and she accepts +all this as her right and due.</p> + +<p>She sees no particular cause of gratitude in it,—it is +what she expected when she married. Her own specialty, +the thing which she has always cultivated, is +to get that sort of power over man, by which she +can carry her own points and purposes, and make +him flexible to her will; nor does a suspicion of the +utter worthlessness and selfishness of such a life ever +darken the horizon of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>John’s bills were graver than he expected. It is +true he was rich; but riches is a relative term. As +related to the style of living hitherto practised in +his establishment, John’s income was princely, and left +a large balance to be devoted to works of general +benevolence; but he perceived that, in this year, that +balance would be all absorbed; and this troubled him.</p> + +<p>Then, again, his establishment being now given up +by his sister must be reorganized, with Lillie at its +head; and Lillie declared in the outset that she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +not, and would not, take any trouble about any +thing.</p> + +<p>“John would have to get servants; and the servants +would have to see to things:” she “was resolved, for one +thing, that she wasn’t going to be a slave to housekeeping.”</p> + +<p>By great pains and importunity, and an offer of high +wages, Grace and John retained Bridget in the establishment, +and secured from New York a seamstress and +a waitress, and other members to make out a domestic +staff.</p> + +<p>This sisterhood were from the isle of Erin, and not +an unfavorable specimen of that important portion +of our domestic life. They were quick-witted, well-versed +in a certain degree of household and domestic +skill, guided in well-doing more by impulsive good +feeling than by any very enlightened principle. The +dominant idea with them all appeared to be, that they +were living in the house of a millionnaire, where money +flowed through the establishment in a golden stream, +out of which all might drink freely and rejoicingly, +with no questions asked. Mrs. Lillie concerned herself +only with results, and paid no attention to ways and +means. She wanted a dainty and generous table to +be spread for her, at all proper hours, with every +pleasing and agreeable variety; to which she should +come as she would to the table of a boarding-house, +without troubling her head where any thing came from +or went to. Bridget, having been for some years under +the training and surveillance of Grace Seymour, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +more than usually competent as cook and provider; +but Bridget had abundance of the Irish astuteness, +which led her to feel the genius of circumstances, and +to shape her course accordingly.</p> + +<p>With Grace, she had been accurate, saving, and +economical; for Miss Grace was so. Bridget had felt, +under her sway, the beauty of that economy which +saves because saving is in itself so fitting and so +respectable; and because, in this way, a power for a +wise generosity is accumulated. She was sympathetic +with the ruling spirit of the establishment.</p> + +<p>But, under the new mistress, Bridget declined in +virtue. The announcement that the mistress of a +family isn’t going to give herself any trouble, nor +bother her head with care about any thing, is one +the influence of which is felt downward in every +department. Why should Bridget give herself any +trouble to save and economize for a mistress who took +none for herself? She had worked hard all her life, +why not take it easy? And it was so much easier +to send daily a basket of cold victuals to her cousin on +Vine Street than to contrive ways of making the most +of things, that Bridget felt perfectly justified in doing +it. If, once in a while, a little tea and a paper of +sugar found their way into the same basket, who would +ever miss it?</p> + +<p>The seamstress was an elegant lady. She kept all +Lillie’s dresses and laces and wardrobe, and had something +ready for her to put on when she changed her +toilet every day. If this very fine lady wore her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +mistress’s skirts and sashes, and laces and jewelry, on +the sly, to evening parties among the upper servant +circles of Springdale, who was to know it? Mrs. John +Seymour knew nothing about where her things were, +nor what was their condition, and never wanted to +trouble herself to inquire.</p> + +<p>It may therefore be inferred that when John began +to settle up accounts, and look into financial matters, +they seemed to him not to be going exactly in the +most promising way.</p> + +<p>He thought he would give Lillie a little practical +insight into his business,—show her exactly what his +income was, and make some estimates of his expenses, +just that she might have some little idea how things +were going.</p> + +<p>So John, with great care, prepared a nice little +account-book, prefaced by a table of figures, showing +the income of the Spindlewood property, and the income +of his law business, and his income from other sources. +Against this, he placed the necessary out-goes of his +business, and showed what balance might be left. Then +he showed what had hitherto been spent for various +benevolent purposes connected with the schools and +his establishments at Spindlewood. He showed what +had been the bills for the refitting of the house, and +what were now the running current expenses of the +family.</p> + +<p>He hoped that he had made all these so plain and +simple, that Lillie might easily be made to understand +them, and that thus some clear financial boundaries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +might appear in her mind. Then he seized a favorable +hour, and produced his book.</p> + +<p>“Lillie,” he said, “I want to make you understand a +little about our expenditures and income.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dreadful, John! don’t, pray! I never had any +head for things of that kind.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, <i>please</i> let me show you,” persisted John. +“I’ve made it just as simple as can be.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"> +<img src="images/i133.jpg" width="358" height="379" alt="young woman with hand on forehead looking away from man holding account book out to her" /> +<div class="caption">“I never had the least head for figures.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“O John! now—I just—can’t—there now! Don’t +bring that book now; it’ll just make me low-spirited +and cross. I never had the least head for figures;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +mamma always said so; and if there <i>is</i> any thing +that seems to me perfectly dreadful, it is accounts. I +don’t think it’s any of a woman’s business—it’s all +<i>man’s</i> work, and men have got to see to it. Now, +<i>please</i> don’t,” she added, coming to him coaxingly, +and putting her arm round his neck.</p> + +<p>“But, you see, Lillie,” John persevered, in a pleading +tone,—“you see, all these alterations that have been +made in the house have involved very serious expenses; +and then, too, we are living at a very different rate +of expense from what we ever lived before”—</p> + +<p>“There it is, John! Now, you oughtn’t to reproach +me with it; for you know it was your own idea. I didn’t +want the alterations made; but you would insist on it. +I didn’t think it was best; but you would have them.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, it was all because you wanted them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I dare say; but I shouldn’t have wanted +them if I thought it was going to bring in all this +bother and trouble, and make me have to look over old +accounts, and all such things. I’d rather never have +had any thing!” And here Lillie began to cry.</p> + +<p>“Come, now, my darling, do be a sensible woman, +and not act like a baby.”</p> + +<p>“There, John! it’s just as I knew it would be; I +always said you wanted a different sort of a woman for +a wife. Now, you knew when you took me that I +wasn’t in the least strong-minded or sensible, but a +poor little helpless thing; and you are beginning to +get tired of me already. You wish you had married a +woman like Grace, I know you do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Lillie, how silly! Please do listen, now. You +have no idea how simple and easy what I want to +explain to you is.”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, I can’t to-night, anyhow, because I +have a headache. Just this talk has got my head to +thumping so,—it’s really dreadful! and I’m so low-spirited! +I do wish you had a wife that would suit +you better.” And forthwith Mrs. Lillie dissolved in +tears; and John stroked her head, and petted her, and +called her a nice little pussy, and begged her pardon +for being so rough with her, and, in short, acted like a +fool generally.</p> + +<p>“If that woman was <i>my</i> wife now,” I fancy I hear +some youth with a promising moustache remark, “I’d +make her behave!”</p> + +<p>Well, sir, supposing she was your wife, what are you +going to do about it?</p> + +<p>What are you going to do when accounts give your +wife a sick headache, so that she cannot possibly attend +to them? Are you going to enact the Blue Beard, and +rage and storm, and threaten to cut her head off? +What good would that do? Cutting off a wrong little +head would not turn it into a right one. An ancient +proverb significantly remarks, “You can’t have more +of a cat than her skin,”—and no amount of fuming and +storming can make any thing more of a woman than +she is. <i>Such</i> as your wife is, sir, you must take her, +and make the best of it. Perhaps you want your own +way. Don’t you wish you could get it?</p> + +<p>But didn’t she promise to obey? Didn’t she? Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +course. Then why is it that I must be all the while +yielding points, and she never? Well, sir, that is for +you to settle. The marriage service gives you authority; +so does the law of the land. John could lock up +Mrs. Lillie till she learned her lessons; he could do any +of twenty other things that no gentleman would ever +think of doing, and the law would support him in it. +But, because John is a gentleman, and not Paddy from +Cork, he strokes his wife’s head, and submits.</p> + +<p>We understand that our brethren, the Methodists, +have recently decided to leave the word “obey” out of +the marriage-service. Our friends are, as all the world +knows, a most wise and prudent denomination, and +guided by a very practical sense in their arrangements. +If they have left the word “obey” out, it is because +they have concluded that it does no good to put it in,—a +decision that John’s experience would go a long +way to justify.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> + +<small><i>JOHN’S BIRTHDAY.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“MY dear Lillie,” quoth John one morning, “next +week Wednesday is my birthday.”</p> + +<p>“Is it? How charming! What shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, it has always been our custom—Grace’s +and mine—to give a grand <i>fête</i> here to all our +work-people. We invite them all over <i>en masse</i>, and +have the house and grounds all open, and devote ourselves +to giving them a good time.”</p> + +<p>Lillie’s countenance fell.</p> + +<p>“Now, really, John, how trying! what shall we do? +You don’t really propose to bring all those low, dirty, +little factory children in Spindlewood through our elegant +new house? Just look at that satin furniture, and +think what it will be when a whole parcel of freckled, +tow-headed, snubby-nosed children have eaten bread +and butter and doughnuts over it! Now, John, there +is reason in all things; <i>this</i> house is not made for a +missionary asylum.”</p> + +<p>John, thus admonished, looked at his house, and was +fain to admit that there was the usual amount of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +good, selfish, hard grit—called common sense—in +Lillie’s remarks.</p> + +<p>Rooms have their atmosphere, their necessities, their +artistic proprieties. Apartments <i>à la</i> Louis Quatorze +represent the ideas and the sympathies of a period +when the rich lived by themselves in luxury, and the +poor were trodden down in the gutter; when there was +only aristocratic contempt and domination on one side, +and servility and smothered curses on the other. With +the change of the apartments to the style of that past +era, seemed to come its maxims and morals, as artistically +indicated for its completeness. So John walked +up and down in his Louis Quinze <i>salon</i>, and into his +Pompadour <i>boudoir</i>, and out again into the Louis +Quatorze dining-rooms, and reflected. He had had +many reflections in those apartments before. Of all ill-adapted +and unsuitable pieces of furniture in them, he +had always felt himself the most unsuitable and ill-adapted. +He had never felt at home in them. He +never felt like lolling at ease on any of those elegant +sofas, as of old he used to cast himself into the motherly +arms of the great chintz one that filled the recess. His +Lillie, with her smart paraphernalia of hoops and puffs +and ruffles and pinkings and bows, seemed a perfectly +natural and indigenous production there; but he himself +seemed always to be out of place. His Lillie might +have been any of Balzac’s charming duchesses, with +their “thirty-seven thousand ways of saying ‘Yes;’” +but, as to himself, he must have been taken for her +steward or gardener, who had accidentally strayed in,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +and was fraying her satin surroundings with rough +coats and heavy boots. There was not, in fact, in all +the reorganized house, a place where he felt <i>himself</i> to +be at all the proper thing; nowhere where he could +lounge, and read his newspaper, without a feeling of +impropriety; nowhere that he could indulge in any +of the slight Hottentot-isms wherein unrenewed male +nature delights,—without a feeling of rebuke.</p> + +<p>John had not philosophized on the causes of this. +He knew, in a general and unconfessed way, that he +was not comfortable in his new arrangements; but +he supposed it was his own fault. He had fallen into +rusty, old-fashioned, bachelor ways; and, like other +things that are not agreeable to the natural man, he +supposed his trim, resplendent, genteel house was good +for him, and that he ought to like it, and by grace +should attain to liking it, if he only tried long enough.</p> + +<p>Only he took long rests every day while he went to +Grace’s, on Elm Street, and stretched himself on the +old sofa, and sat in his mother’s old arm-chair, and told +Grace how very elegant their house was, and how much +taste the architect had shown, and how much Lillie +was delighted with it.</p> + +<p>But this silent walk of John’s, up and down his brilliant +apartments, opened his eyes to another troublesome +prospect. He was a Christian man, with a high +aim and ideal in life. He believed in the Sermon on +the Mount, and other radical preaching of that nature; +and he was a very honest man, and hated humbug in +every shape. Nothing seemed meaner to him than to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +profess a sham. But it began in a cloudy way to appear +to him that there is a manner of arranging one’s +houses that makes it difficult—yes, well-nigh impossible—to +act out in them any of the brotherhood principles +of those discourses.</p> + +<p>There are houses where the self-respecting poor, or +the honest laboring man and woman, cannot be made +to enter or to feel at home. They are made for the +selfish luxury of the privileged few. Then John +reflected, uneasily, that this change in his house had +absorbed that whole balance which usually remained +on his accounts to be devoted to benevolent purposes, +and with which this year he had proposed to erect a +reading-room for his work-people.</p> + +<p>“Lillie,” said John, as he walked uneasily up and +down, “I wish you would try to help me in this thing. +I always have done it,—my father and mother did it +before me,—and I don’t want all of a sudden to depart +from it. It may seem a little thing, but it does a great +deal of good. It produces kind feeling; it refines and +educates and softens them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, John! if you say so, I must, I suppose,” +said Lillie, with a sigh. “I can have the carpets and +furniture all covered, I suppose; it’ll be no end of +trouble, but I’ll try. But I must say, I think all this +kind of petting of the working-classes does no sort of +good; it only makes them uppish and exacting: you +never get any gratitude for it.”</p> + +<p>“But you know, dearie, what is said about doing +good, ‘hoping for nothing again,’” said John.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, John, please don’t preach, of all things. +Haven’t I told you that I’ll try my best? I am going +to,—I’ll work with all my strength,—you know that +isn’t much,—but I shall exert myself to the utmost if +you say so.”</p> + +<p>“My dear, I don’t want you to injure yourself!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I don’t mind,” said Lillie, with the air of a +martyr. “The servants, I suppose, will make a fuss +about it; and I shouldn’t wonder if it was the means +of sending them every one off in a body, and leaving +me without any help in the house, just as the Follingsbees +and the Simpkinses are coming to visit us.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know that you had invited the Follingsbees +and Simpkinses,” said John.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I tell you? I meant to,” said Mrs. Lillie, +innocently.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like those Follingsbees, Lillie. He is a man +I have no respect for; he is one of those shoddy upstarts, +not at all our sort of folks. I’m sorry you asked +him.”</p> + +<p>“But his wife is my particular friend,” said Lillie, +“and they were very polite to mamma and me at Newport; +and we really owe them some attention.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, since you have asked them, I will be +polite to them; and I will try and do every thing +to save you care in this entertainment. I’ll speak to +Bridget myself; she knows our ways, and has been +used to managing.”</p> + +<p>And so, as John was greatly beloved by Bridget, and +as all the domestic staff had the true Irish fealty to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +man of the house, and would run themselves off their +feet in his service any day,—it came to pass that the +<i>fête</i> was holden, as of yore, in the grounds. Grace was +there and helped, and so were Letitia and Rose Ferguson; +and all passed off better than could be expected. +But John did not enjoy it. He felt all the while that +he was dragging Lillie as a thousand-pound weight +after him; and he inly resolved that, once out of that +day’s festival, he would never try to have it again.</p> + +<p>Lillie went to bed with sick headache, and lay two +days after it, during which she cried and lamented incessantly. +She “knew she was not the wife for John;” +she “always told him he wouldn’t be satisfied with her, +and now she saw he wasn’t; but she had tried her very +best, and now it was cruel to think she should not succeed +any better.”</p> + +<p>“My dearest child,” said John, who, to say the truth, +was beginning to find this thing less charming than it +used to be, “I <i>am</i> satisfied. I am much obliged to +you. I’m sure you have done all that could be asked.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m sure I hope those folks of yours were +pleased,” quoth Lillie, as she lay looking like a martyr, +with a cloth wet in ice-water bound round her head. +“They ought to be; they have left grease-spots all over +the sofa in my boudoir, from one end to the other; and +cake and raisins have been trodden into the carpets; +and the turf around the oval is all cut up; and they +have broken my little Diana; and such a din as there +was!—oh, me! it makes my head ache to think of it.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Lillie, I’ll see to it, and set it all right.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, you can’t. One of the children broke that +model of the Leaning Tower too. I found it. You +can’t teach such children to let things alone. Oh, dear +me! my head!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;"> +<img src="images/i143.jpg" width="404" height="372" alt="Girl in bed with man looking down at her" /> +<div class="caption">“Oh, me! it makes my head ache to think of it.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“There, there, pussy! only don’t worry,” said John, +in soothing tones.</p> + +<p>“Don’t think me horrid, <i>please</i> don’t,” said Lillie, piteously. +“I did try to have things go right; didn’t I?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly you did, dearie; so don’t worry. I’ll get +all the spots taken out, and all the things mended, and +make every thing right.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>So John called Rosa, on his way downstairs. “Show +me the sofa that they spoiled,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Sofa?” said Rosa.</p> + +<p>“Yes; I understand the children greased the sofa in +Mrs. Seymour’s boudoir.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, no! nothing of the sort; I’ve been putting +every thing to rights in all the rooms, and they +look beautifully.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t they break something?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, nothing! The little things were good as +could be.”</p> + +<p>“That Leaning Tower, and that little Diana,” suggested +John.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear me, no! I broke those a month ago, and +showed them to Mrs. Seymour, and promised to mend +them. Oh! she knows all about that.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said John, “I didn’t know that. Well, Rosa, +put every thing up nicely, and divide this money among +the girls for extra trouble,” he added, slipping a bill into +her hand.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure there’s no trouble,” said Rosa. “We all +enjoyed it; and I believe everybody did; only I’m +sorry it was too much for Mrs. Seymour; she is very +delicate.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is,” said John, as he turned away, drawing +a long, slow sigh.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>That long, slow sigh had become a frequent and unconscious +occurrence with him of late. When our ideals +are sick unto death; when they are slowly dying and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +passing away from us, we sigh thus. John said to himself +softly,—no matter what; but he felt the pang of +knowing again what he had known so often of late, +that his Lillie’s word was not golden. What she said +would not bear close examination. Therefore, why +examine?</p> + +<p>“Evidently, she is determined that this thing shall +not go on,” said John. “Well, I shall never try again; +it’s of no use;” and John went up to his sister’s, and +threw himself down upon the old chintz sofa as if it had +been his mother’s bosom. His sister sat there, sewing. +The sun came twinkling through a rustic frame-work of +ivy which it had been the pride of her heart to arrange +the week before. All the old family pictures and heirlooms, +and sketches and pencillings, were arranged in +the most charming way, so that her rooms seemed a +reproduction of the old home.</p> + +<p>“Hang it all!” said John, with a great flounce as he +turned over on the sofa. “I’m not up to par this +morning.”</p> + +<p>Now, Grace had that perfect intuitive knowledge of +just what the matter was with her brother, that women +always have who have grown up in intimacy with +a man. These fine female eyes see farther between the +rough cracks and ridges of the oak bark of manhood +than men themselves. Nothing would have been easier, +had Grace been a jealous <i>exigeante</i> woman, than to have +passed a fine probe of sisterly inquiry into the weak +places where the ties between John and Lillie were +growing slack, and untied and loosened them more and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +more. She could have done it so tenderly, so conscientiously, +so pityingly,—encouraging John to talk and to +complain, and taking part with him,—till there should +come to be two parties in the family, the brother and +sister against the wife.</p> + +<p>How strong the temptation was, those may feel who +reflect that this one subject caused an almost total +eclipse of the life-long habit of confidence which had +existed between Grace and her brother, and that her +brother was her life and her world.</p> + +<p>But Grace was one of those women formed under +the kindly severe discipline of Puritan New England, +to act not from blind impulse or instinct, but from +high principle. The habit of self-examination and self-inspection, +for which the religious teaching of New +England has been peculiar, produced a race of women +who rose superior to those mere feminine caprices +and impulses which often hurry very generous and +kindly-natured persons into ungenerous and dishonorable +conduct. Grace had been trained, by a father and +mother whose marriage union was an ideal of mutual +love, honor, and respect, to feel that marriage was the +holiest and most awful of obligations. To her, the idea +of a husband or a wife betraying each other’s weaknesses +or faults by complaints to a third party seemed +something sacrilegious; and she used all her womanly +tact and skill to prevent any conversation that might +lead to such a result.</p> + +<p>“Lillie is entirely knocked up by the affair yesterday; +she had a terrible headache this morning,” said John.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Poor child! She is a delicate little thing,” said +Grace.</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t have had any labor,” continued John, +“for I saw to every thing and provided every thing +myself; and Bridget and Rosa and all the girls entered +into it with real spirit, and Lillie did the best she could, +poor girl! but I could see all the time she was worrying +about her new fizgigs and folderols in the house. Hang +it! I wish they were all in the Red Sea!” burst out +John, glad to find something to vent himself upon. +“If I had known that making the house over was going +to be such a restraint on a fellow, I would never have +done it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well! never mind that now,” said Grace. +“Your house will get rubbed down by and by, and +the new gloss taken off; and so will your wife, and +you will all be cosey and easy as an old shoe. Young +mistresses, you see, have nerves all over their house at +first. They tremble at every dent in their furniture, +and wink when you come near it, as if you were going +to hit it a blow; but that wears off in time, and they +they learn to take it easy.”</p> + +<p>John looked relieved; but after a minute broke out +again:—</p> + +<p>“I say, Gracie, Lillie has gone and invited the Simpkinses +and the Follingsbees here this fall. Just think +of it!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose you expect your wife to have the +right of inviting her company,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“But, you know, Gracie, they are not at all our sort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +of folks,” said John. “None of our set would ever +think of visiting them, and it’ll seem so odd to see +them here. Follingsbee is a vulgar sharper, who has +made his money out of our country by dishonest contracts +during the war. I don’t know much about his +wife. Lillie says she is her intimate friend.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, John! we must get over it in the quietest +way possible. It wouldn’t be handsome not to make +the agreeable to your wife’s company; and if you don’t +like the quality of it, why, you are a good deal nearer +to her than any one else can be,—you can gradually +detach her from them.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think I ought to put a good face on their +coming?” said John, with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly! of course. What else can you do? +It’s one of the things to be expected with a young +wife.”</p> + +<p>“And do you think the Wilcoxes and the Fergusons +and the rest of our set will be civil?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course they will,” said Grace. “Rose and +Letitia will, certainly; and the others will follow suit. +After all, John, perhaps we old families, as we call ourselves, +are a little bit pharisaical and self-righteous, and +too apt to thank God that we are not as other men are. +It’ll do us good to be obliged to come a little out of +our crinkles.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t any old family feeling about Follingsbee,” +said John. “But I feel that that man deserves to +be in State’s prison much more than many a poor +dog that is there now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And that may be true of many another, even in +the selectest circles of good society,” said Grace; “but +we are not called on to play Providence, nor pronounce +judgments. The common courtesies of life do not +commit us one way or the other. The Lord himself +does not express his opinion of the wicked, but allows +all an equal share in his kindliness.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Gracie, you are right; and I’ll constrain +myself to do the thing handsomely,” said John.</p> + +<p>“The thing with you men,” said Grace, “is, that you +want your wives to see with your eyes, all in a minute, +what has got to come with years and intimacy, and the +gradual growing closer and closer together. The husband +and wife, of themselves, drop many friendships +and associations that at first were mutually distasteful, +simply because their tastes have grown insensibly to +be the same.”</p> + +<p>John hoped it would be so with himself and Lillie; +for he was still very much in love with her; and it +comforted him to have Grace speak so cheerfully, as if +it were possible.</p> + +<p>“You think Lillie will grow into our ways by and +by?”—he said inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“Well, if we have patience, and give her time. You +know, John, that you knew when you took her that she +had not been brought up in our ways of living and +thinking. Lillie comes from an entirely different set of +people from any we are accustomed to; but a man +must face all the consequences of his marriage honestly +and honorably.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I know it,” said John, with a sigh. “I say, Gracie, +do you think the Fergusons like Lillie? I want her to +be intimate with them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think they admire her,” said Grace, evasively, +“and feel disposed to be as intimate as she will +let them.”</p> + +<p>“Because,” said John, “Rose Ferguson is such a +splendid girl; she is so strong, and so generous, and +so perfectly true and reliable,—it would be the +joy of my heart if Lillie would choose her for a +friend.”</p> + +<p>“Then, pray don’t tell her so,” said Grace, earnestly; +“and don’t praise her to Lillie,—and, above all things, +never hold her up as a pattern, unless you want your +wife to hate her.”</p> + +<p>John opened his eyes very wide.</p> + +<p>“So!” said he, slowly, “I never thought of that. +You think she would be jealous?” and John smiled, as +men do at the idea that their wives may be jealous, not +disliking it on the whole.</p> + +<p>“I know I shouldn’t be in much charity with a +woman my husband proposed to me as a model; that +is to say, supposing I had one,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“That reminds me,” said John, suddenly rising up +from the sofa. “Do you know, Gracie, that Colonel +Sydenham has come back from his cruise?”</p> + +<p>“I had heard of it,” said Grace, quietly. “Now, +John, don’t interrupt me. I’m just going to turn this +corner, and must count,—‘one, two, three, four, five, +six,’”—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>John looked at his sister. “How handsome she +looks when her cheeks have that color!” he thought. +“I wonder if there ever was any thing in that affair +between them.”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> + +<small><i>A GREAT MORAL CONFLICT.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“NOW, John dear, I have something very particular +that I want you to promise me,” said Mrs. +Lillie, a day or two after the scenes last recorded. Our +Lillie had recovered her spirits, and got over her headache, +and had come down and done her best to be +delightful; and when a very pretty woman, who has all +her life studied the art of pleasing, does that, she +generally succeeds.</p> + +<p>John thought to himself he “didn’t care <i>what</i> she +was, he loved her;” and that she certainly was the +prettiest, most bewitching little creature on earth. He +flung his sighs and his doubts and fears to the wind, +and suffered himself to be coaxed, and cajoled, and led +captive, in the most amiable manner possible.</p> + +<p>His fair one had a point to carry,—a point that +instinct told her was to be managed with great adroitness.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said John, over his newspaper, “what is this +something so very particular?”</p> + +<p>“First, sir, put down that paper, and listen to me,” +said Mrs. Lillie, coming up and seating herself on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +knee, and sweeping down the offending paper with +an air of authority.</p> + +<p>“Yes’m,” said John, submissively. “Let’s see,—how +was that in the marriage service? I promised +to obey, didn’t I?”</p> + +<p>“Of course you did; that service is always interpreted +by contraries,—ever since Eve made Adam +mind her in the beginning,” said Mrs. Lillie, laughing.</p> + +<p>“And got things into a pretty mess in that way,” +said John; “but come, now, what is it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, you know the Follingsbees are coming +next week?”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said John, looking amiable and conciliatory.</p> + +<p>“Well, dear, there are some things about our establishment +that are not just as I should feel pleased +to receive them to.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said John; “why, Lillie, I thought we were +fine as a fiddle, from the top of the house to the +bottom.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! it’s not the house; the house is splendid. I +shouldn’t be in the least ashamed to show it to anybody; +but about the table arrangements.”</p> + +<p>“Now, really, Lillie, what can one have more than +real old china and heavy silver plate? I rather pique +myself on that; I think it has quite a good, rich, solid +old air.”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, to say the truth, why do we never have +any wine? I don’t care for it,—I never drink it; but +the decanters, and the different colored glasses, and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +the apparatus, are such an adornment; and then the +Follingsbees are such judges of wine. He imports his +own from Spain.”</p> + +<p>John’s face had been hardening down into a firm, +decided look, while Lillie, stroking his whiskers and +playing with his collar, went on with this address.</p> + +<p>At last he said, “Lillie, I have done almost every +thing you ever asked; but this one thing I cannot do,—it +is a matter of principle. I never drink wine, never +have it on my table, never give it, because I have +pledged myself not to do it.”</p> + +<p>“Now, John, here is some more of your Quixotism, +isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, I suppose you will call it so,” said +John; “but listen to me patiently. My father and I +labored for a long time to root out drinking from +our village at Spindlewood. It seemed, for the time, as +if it would be the destruction of every thing there. +The fact was, there was rum in every family; the +parents took it daily, the children learned to love +and long after it, by seeing the parents, and drinking +little sweetened remains at the bottoms of tumblers. +There were, every year, families broken up and destroyed, +and fine fellows going to the very devil, with +this thing; and so we made a movement to form a +temperance society. I paid lecturers, and finally lectured +myself. At last they said to me: ‘It’s all very +well for you rich people, that have twice as fine houses +and twice as many pleasures as we poor folks, to pick on +us for having a little something comfortable to drink in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +our houses. If we could afford your fine nice wines, +and all that, we wouldn’t drink whiskey. You must all +have your wine on the table; whiskey is the poor +man’s wine.’”</p> + +<p>“I think,” said Lillie, “they were abominably impertinent +to talk so to you. I should have told them so.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they thought I was impertinent in talking +to them about their private affairs,” said John; “but I +will tell you what I said to them. I said, ‘My good fellows, +I will clear my house and table of wine, if you will +clear yours of rum.’ On this agreement I formed a +temperance society; my father and I put our names at +the head of the list, and we got every man and boy +in Spindlewood. It was a complete victory; and, since +then, there hasn’t been a more temperate, thrifty set of +people in these United States.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t your mother object?”</p> + +<p>“My mother! no, indeed; I wish you could have +known my mother. It was no small sacrifice to her +and father. Not that they cared a penny for the wine +itself; but the poetry and hospitality of the thing, +the fine old cheery associations connected with it, +were a real sacrifice. But when we told my mother +how it was, she never hesitated a moment. All our +cellar of fine old wines was sent round as presents +to hospitals, except a little that we keep for sickness.”</p> + +<p>“Well, really!” said Lillie, in a dry, cool tone, “I +suppose it was very good of you, perfectly saintlike +and all that; but it does seem a great pity. Why +couldn’t these people take care of themselves? I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +don’t see why you should go on denying yourself just +to keep them in the ways of virtue.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s no self-denial now! I’m quite used to +it,” said John, cheerily. “I am young and strong, and +just as well as I can be, and don’t need wine; in fact, +I never think of it. The Fergusons, who are with +us in the Spindlewood business, took just the same +view of it, and did just as we did; and the Wilcoxes +joined us; in fact, all the good old families of our set +came into it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, couldn’t you, just while the Follingsbees are +here, do differently?”</p> + +<p>“No, Lillie; there’s my pledge, you see. No: it’s +really impossible.”</p> + +<p>Lillie frowned and looked disconsolate.</p> + +<p>“John, I really do think you are selfish; you don’t +seem to have any consideration for me at all. It’s +going to make it so disagreeable and uncomfortable for +me. The Follingsbees are accustomed to wine every +day. I’m perfectly ashamed not to give it to them.”</p> + +<p>“Do ’em good to fast awhile, then,” said John, +laughing like a hard-hearted monster. “You’ll see +they won’t suffer materially. Bridget makes splendid +coffee.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a shame to laugh at what troubles me, John. +The Follingsbees are my friends, and of course I want +to treat them handsomely.”</p> + +<p>“We will treat them just as handsomely as we treat +ourselves,” said John, “and mortal man or woman +ought not to ask more.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t care,” said Lillie, after a pause. “I hate +all these moral movements and society questions. They +are always in the way of people’s having a good time; +and I believe the world would wag just as well as +it does, if nobody had ever thought of them. People +will call you a real muff, John.”</p> + +<p>“How very terrible!” said John, laughing. “What +shall I do if I am called a muff? and what a jolly little +Mrs. Muff you will be!” he said, pinching her cheek.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t laugh, John,” said Lillie, pouting. +“You don’t know how things look in fashionable circles. +The Follingsbees are in the very highest circle. +They have lived in Paris, and been invited by the +Emperor.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t much opinion of Americans who live +in Paris and are invited by the Emperor,” said John. +“But, be that as it may, I shall do the best I can +for them, and Mr. Young says, ‘angels could no more;’ +so, good-by, puss: I must go to my office; and don’t +let’s talk about this any more.”</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>And John put on his cap and squared his broad +shoulders, and, marching off with a resolute stride, +went to his office, and had a most uncomfortable morning +of it. You see, my dear friends, that though +Nature has set the seal of sovereignty on man, in broad +shoulders and bushy beard; though he fortify and incase +himself in rough overcoats and heavy boots, and walk +with a dashing air, and whistle like a freeman, we all +know it is not an easy thing to wage a warfare with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +pretty little creature in lace cap and tiny slippers, who has +a faculty of looking very pensive and grieved, and making +up a sad little mouth, as if her heart were breaking.</p> + +<p>John never doubted that he was right, and in the +way of duty; and yet, though he braved it out so +stoutly with Lillie, and though he marched out from +her presence victoriously, as it were, with drums beating +and colors flying, yet there was a dismal sinking +of heart under it.</p> + +<p>“I’m right; I know I am. Of course I can’t give +up here; it’s a matter of principle, of honor,” he +said over and over to himself. “Perhaps if Lillie +had been here I never should have taken such a pledge; +but as I have, there’s no help for it.”</p> + +<p>Then he thought of what Lillie had suggested about +it’s looking niggardly in hospitality, and was angry +with himself for feeling uncomfortable. “What do +I care what Dick Follingsbee thinks?” said he to +himself: “a man that I despise; a cheat, and a swindler,—a +man of no principle. Lillie doesn’t know the +sacrifice it is to me to have such people in my house at +all. Hang it all! I wish Lillie was a little more like +the women I’ve been used to,—like Grace and Rose +and my mother. But, poor thing, I oughtn’t to blame +her, after all, for her unfortunate bringing up. But +it’s so nice to be with women that can understand +the grounds you go on. A man never wants to fight a +woman. I’d rather give up, hook and line, and let +Lillie have her own way in every thing. But then +it won’t do; a fellow must stop somewhere. Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +I’ll make it up in being a model of civility to these +confounded people that I wish were in the Red Sea. +Let’s see, I’ll ask Lillie if she don’t want to give +a party for them when they come. By George! she +shall have every thing her own way there,—send to +New York for the supper, turn the house topsy-turvy, +illuminate the grounds, and do any thing else she +can think of. Yes, yes, she shall have <i>carte blanche</i> +for every thing!”</p> + +<p>All which John told Mrs. Lillie when he returned to +dinner and found her enacting the depressed wife in a +most becoming lace cap and wrapper that made her +look like a suffering angel; and the treaty was sealed +with many kisses.</p> + +<p>“You shall have <i>carte blanche</i>, dearest,” he said, “for +every thing but what we were speaking of; and that +will content you, won’t it?”</p> + +<p>And Lillie, with lingering pensiveness, very graciously +acknowledged that it would; and seemed so touchingly +resigned, and made such a merit of her resignation, +that John told her she was an angel; in fact, he +had a sort of indistinct remorseful feeling that he was a +sort of cruel monster to deny her any thing. Lillie had +sense enough to see when she could do a thing, and +when she couldn’t. She had given up the case when +John went out in the morning, and so accepted the +treaty of peace with a good degree of cheerfulness; and +she was soon busy discussing the matter. “You see, +we’ve been invited everywhere, and haven’t given any +thing,” she said; “and this will do up our social obligations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +to everybody here. And then we can show off +our rooms; they really are made to give parties in.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, so they are,” said John, delighted to see her +smile again; “they seem adapted to that, and I don’t +doubt you’ll make a brilliant affair of it, Lillie.”</p> + +<p>“Trust me for that, John,” said Lillie. “I’ll show the +Follingsbees that something can be done here in +Springdale as well as in New York.” And so the great +question was settled.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br /> + +<i><small>THE FOLLINGSBEES ARRIVE.</small></i></h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 367px;"> +<img src="images/i161.jpg" width="367" height="419" alt="Couple walking in company" /> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Follingsbees.</span></div> +</div> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>NEXT week the Follingsbees alighted, so to speak, +from a cloud of glory. They came in their own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +carriage, and with their own horses; all in silk and +silver, purple and fine linen, “with rings on their +fingers and bells on their toes,” as the old song has it. +We pause to caution our readers that this last clause +is to be interpreted metaphorically.</p> + +<p>Springdale stood astonished. The quiet, respectable +old town had not seen any thing like it for many a long +day; the ostlers at the hotel talked of it; the boys +followed the carriage, and hung on the slats of the fence +to see the party alight, and said to one another in their +artless vocabulary, “Golly! ain’t it bully?”</p> + +<p>There was Mr. Dick Follingsbee, with a pair of +waxed, tow-colored moustaches like the French emperor’s, +and ever so much longer. He was a little, thin, +light-colored man, with a yellow complexion and sandy +hair; who, with the appendages aforesaid, looked like +some kind of large insect, with very long <i>antennæ</i>. +There was Mrs. Follingsbee,—a tall, handsome, dark-eyed, +dark-haired, dashing woman, French dressed from +the tip of her lace parasol to the toe of her boot. +There was Mademoiselle Thérèse, the French maid, an +inexpressibly fine lady; and there was <i>la petite</i> Marie, +Mrs. Follingsbee’s three-year-old hopeful, a lean, bright-eyed +little thing, with a great scarlet bow on her back +that made her look like a walking butterfly. On the +whole, the tableau of arrival was so impressive, that +Bridget and Annie, Rosa and all the kitchen cabinet, +were in a breathless state of excitement.</p> + +<p>“How do I find you, <i>ma chère?</i>” said Mrs. Follingsbee, +folding Lillie rapturously to her breast. “I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +been just dying to see you! How lovely every thing +looks! Oh, <i>ciel!</i> how like dear Paris!” she said, as she +was conducted into the parlor, and sunk upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>“Pretty well done, too, for America!” said Mr. Follingsbee, +gazing round, and settling his collar. Mr. +Follingsbee was one of the class of returned travellers +who always speak condescendingly of any thing American; +as, “so-so,” or “tolerable,” or “pretty fair,”—a +considerateness which goes a long way towards keeping +up the spirits of the country.</p> + +<p>“I say, Dick,” said his lady, “have you seen to the +bags and wraps?”</p> + +<p>“All right, madam.”</p> + +<p>“And my basket of medicines and the books?”</p> + +<p>“O. K.,” replied Dick, sententiously.</p> + +<p>“Oh! how often must I tell you not to use those +odious slang terms?” said his wife, reprovingly.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Mrs. John Seymour knows <i>me</i> of old,” said +Mr. Follingsbee, winking facetiously at Lillie. “We’ve +had many a jolly lark together; haven’t we, Lill?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly we have,” said Lillie, affably. “But +come, darling,” she added to Mrs. Follingsbee, “don’t +you want to be shown your room?”</p> + +<p>“Go it, then, my dearie; and I’ll toddle up with the +fol-de-rols and what-you-may-calls,” said the incorrigible +Dick. “There, wife, Mrs. John Seymour shall +go first, so that you shan’t be jealous of her and me. +You know we came pretty near being in interesting +relations ourselves at one time; didn’t we, now?” he +said with another wink.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is said that a thorough-paced naturalist can reconstruct +a whole animal from one specimen bone. In like +manner, we imagine that, from these few words of +dialogue, our expert readers can reconstruct Mr. and +Mrs. Follingsbee: he, vulgar, shallow, sharp, keen at a +bargain, and utterly without scruples; with a sort of +hilarious, animal good nature that was in a state of constant +ebullition. He was, as Richard Baxter said of a +better man, “always in that state of hilarity that another +would be in when he hath taken a cup too much.”</p> + +<p>Dick Follingsbee began life as a peddler. He was +now reputed to be master of untold wealth, kept a +yacht and race-horses, ran his own theatre, and patronized +the whole world and creation in general with a +jocular freedom. Mrs. Follingsbee had been a country +girl, with small early advantages, but considerable +ambition. She had married Dick Follingsbee, and +helped him up in the world, as a clever, ambitious +woman may. The last few years she had been spending +in Paris, improving her mind and manners in +reading Dumas’ and Madame George Sand’s novels, +and availing herself of such outskirt advantages of +the court of the Tuileries as industrious, pains-taking +Americans, not embarrassed by self-respect, may +command.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Follingsbee, like many another of our republicans +who besieged the purlieus of the late empire, +felt that a residence near the court, at a time when +every thing good and decent in France was hiding +in obscure corners, and every thing <i>parvenu</i> was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +wide awake and active, entitled her to speak as one +having authority concerning French character, French +manners and customs. This lady assumed the sentimental +literary <i>rôle</i>. She was always cultivating herself +in her own way; that is to say, she was assiduous +in what she called keeping up her French.</p> + +<p>In the opinion of many of her class of thinkers, +French is the key of the kingdom of heaven; and, of +course, it is worth one’s while to sell all that one +has to be possessed of it. Mrs. Follingsbee had not +been in the least backward to do this; but, as to +getting the golden key, she had not succeeded. She +had formed the acquaintance of many disreputable people; +she had read French novels and French plays +such as no well-bred French woman would suffer in +her family; she had lost such innocence and purity of +mind as she had to lose, and, after all, had <i>not</i> got the +French language.</p> + +<p>However, there are losses that do not trouble the +subject of them, because they bring insensibility. Just +as Mrs. Follingsbee’s ear was not delicate enough to +perceive that her rapid and confident French was not +Parisian, so also her conscience and moral sense were +not delicate enough to know that she had spent her +labor for “that which was not bread.” She had only +succeeded in acquiring such an air that, on a careless +survey, she might have been taken for one of the <i>demi-monde</i> +of Paris; while secretly she imagined herself +the fascinating heroine of a French romance.</p> + +<p>The friendship between Mrs. Follingsbee and Lillie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +was of the most impassioned nature; though, as both +of them were women of a good solid perception in +regard to their own material interests, there were +excellent reasons on both sides for this enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the immense wealth of the Follingsbees, +there were circles to which Mrs. Follingsbee +found it difficult to be admitted. With the usual +human perversity, these, of course, became exactly the +ones, and the only ones, she particularly cared for. +Her ambition was to pass beyond the ranks of the +“shoddy” aristocracy to those of the old-established +families. Now, the Seymours, the Fergusons, and the +Wilcoxes were families of this sort; and none of them +had ever cared to conceal the fact, that they did not +intend to know the Follingsbees. The marriage of +Lillie into the Seymour family was the opening of a +door; and Mrs. Follingsbee had been at Lillie’s feet +during her Newport campaign. On the other hand, +Lillie, having taken the sense of the situation at +Springdale, had cast her thoughts forward like a discreet +young woman, and perceived in advance of her +a very dull domestic winter, enlivened only by reading-circles +and such slow tea-parties as unsophisticated +Springdale found agreeable. The idea of a long visit +to the New-York alhambra of the Follingsbees in the +winter, with balls, parties, unlimited opera-boxes, was +not a thing to be disregarded; and so, when Mrs. Follingsbee +“<i>ma chèred</i>” Lillie, Lillie “my deared” Mrs. +Follingsbee: and the pair are to be seen at this blessed +moment sitting with their arms tenderly round each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +other’s waists on a <i>causeuse</i> in Mrs. Follingsbee’s dressing-room.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know, <i>mignonne</i>,” said Mrs. Follingsbee, +“how perfectly <i>ravissante</i> these apartments are! I’m +so glad poor Charlie did them so well for you. I laid +my commands on him, poor fellow!”</p> + +<p>“Pray, how does your affair with him get on?” said +Lillie.</p> + +<p>“O dearest! you’ve no conception what a trial it is to +me to keep him in the bounds of reason. He has such +struggles of mind about that stupid wife of his. Think +of it, my dear! a man like Charlie Ferrola, all poetry, +romance, ideality, tied to a woman who thinks of nothing +but her children’s teeth and bowels, and turns the +whole house into a nursery! Oh, I’ve no patience +with such people.”</p> + +<p>“Well, poor fellow! it’s a pity he ever got married,” +said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“Well, it would be all well enough if this sort of +woman ever would be reasonable; but they won’t. +They don’t in the least comprehend the necessities of +genius. They want to yoke Pegasus to a cart, you see. +Now, I understand Charlie perfectly. I could give him +that which he needs. I appreciate him. I make a +bower of peace and enjoyment for him, where his artistic +nature finds the repose it craves.”</p> + +<p>“And she pitches into him about you,” said Lillie, +not slow to perceive the true literal rendering of all +this.</p> + +<p>“Of course, <i>ma chère</i>,—tears him, rends him, lacerates<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +his soul; sometimes he comes to me in the most +dreadful states. Really, dear, I have apprehended +something quite awful! I shouldn’t in the least be +surprised if he should blow his brains out!”</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Follingsbee sighed deeply, gave a glance at +herself in an opposite mirror, and smoothed down a +bow pensively, as the prima donna at the grand opera +generally does when her lover is getting ready to stab +himself.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I don’t think he’s going to kill himself,” said +Mrs. Lillie, who, it must be understood, was secretly +somewhat sceptical about the power of her friend’s +charms, and looked on this little French romance with +the eye of an outsider: “never you believe that, dearest. +These men make dreadful tearings, and shocking +eyes and mouths; but they take pretty good care to +keep in the world, after all. You see, if a man’s dead, +there’s an end of all things; and I fancy they think of +that before they quite come to any thing decisive.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Chère étourdie</i>,” said Mrs. Follingsbee, regarding +Lillie with a pensive smile: “you are just your old self, I +see; you are now at the height of your power,—‘<i>jeune +Madame, un mari qui vous adore</i>,’ ready to put all +things under your feet. How can you feel for a worn, +lonely heart like mine, that sighs for congeniality?”</p> + +<p>“Bless me, now,” said Lillie, briskly; “you don’t tell +me that you’re going to be so silly as to get in love +with Charlie yourself! It’s all well enough to keep +these fellows on the tragic high ropes; but, if a woman +falls in love herself, there’s an end of her power. And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +darling, just think of it: you wouldn’t have married +that creature if you could; he’s poor as a rat, and +always will be; these desperately interesting fellows +always are. Now you have money without end; and +of course you have position; and your husband is a +man you can get any thing in the world out of.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! as to that, I don’t complain of Dick,” said +Mrs. Follingsbee: “he’s coarse and vulgar, to be sure, +but he never stands in my way, and I never stand in +his; and, as you say, he’s free about money. But still, +darling, sometimes it seems to me such a weary thing to +live without sympathy of soul! A marriage without +congeniality, <i>mon Dieu</i>, what is it? And then the +harsh, cold laws of human society prevent any relief. +They forbid natures that are made for each other from +being to each other what they can be.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that people will talk about you,” said +Lillie. “Well, I assure you, dearest, they <i>will</i> talk awfully, +if you are not very careful. I say this to you +frankly, as your friend, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, <i>ma petite!</i> you don’t need to tell me that. I +<i>am</i> careful,” said Mrs. Follingsbee. “I am always lecturing +Charlie, and showing him that we must keep up +<i>les convenances;</i> but is it not hard on us poor women +to lead always this repressed, secretive life?”</p> + +<p>“What made you marry Mr. Follingsbee?” said +Lillie, with apparent artlessness.</p> + +<p>“Darling, I was but a child. I was ignorant of the +mysteries of my own nature, of my capabilities. As +Charlie said to me the other day, we never learn what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +we are till some congenial soul unlocks the secret door +of our hearts. The fact is, dearest, that American society, +with its strait-laced, puritanical notions, bears +terribly hard on woman’s heart. Poor Charlie! he is +no less one of the victims of society.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nonsense!” said Lillie. “You take it too much +to heart. You mustn’t mind all these men say. They +are always being desperate and tragic. Charlie has +talked just so to me, time and time again. I understand +it all. He talked exactly so to me when he came +to Newport last summer. You must take matters easy, +my dear,—you, with your beauty, and your style, and +your money. Why, you can lead all New York captive! +Forty fellows like Charlie are not worth spoiling +one’s dinner for. Come, cheer up; positively I shan’t +let you be blue, <i>ma reine</i>. Let me ring for your maid +to dress you for dinner. <i>Au revoir.</i>”</p> + +<p>The fact was, that Mrs. Lillie, having formerly set +down this lovely Charlie on the list of her own adorers, +had small sympathy with the sentimental romance of her +friend.</p> + +<p>“What a fool she makes of herself!” she thought, as +she contemplated her own sylph-like figure and wonderful +freshness of complexion in the glass. “Don’t I +know Charlie Ferrola? he wants her to get him into +fashionable life, and knows the way to do it. To think +of that stout, middle-aged party imagining that Charlie +Ferrola’s going to die for her charms! it’s too funny! +How stout the dear old thing does get, to be sure!”</p> + +<p>It will be observed here that our dear Lillie did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +want for perspicacity. There is nothing so absolutely +clear-sighted, in certain directions, as selfishness. Entire +want of sympathy with others clears up one’s vision +astonishingly, and enables us to see all the weak +points and ridiculous places of our neighbors in the +most accurate manner possible.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 335px;"> +<img src="images/i171.jpg" width="335" height="412" alt="Man seated with paper" /> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Mr. Charlie Ferrola.</span></div> +</div> + +<p>As to Mr. Charlie Ferrola, our Lillie was certainly +in the right in respect to him. He was one of those +blossoms of male humanity that seem as expressly designed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +by nature for the ornamentation of ladies’ boudoirs, +as an Italian greyhound: he had precisely the +same graceful, shivery adaptation to live by petting and +caresses. His tastes were all so exquisite that it was +the most difficult thing in the world to keep him out of +misery a moment. He was in a chronic state of disgust +with something or other in our lower world from morning +till night.</p> + +<p>His profession was nominally that of architecture +and landscape gardening; but, in point of fact, consisted +in telling certain rich, <i>blasé</i>, stupid, fashionable +people how they could quickest get rid of their money. +He ruled despotically in the Follingsbee halls: he +bought and rejected pictures and jewelry, ordered and +sent off furniture, with the air of an absolute master; +amusing himself meanwhile with running a French +romance with the handsome mistress of the establishment. +As a consequence, he had not only opportunities +for much quiet feathering of his own nest, but the +<i>éclat</i> of always having the use of the Follingsbees’ +carriages, horses, and opera-boxes, and being the acknowledged +and supreme head of fashionable dictation. +Ladies sometimes pull caps for such charming individuals, +as we have seen in the case of Mrs. Follingsbee +and Lillie.</p> + +<p>For it is not to be supposed that Mrs. Follingsbee, +though she had assumed the gushing style with her +young friend, wanted spirit or perception on her part. +Her darling Lillie had left a nettle in her bosom which +rankled there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The vanity of these thin, light, watery blondes!” +she said to herself, as she looked into her own great +dark eyes in the mirror,—“thinking Charlie Ferrola +cares for her! I know just what he thinks of <i>her</i>, thank +heaven! Poor thing! Don’t you think Mrs. John Seymour +has gone off astonishingly since her marriage?” +she said to Thérèse.</p> + +<p>“<i>Mon Dieu, madame, q’oui</i>,” said the obedient tire-woman, +scraping the very back of her throat in her +zeal. “Madame Seymour has the real American +<i>maigreur</i>. These thin women, madame, they have no +substance; there is noting to them. For young girl, +they are charming; but, as woman, they are just noting +at all. Now, you will see, madame, what I tell you. +In a year or two, people shall ask, ‘Was she ever handsome?’ +But <i>you</i>, madame, you come to your prime +like great rose! Oh, dere is no comparison of you to +Mrs. John Seymour!”</p> + +<p>And Thérèse found her words highly acceptable, +after the manner of all her tribe, who prophesy smooth +things unto their mistresses.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined that the entertaining of Dick +Follingsbee was no small strain on the conjugal endurance +of our faithful John; but he was on duty, and +endured without flinching that gentleman’s free and +easy jokes and patronizing civilities.</p> + +<p>“I do wish, darling, you’d teach that creature not to +call you ‘Lillie’ in that abominably free manner,” he +said to his wife, the first day, after dinner.</p> + +<p>“Mercy on us, John! what can I do? All the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +knows that Dick Follingsbee’s an oddity; and everybody +agrees to take what he says for what it’s worth. +If I should go to putting on any airs, he’d behave ten +times worse than he does: the only way is, to pass it +over quietly, and not to seem to notice any thing he +says or does. My way is, to smile, and look gracious, +and act as if I hadn’t heard any thing but what is +perfectly proper.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a tremendous infliction, Lillie!”</p> + +<p>“Poor man! is it?” said Lillie, putting her arm +round his neck, and stroking his whiskers. “Well, +now, he’s a good man to bear it so well, so he is; and +they shan’t plague him long. But, John, you must +confess Mrs. Follingsbee is nice: poor woman! she is +mortified with the way Dick will go on; but she can’t +do any thing with him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can get on with her,” said John. In fact, +John was one of the men so loyal to women that his +path of virtue in regard to them always ran down hill. +Mrs. Follingsbee was handsome, and had a gift in +language, and some considerable tact in adapting herself +to her society; and, as she put forth all her powers +to win his admiration, she succeeded.</p> + +<p>Grace had done her part to assist John in his hospitable +intents, by securing the prompt co-operation of the +Fergusons. The very first evening after their arrival, +old Mrs. Ferguson, with Letitia and Rose, called, not +formally but socially, as had always been the custom +of the two families. Dick Follingsbee was out, enjoying +an evening cigar,—a circumstance on which John<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +secretly congratulated himself as a favorable feature in +the case. He felt instinctively a sort of uneasy responsibility +for his guests; and, judging the Fergusons by +himself, felt that their call was in some sort an act of +self-abnegation on his account; and he was anxious to +make it as easy as possible. Mrs. Follingsbee was presentable, +so he thought; but he dreaded the irrepressible +Dick, and had much the same feeling about him +that one has on presenting a pet spaniel or pointer in a +lady’s parlor,—there was no answering for what he +might say or do.</p> + +<p>The Fergusons were disposed to make themselves +most amiable to Mrs. Follingsbee; and, with this intent, +Miss Letitia started the subject of her Parisian experiences, +as being probably one where she would feel herself +especially at home. Mrs. Follingsbee of course +expanded in rapturous description, and was quite clever +and interesting.</p> + +<p>“You must feel quite a difference between that country +and this, in regard to facilities of living,” said Miss +Letitia.</p> + +<p>“Ah, indeed! do I not?” said Mrs. Follingsbee, casting +up her eyes. “Life here in America is in a state +of perfect disorganization.”</p> + +<p>“We are a young people here, madam,” said John. +“We haven’t had time to organize the smaller conveniences +of life.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Mrs. Follingsbee. +“Now, you men don’t feel it so very much; but it +bears hard on us poor women. Life here in America is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +perfect slavery to women,—a perfect dead grind. You +see there’s no career at all for a married woman in this +country, as there is in France. Marriage there opens a +brilliant prospect before a girl: it introduces her to the +world; it gives her wings. In America, it is clipping +her wings, chaining her down, shutting her up,—no +more gayety, no more admiration; nothing but cradles +and cribs, and bibs and tuckers, little narrowing, wearing, +domestic cares, hard, vulgar domestic slaveries: +and so our women lose their bloom and health and +freshness, and are moped to death.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t see the thing in that light, Mrs. Follingsbee,” +said old Mrs. Ferguson. “I don’t understand +this modern talk. I am sure, for one, I can say I have +had all the career I wanted ever since I married. You +know, dear, when one begins to have children, one’s +heart goes into them: we find nothing hard that we do +for the dear little things. I’ve heard that the Parisian +ladies never nurse their own babies. From my very +heart, I pity them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear madam!” said Mrs. Follingsbee, “why +insist upon it that a cultivated, intelligent woman shall +waste some of the most beautiful years of her life in a +mere animal function, that, after all, any healthy peasant +can perform better than she? The French are +a philosophical nation; and, in Paris, you see, this thing +is all systematic: it’s altogether better for the child. +It’s taken to the country, and put to nurse with a good +strong woman, who makes that her only business. She +just lives to be a good animal, you see, and so is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +better one than a more intellectual being can be; thus +she gives the child a strong constitution, which is the +main thing.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Letitia; “I was told, when in Paris, +that this system is universal. The dressmaker, who +works at so much a day, sends her child out to nurse as +certainly as the woman of rank and fashion. There are +no babies, as a rule, in French households.”</p> + +<p>“And you see how good this is for the mother,” said +Mrs. Follingsbee. “The first year or two of a child’s +life it is nothing but a little animal; and one person +can do for it about as well as another: and all this +time, while it is growing physically, the mother has +for art, for self-cultivation, for society, and for literature. +Of course she keeps her eye on her child, and +visits it often enough to know that all goes right +with it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Letitia; “and the same philosophical +spirit regulates the education of the child throughout. +An American gentleman, who wished to live in Paris, +told me that, having searched all over it, he could not +accommodate his family, including himself and wife +and two children, without taking <i>two</i> of the suites that +are usually let to one family. The reason, he inferred, +was the perfection of the system which keeps the +French family reduced in numbers. The babies are +out at nurse, sometimes till two, and sometimes till +three years of age; and, at seven or eight, the girl goes +into a pension, and the boy into a college, till they are +ready to be taken out,—the girl to be married, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +boy to enter a profession: so the leisure of parents for +literature, art, and society is preserved.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me the most perfectly dreary, dreadful +way of living I ever heard of,” said Mrs. Ferguson, +with unwonted energy. “How I pity people who +know so little of real happiness!”</p> + +<p>“Yet the French are dotingly fond of children,” said +Mrs. Follingsbee. “It’s a national peculiarity; you +can see it in all their literature. Don’t you remember +Victor Hugo’s exquisite description of a mother’s feelings +for a little child in ‘Notre Dame de Paris’? I never +read any thing more affecting; it’s perfectly subduing.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t love their children as I did mine,” said +Mrs. Ferguson: “it’s impossible; and, if that’s what’s +called organizing society, I hope our society in America +never will be organized. It can’t be that children are +well taken care of on that system. I always attended +to every thing for my babies <i>myself;</i> because I felt God +had put them into my hands perfectly helpless; and, if +there is any thing difficult or disagreeable in the case, +how can I expect to <i>hire</i> a woman for money to be +faithful in what I cannot do for love?”</p> + +<p>“But don’t you think, dear madam, that this system +of personal devotion to children may be carried too +far?” said Mrs. Follingsbee. “Perhaps in France +they may go to an extreme; but don’t our American +women, as a rule, sacrifice themselves too much to their +families?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Sacrifice!</i>” said Mrs. Ferguson. “How can we? +Our children are our new life. We live in them a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +thousand times more than we could in ourselves. No, +I think a mother that doesn’t take care of her own baby +misses the greatest happiness a woman can know. A +baby isn’t a mere animal; and it is a great and solemn +thing to see the coming of an immortal soul into it +from day to day. My very happiest hours have been +spent with my babies in my arms.”</p> + +<p>“There may be women constituted so as to enjoy it,” +said Mrs. Follingsbee; “but you must allow that there +is a vast difference among women.”</p> + +<p>“There certainly is,” said Mrs. Ferguson, as she rose +with a frigid courtesy, and shortened the call. “My +dear girls,” said the old lady to her daughters, when +they returned home, “I disapprove of that woman. I +am very sorry that pretty little Mrs. Seymour has so +bad a friend and adviser. Why, the woman talks like +a Fejee Islander! Baby a mere animal, to be sure! it +puts me out of temper to hear such talk. The woman +talks as if she had never heard of such a thing as love +in her life, and don’t know what it means.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, mamma!” said Rose, “you know we are +old-fashioned folks, and not up to modern improvements.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Miss Letitia, “I should think that that +poor little weird child of Mrs. Follingsbee’s, with the +great red bow on her back, had been brought up on +this system. Yesterday afternoon I saw her in the +garden, with that maid of hers, apparently enjoying a +free fight. They looked like a pair of goblins,—an old +and a young one. I never saw any thing like it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What a pity!” said Rose; “for she’s a smart, +bright little thing; and it’s cunning to hear her talk +French.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Ferguson, straightening her back, +and sitting up with a grand air: “I am one of eight +children that my mother nursed herself at her own +breast, and lived to a good honorable old age after it. +People called her a handsome woman at sixty: she +could ride and walk and dance with the best; and +nobody kept up a keener interest in reading or general +literature. Her conversation was sought by the most +eminent men of the day as something remarkable. +She was always with her children: we always knew +we had her to run to at any moment; and we were the +first thing with her. She lived a happy, loving, useful +life; and her children rose up and called her blessed.”</p> + +<p>“As we do you, dear mamma,” said Rose, kissing +her: “so don’t be oratorical, darling mammy; because +we are all of your mind here.”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> + +<small><i>MRS. JOHN SEYMOUR’S PARTY, AND WHAT CAME +OF IT.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MRS. JOHN SEYMOUR’S party marked an era +in the annals of Springdale. Of this, you may +be sure, my dear reader, when you consider that it +was projected and arranged by Mrs. Lillie, in strict +counsel with her friend Mrs. Follingsbee, who had lived +in Paris, and been to balls at the Tuileries. Of course, +it was a tip-top New-York-Paris party, with all the +new, fashionable, unspeakable crinkles and wrinkles, all +the high, divine, spick and span new ways of doing +things; which, however, like the Eleusinian mysteries, +being in their very nature incommunicable except to +the elect, must be left to the imagination.</p> + +<p>A French <i>artiste</i>, whom Mrs. Follingsbee patronized +as “my confectioner,” came in state to Springdale, with +a retinue of appendages and servants sufficient for a +circus; took formal possession of the Seymour mansion, +and became, for the time being, absolute dictator, as +was customary in the old Roman Republic in times +of emergency.</p> + +<p>Mr. Follingsbee was forward, fussy, and advisory, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +his own peculiar free-and-easy fashion; and Mrs. Follingsbee +was instructive and patronizing to the very +last degree. Lillie had bewailed in her sympathizing +bosom John’s unaccountable and most singular moral +Quixotism in regard to the wine question, and been +comforted by her appreciative discourse. Mrs. Follingsbee +had a sort of indefinite faith in French phrases for +mending all the broken places in life. A thing said +partly in French became at once in her view elucidated, +even though the words meant no more than the same +in English; so she consoled Lillie as follows:—</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>ma chère!</i> I understand perfectly: your husband +may be ‘<i>un peu borné</i>,’ as they say in Paris, but +still ‘<i>un homme très respectable</i>,’ (Mrs. Follingsbee here +scraped her throat emphatically, just as her French +maid did),—a sublime example of the virtues; and let +me tell you, darling, you are very fortunate to get such +a man. It is not often that a woman can get an establishment +like yours, and a good man into the bargain; +so, if the goodness is a little <i>ennuyeuse</i>, one must put +up with it. Then, again, people of old established +standing may do about what they like socially: their +position is made. People only say, ‘Well, that is their +way; the Seymours will do so and so.’ Now, we have +to do twice as much of every thing to make our position, +as certain other people do. We might flood our +place with champagne and Burgundy, and get all the +young fellows drunk, as we generally do; and yet people +will call our parties ‘<i>bourgeois</i>,’ and yours ‘<i>recherché</i>,’ +if you give them nothing but tea and biscuit. Now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +there’s my Dick: he respects your husband; you can +see he does. In his odious slang way, he says he’s +‘some’ and ‘a brick;’ and he’s a little anxious to please +him, though he professes not to care for anybody. Now, +Dick has pretty sharp sense, after all, or he’d never +have been just where he is.”</p> + +<p>Our friend John, during these days preceding the +party, the party itself and the clearing up after it, +enacted submissively that part of unconditional surrender +which the master of the house, if well trained, +generally acts on such occasions. He resembled the +prize ox, which is led forth adorned with garlands, +ribbons, and docility, to grace a triumphal procession. +He went where he was told, did as he was bid, marched +to the right, marched to the left, put on gloves and +cravat, and took them off, entirely submissive to the +word of his little general; and exhibited, in short, an +edifying spectacle of that pleasant domestic animal, a +tame husband. He had to make atonement for being +a reformer, and for endeavoring to live like a Christian, +by conceding to his wife all this latitude of indulgence; +and he meant to go through it like a man and a philosopher. +To be sure, in his eyes, it was all so much +unutterable bosh and nonsense; and bosh and nonsense +for which he was eventually to settle the bills: but he +armed himself with the patient reflection that all things +have their end in time,—that fireworks and Chinese +lanterns, bands of music and kid gloves, ruffs and puffs, +and pinkings and quillings, and all sorts of unspeakable +eatables with French names, would ere long float down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +the stream of time, and leave their record only in a +few bad colds and days of indigestion, which also time +would mercifully cure.</p> + +<p>So John steadied his soul with a view of that comfortable +future, when all this fuss should be over, and +the coast cleared for something better. Moreover, +John found this good result of his patience: that he +learned a little something in a Christian way by it. +Men of elevated principle and moral honesty often treat +themselves to such large slices of contempt and indignation, +in regard to the rogues of society, as to forget +a common brotherhood of pity. It is sometimes wholesome +for such men to be obliged to tolerate a scamp to +the extent of exchanging with him the ordinary benevolences +of social life.</p> + +<p>John, in discharging the duty of a host to Dick Follingsbee, +found himself, after a while, looking on him +with pity, as a poor creature, like the rich fool in the +Gospels, without faith, or love, or prayer; spending life +as a moth does,—in vain attempts to burn himself up +in the candle, and knowing nothing better. In fact, +after a while, the stiff, tow-colored moustache, smart +stride, and flippant air of this poor little man struck +him somewhere in the region between a smile and a +tear; and his enforced hospitality began to wear a +tincture of real kindness. There is no less pathos in +moral than in physical imbecility.</p> + +<p>It is an observable social phenomenon that, when +any family in a community makes an advance very +greatly ahead of its neighbors in style of living or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +splendor of entertainments, the fact causes great +searchings of spirit in all the region round about, and +abundance of talk, wherein the thoughts of many hearts +are revealed.</p> + +<p>Springdale was a country town, containing a choice +knot of the old, respectable, true-blue, Boston-aristocracy +families. Two or three of them had winter houses +in Beacon Street, and went there, after Christmas, to +enjoy the lectures, concerts, and select gayeties of the +modern Athens; others, like the Fergusons and Seymours, +were in intimate relationship with the same +circle.</p> + +<p>Now, it is well known that the real old true-blue, +Simon-pure, Boston family is one whose claims to be +considered “the thing,” and the only thing, are somewhat +like the claim of apostolic succession in ancient +churches. It is easy to see why certain affluent, cultivated, +and eminently well-conducted people should be +considered “the thing” in their day and generation; +but why they should be considered as the “only thing” +is the point insoluble to human reason, and to be +received by faith alone; also, why certain other people, +equally affluent, cultivated, and well-conducted are <i>not</i> +“the thing” is one of the divine mysteries, about +which whoso observes Boston society will do well not +too curiously to exercise his reason.</p> + +<p>These “true-blue” families, however, have claims to +respectability; which make them, on the whole, quite +a venerable and pleasurable feature of society in our +young, topsy-turvy, American community. Some of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +them have family records extending clearly back to the +settlement of Massachusetts Bay; and the family estate +is still on grounds first cleared up by aboriginal settlers. +Being of a Puritan nobility, they have an ancestral +record, affording more legitimate subject of family self-esteem +than most other nobility. Their history runs +back to an ancestry of unworldly faith and prayer and +self-denial, of incorruptible public virtue, sturdy resistance +of evil, and pursuit of good.</p> + +<p>There is also a literary aroma pervading their circles. +Dim suggestions of “The North American Review,” of +“The Dial,” of Cambridge,—a sort of vague “<i>miel-fleur</i>” +of authorship and poetry,—is supposed to float +in the air around them; and it is generally understood +that in their homes exist tastes and appreciations denied +to less favored regions. Almost every one of them has +its great man,—its father, grandfather, cousin, or great +uncle, who wrote a book, or edited a review, or was a +president of the United States, or minister to England, +whose opinions are referred to by the family in any +discussion, as good Christians quote the Bible.</p> + +<p>It is true that, in some few instances, the <i>pleroma</i> +of aristocratic dignity undergoes a sort of acetic fermentation, +and comes out in ungenial qualities. Now +and then, at a public watering-place, a man or woman +appears no otherwise distinguished than by a remarkable +talent for being disagreeable; and it is amusing to +find, on inquiry, that this repulsiveness of demeanor +is entirely on account of belonging to an ancient +family.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such is the tendency of democracy to a general +mingling of elements, that this frigidity is deemed +necessary by these good souls to prevent the commonalty +from being attracted by them, and sticking to +them, as straws and bits of paper do to amber. But +more generally the “true-blue” old families are simple +and urbane in their manners; and their pretensions are, +as Miss Edgeworth says, presented rather <i>intaglio</i> than +in cameo. Of course, they most thoroughly believe in +themselves, but in a bland and genial way. “<i>Noblesse +oblige</i>” is with them a secret spring of gentle address +and social suavity. They prefer their own set and +their own ways, and are comfortably sure that what +they do not know is not worth knowing, and what they +have not been in the habit of doing is not worth +doing; but still they are indulgent of the existence +of human nature outside of their own circle.</p> + +<p>The Seymours and the Fergusons belonged to this +sort of people; and, of course, Mr. John Seymour’s +marriage afforded them opportunity for some wholesome +moral discipline. The Ferguson girls were frank, +social, magnanimous young women; of that class, to +whom the saying or doing of a rude or unhandsome +thing by any human being was an utter impossibility, +and whose cheeks would flush at the mere idea of +asserting personal superiority over any one. Nevertheless, +they trod the earth firmly, as girls who felt that +they were born to a certain position. Judge Ferguson +was a gentleman of the old school, devoted to past +ideas, fond of the English classics, and with small faith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +in any literature later than Dr. Johnson. He confessed +to a toleration for Scott’s novels, and had been detected +by his children both laughing and crying over the +stories of Charles Dickens; for the amiable weaknesses +of human nature still remain in the best regulated +mind. To women and children, the judge was benignity +itself, imitating the Grand Monarque, who bowed +even to a chambermaid. He believed in good, orderly, +respectable, old ways and entertainments, and had a +quiet horror of all that is loud or noisy or pretentious; +which sometimes made his social duties a trial to +him, as was the case in regard to the Seymour party.</p> + +<p>The arrangements of the party, including the preparations +for an extensive illumination of the grounds, +and fireworks, were on so unusual a scale as to rouse +the whole community of Springdale to a fever of +excitement; of course, the Wilcoxes and the Lennoxes +were astonished and disgusted. When had it been +known that any of their set had done any thing of +the kind? How horribly out of taste! Just the result +of John Seymour’s marrying into that class of society! +Mrs. Lennox was of opinion that she ought not to +go. She was of the determined and spicy order of +human beings, and often, like a certain French countess, +felt disposed to thank Heaven that she generally succeeded +in being rude when the occasion required. Mrs. +Lennox regarded “snubbing” in the light of a moral +duty devolving on people of condition, when the foundations +of things were in danger of being removed by +the inroads of the vulgar commonalty. On the present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +occasion, Mrs. Lennox was of opinion that quiet, respectable +people, of good family, ought to ignore this kind of +proceeding, and not think of encouraging such things +by their presence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilcox generally shaped her course by Mrs. +Lennox: still she had promised Letitia Ferguson to +be gracious to the Seymours in their exigency, and +to call on the Follingsbees; so there was a confusion +all round. The young people of both families +declared that <i>they</i> were going, just to see the fun. +Bob Lennox, with the usual vivacity of Young America, +said he didn’t “care a hang who set a ball rolling, +if only something was kept stirring.” The subject was +discussed when Mrs. Lennox and Mrs. Wilcox were +making a morning call upon the Fergusons.</p> + +<p>“For my part,” said Mrs. Lennox, “I’m principled on +this subject. Those Follingsbees are not proper people. +They are of just that vulgar, pushing class, against +which I feel it my duty to set my face like a flint; and +I’m astonished that a man like John Seymour should +go into relations with them. You see it puts all his +friends in a most embarrassing position.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Mrs. Lennox,” said Rose Ferguson, “indeed, +it is not Mr. Seymour’s fault. These persons are invited +by his wife.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what business has he to allow his wife to +invite them? A man should be master in his own +house.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear Mrs. Lennox,” said Mrs. Ferguson, +“such a pretty young creature, and just married! of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +course it would be unhandsome not to allow her to +have her friends.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Judge Ferguson, “a gentleman +cannot be rude to his wife’s invited guests; for my +part, I think Seymour is putting the best face he can +on it; and we must all do what we can to help him. +We shall all attend the Seymour party.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “I think we shall go. +To be sure, it is not what I should like to do. I don’t +approve of these Follingsbees. Mr. Wilcox was saying, +this morning, that his money was made by frauds +on the government, which ought to have put him in +the State Prison.”</p> + +<p>“Now, I say,” said Mrs. Lennox, “such people ought +to be put down socially: I have no patience with +their airs. And that Mrs. Follingsbee, I have heard +that she was a milliner, or shop-girl, or some such +thing; and to see the airs she gives herself! One +would think it was the Empress Eugénie herself, come +to queen it over us in America. I can’t help thinking +we ought to take a stand. I really do.”</p> + +<p>“But, dear Mrs. Lennox, we are not obliged to +cultivate further relations with people, simply from +exchanging ordinary civilities with them on one evening,” +said Judge Ferguson.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear sir, these pushing, vulgar, rich people +take advantage of every opening. Give them an inch, +and they will take an ell,” said Mrs Lennox. “Now, if I +go, they will be claiming acquaintance with me in Newport +next summer. Well, I shall cut them,—dead.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Trust you for that,” said Miss Letitia, laughing; +“indeed, Mrs. Lennox, I think you may go wherever +you please with perfect safety. People will never saddle +themselves on you longer than you want them; so +you might as well go to the party with the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>“And besides, you know,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “all +our young people will go, whether we go or not. Your +Tom was at my house yesterday; and he is going with +my girls: they are all just as wild about it as they +can be, and say that it is the greatest fun that has been +heard of this summer.”</p> + +<p>In fact, there was not a man, woman, or child, in a +circle of fifteen miles round, who could show shade or +color of an invitation, who was not out in full dress at +Mrs. John Seymour’s party. People in a city may pick +and choose their entertainments, and she who gives a +party there may reckon on a falling off of about one-third, +for various other attractions; but in the country, +where there is nothing else stirring, one may be sure +that not one person able to stand on his feet will be +missing. A party in a good old sleepy, respectable +country place is a godsend. It is equal to an earthquake, +for suggesting materials of conversation; and in +so many ways does it awaken and vivify the community, +that one may doubt whether, after all, it is not a moral +benefaction, and the giver of it one to be ranked in the +noble army of martyrs.</p> + +<p>Everybody went. Even Mrs. Lennox, when she had +sufficiently swallowed her moral principles, sent in all +haste to New York for an elegant spick and span new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +dress from Madame de Tullegig’s, expressly for the +occasion. Was she to be outshone by unprincipled +upstarts? Perish the thought! It was treason to the +cause of virtue, and the standing order of society. Of +course, the best thing to be done is to put certain people +down, if you can; but, if you cannot do that, the +next best thing is to outshine them in their own way. +It may be very naughty for them to be so dressy +and extravagant, and very absurd, improper, immoral, +unnecessary, and in bad taste; but still, if you cannot +help it, you may as well try to do the same, and do a +little more of it. Mrs. Lennox was in a feverish state +till all her trappings came from New York. The bill +was something stunning; but, then, it was voted by the +young people that she had never looked so splendidly +in her life; and she comforted herself with marking out +a certain sublime distance and reserve of manner to be +observed towards Mrs. Seymour and the Follingsbees.</p> + +<p>The young people, however, came home delighted. +Tom, aged twenty-two, instructed his mother that Follingsbee +was a brick, and a real jolly fellow; and he +had accepted an invitation to go on a yachting cruise +with him the next month. Jane Lennox, moreover, +began besetting her mother to have certain details in +their house rearranged, with an eye to the Seymour +glorification.</p> + +<p>“Now, Jane dear, that’s just the result of allowing +you to visit in this flash, vulgar genteel society,” said +the troubled mamma.</p> + +<p>“Bless your heart, mamma, the world moves on, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +know; and we must move with it a little, or be left +behind. For my part, I’m perfectly ashamed of the +way we let things go at our house. It really is not +respectable. Now, I like Mrs. Follingsbee, for my part: +she’s clever and amusing. It was fun to hear all about +the balls at the Tuileries, and the opera and things in +Paris. Mamma, when are we going to Paris?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I don’t know, my dear; you must ask your +father. He is very unwilling to go abroad.”</p> + +<p>“Papa is so slow and conservative in his notions!” +said the young lady. “For my part, I cannot see +what is the use of all this talk about the Follingsbees. +He is good-natured and funny; and, I am sure, I think +she’s a splendid woman: and, by the way, she gave me +the address of lots of places in New York where we +can get French things. Did you notice her lace? It +is superb; and she told me where lace just like it could +be bought one-third less than they sell at Stewart’s.”</p> + +<p>Thus we see how the starting-out of an old, respectable +family in any new ebullition of fancy and fashion +is like a dandelion going to seed. You have not only +the airy, fairy globe; but every feathery particle thereof +bears a germ which will cause similar feather bubbles +all over the country; and thus old, respectable grass-plots +become, in time, half dandelion. It is to be +observed that, in all questions of life and fashion, “the +world and the flesh,” to say nothing of the third partner +of that ancient firm, have us at decided advantage. +It is easy to see the flash of jewelry, the dazzle of color, +the rush and glitter of equipage, and to be dizzied by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +the babble and gayety of fashionable life; while it is +not easy to see justice, patience, temperance, self-denial. +These are things belonging to the invisible and the eternal, +and to be seen with other eyes than those of the +body.</p> + +<p>Then, again, there is no one thing in all the items +which go to make up fashionable extravagance, which, +taken separately and by itself, is not in some point of +view a good or pretty or desirable thing; and so, whenever +the forces of invisible morality begin an encounter +with the troops of fashion and folly, the world and the +flesh, as we have just said, generally have the best +of it.</p> + +<p>It may be very shocking and dreadful to get money +by cheating and lying; but when the money thus got +is put into the forms of yachts, operas, pictures, statues, +and splendid entertainments, of which you are freely +offered a share if you will only cultivate the acquaintance +of a sharper, will you not then begin to say, +“Everybody is going, why not I? As to countenancing +Dives, why he is countenanced; and my holding out +does no good. What is the use of my sitting in my +corner and sulking? Nobody minds me.” Thus Dives +gains one after another to follow his chariot, and make +up his court.</p> + +<p>Our friend John, simply by being a loving, indulgent +husband, had come into the position, in some measure, +of demoralizing the public conscience, of bringing in +luxury and extravagance, and countenancing people +who really ought not to be countenanced. He had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +sort of uneasy perception of this fact; yet, at each particular +step, he seemed to himself to be doing no more +than was right or reasonable. It was a fact that, +through all Springdale, people were beginning to be +uneasy and uncomfortable in houses that used to seem +to them nice enough, and ashamed of a style of dress +and entertainment and living that used to content them +perfectly, simply because of the changes of style and +living in the John-Seymour mansion.</p> + +<p>Of old, the Seymour family had always been a +bulwark on the side of a temperate self-restraint and +reticence in worldly indulgence; of a kind that parents +find most useful to strengthen their hands when children +are urging them on to expenses beyond their means: +for they could say, “The Seymours are richer than we +are, and you see they don’t change their carpets, nor get +new sofas, nor give extravagant parties; and they give +simple, reasonable, quiet entertainments, and do not go +into any modern follies.” So the Seymours kept up the +Fergusons, and the Fergusons the Seymours; and the +Wilcoxes and the Lennoxes encouraged each other in +a style of quiet, reasonable living, saving money for +charity, and time for reading and self-cultivation, and +by moderation and simplicity keeping up the courage +of less wealthy neighbors to hold their own with +them.</p> + +<p>The John-Seymour party, therefore, was like the +bursting of a great dam, which floods a whole region. +There was not a family who had not some trouble with +the inundation, even where, like Rose and Letitia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +Ferguson, they swept it out merrily, and thought no +more of it.</p> + +<p>“It was all very pretty and pleasant, and I’m glad it +went off so well,” said Rose Ferguson the next day; +“but I have not the smallest desire to repeat any thing +of the kind. We who live in the country, and have +such a world of beautiful things around us every day, +and so many charming engagements in riding, walking, +and rambling, and so much to do, cannot afford to +go into this sort of thing: we really have not time +for it.”</p> + +<p>“That pretty creature,” said Mrs. Ferguson, speaking +of Lillie, “is really a charming object. I hope she will +settle down now to domestic life. She will soon find +better things to care for, I trust: a baby would be her +best teacher. I am sure I hope she will have one.”</p> + +<p>“A baby is mamma’s infallible recipe for strengthening +the character,” said Rose, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Well, as the saying is, they bring love with +them,” said Mrs. Ferguson; “and love always brings +wisdom.”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> + +<small><i>AFTER THE BATTLE.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>“WELL, Grace, the Follingsbees are gone at last, +I am thankful to say,” said John, as he +stretched himself out on the sofa in Grace’s parlor with +a sigh of relief. “If ever I am caught in such a scrape +again, I shall know it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is all well over,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“Over! I wish you would look at the bills. Why, +Gracie! I had not the least idea, when I gave Lillie +leave to get what she chose, what it would come to, +with those people at her elbow, to put things into her +head. I could not interfere, you know, after the thing +was started; and I thought I would not spoil Lillie’s +pleasure, especially as I had to stand firm in not allowing +wine. It was well I did; for if wine had been +given, and taken with the reckless freedom that all the +rest was, it might have ended in a general riot.”</p> + +<p>“As some of the great fashionable parties do, where +young women get merry with champagne, and young +men get drunk,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said John, “I don’t exactly like the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +turn of the way things have been going at our house +lately. I don’t like the influence of it on others. It is +not in the line of the life I want to lead, and that we +have all been trying to lead.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Gracie, “things will be settled now +quietly, I hope.”</p> + +<p>“I say,” said John, “could not we start our little +reading sociables, that were so pleasant last year? You +know we want to keep some little pleasant thing going, +and draw Lillie in with us. When a girl has been used +to lively society, she can’t come down to mere nothing; +and I am afraid she will be wanting to rush off to New +York, and visit the Follingsbees.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Grace, “Letitia and Rose were speaking +the other day of that, and wanting to begin. You +know we were to read Froude together, as soon as the +evenings got a little longer.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! that will be capital,” said John.</p> + +<p>“Do you think Lillie will be interested in Froude?” +asked Grace.</p> + +<p>“I really can’t say,” said John, with some doubting +of heart; “perhaps it would be well to begin with +something a little lighter, at first.”</p> + +<p>“Any thing you please, John. What shall it be?”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want to hold you all back on my account,” +said John.</p> + +<p>“Well, then again, John, there’s our old study-club. +The Fergusons and Mr. Mathews were talking it over +the other night, and wondering when you would be +ready to join us. We were going to take up Lecky’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +‘History of Morals,’ and have our sessions Tuesday +evenings,—one Tuesday at their house, and the other +at mine, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I should enjoy that, of all things,” said John; “but +I know it is of no use to ask Lillie: it would only be +the most dreadful bore to her.”</p> + +<p>“And you couldn’t come without her, of course,” +said Grace.</p> + +<p>“Of course not; that would be too cruel, to leave +the poor little thing at home alone.”</p> + +<p>“Lillie strikes me as being naturally clever,” said +Grace; “if she only would bring her mind to enter +into your tastes a little, I’m sure you would find her +capable.”</p> + +<p>“But, Gracie, you’ve no conception how very different +her sphere of thought is, how entirely out of the +line of our ways of thinking. I’ll tell you,” said John, +“don’t wait for me. You have your Tuesdays, and go +on with your Lecky; and I will keep a copy at home, +and read up with you. And I will bring Lillie in the +evening, after the reading is over; and we will have a +little music and lively talk, and a dance or charade, you +know: then perhaps her mind will wake up by degrees.”</p> + +<p class='center'> +<span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>After tea in the Seymour parlor. John at a table, reading.<br /> +Lillie in a corner, embroidering.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Lillie.</i> “Look here, John, I want to ask you something.”</p> + +<p><i>John</i>,—putting down his book, and crossing to her, +“Well, dear?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lillie.</i> “There, would you make a green leaf there, +or a brown one?”</p> + +<p><i>John</i>,—endeavoring to look wise, “Well, a brown +one.”</p> + +<p><i>Lillie.</i> “That’s just like you, John; now, don’t you +see that a brown one would just spoil the effect?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! would it?” said John, innocently. “Well, +what did you ask me for?”</p> + +<p>“Why, you tiresome creature! I wanted you to say +something. What are you sitting moping over a book +for? You don’t entertain me a bit.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Lillie, I have been talking about every thing +I could think of,” said John, apologetically.</p> + +<p>“Well, I want you to keep on talking, and put up +that great heavy book. What is it, any way?”</p> + +<p>“Lecky’s ‘History of Morals,’” said John.</p> + +<p>“How dreadful! do you really mean to read it?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly; we are all reading it.”</p> + +<p>“Who all?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Gracie, and Letitia and Rose Ferguson.”</p> + +<p>“Rose Ferguson? I don’t believe it. Why, Rose +isn’t twenty yet! She cannot care about such stuff.”</p> + +<p>“She does care, and enjoys it too,” said John, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity, then, you didn’t get her for a wife +instead of me,” said Lillie, in a tone of pique.</p> + +<p>Now, this sort of thing does well enough occasionally, +said by a pretty woman, perfectly sure of her ground, +in the early days of the honey-moon; but for steady +domestic diet is not to be recommended. Husbands get +tired of swearing allegiance over and over; and John<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +returned to his book quietly, without reply. He did not +like the suggestion; and he thought that it was in very +poor taste. Lillie embroidered in silence a few minutes, +and then threw down her work pettishly.</p> + +<p>“How close this room is!”</p> + +<p>John read on.</p> + +<p>“John, do open the door!”</p> + +<p>John rose, opened the door, and returned to his book.</p> + +<p>“Now, there’s that draft from the hall-window. John, +you’ll have to shut the door.”</p> + +<p>John shut it, and read on.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear me!” said Lillie, throwing herself down +with a portentous yawn. “I do think this is dreadful!”</p> + +<p>“What is dreadful?” said John, looking up.</p> + +<p>“It is dreadful to be buried alive here in this gloomy +town of Springdale, where there is nothing to see, and +nowhere to go, and nothing going on.”</p> + +<p>“We have always flattered ourselves that Springdale +was a most attractive place,” said John. “I don’t know +of any place where there are more beautiful walks and +rambles.”</p> + +<p>“But I detest walking in the country. What is +there to see? And you get your shoes muddy, and +burrs on your clothes, and don’t meet a creature! I +got so tired the other day when Grace and Rose Ferguson +would drag me off to what they call ‘the glen.’ +They kept oh-ing and ah-ing and exclaiming to each +other about some stupid thing every step of the way,—old +pokey nutgalls, bare twigs of trees, and red and yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +leaves, and ferns! I do wish you could have seen +the armful of trash that those two girls carried into +their respective houses. I would not have such stuff in +mine for any thing. I am tired of all this talk about +Nature. I am free to confess that I don’t like Nature, +and do like art; and I wish we only lived in New +York, where there is something to amuse one.”</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 314px;"> +<img src="images/i202.jpg" width="314" height="392" alt="girl under parasol" /> +<div class="caption">“But I detest walking in the country.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Well, Lillie dear, I am sorry; but we don’t live +in New York, and are not likely to,” said John.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t we? Mrs. Follingsbee said that a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +in your profession, and with your talents, could command +a fortune in New York.”</p> + +<p>“If it would give me the mines of Golconda, I would +not go there,” said John.</p> + +<p>“How stupid of you! You know you would, though.”</p> + +<p>“No, Lillie; I would not leave Springdale for any +money.”</p> + +<p>“That is because you think of nobody but yourself,” +said Lillie. “Men are always selfish.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, it is because I have so many here +depending on me, of whom I am bound to think more +than myself,” said John.</p> + +<p>“That dreadful mission-work of yours, I suppose,” +said Lillie; “that always stands in the way of having +a good time.”</p> + +<p>“Lillie,” said John, shutting his book, and looking at +her, “what is your ideal of a good time?”</p> + +<p>“Why, having something amusing going on all the +time,—something bright and lively, to keep one in +good spirits,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“I thought that you would have enough of that with +your party and all,” said John.</p> + +<p>“Well, now it’s all over, and duller than ever,” said +Lillie. “I think a little spirit of gayety makes it seem +duller by contrast.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, Lillie,” said John, “you see there are women, +who live right here in Springdale, who are all the time +busy, interested, and happy, with only such sources of +enjoyment as are to be found here. Their time does +not hang heavy on their hands; in fact, it is too short +for all they wish to do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>“They are different from me,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“Then, since you must live here,” said John, “could +you not learn to be like them? Could you not acquire +some of these tastes that make simple country life +agreeable?”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t; I never could,” said Lillie, pettishly.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said John, “I don’t see that anybody can +help your being unhappy.” And, opening his book, he +sat down, and began to read.</p> + +<p>Lillie pouted awhile, and then drew from under the +sofa-pillow a copy of “Indiana;” and, establishing her +feet on the fender, she began to read.</p> + +<p>Lillie had acquired at school the doubtful talent of +reading French with facility, and was soon deep in the +fascinating pages, whose theme is the usual one of +French novels,—a young wife, tired of domestic monotony, +with an unappreciative husband, solacing herself +with the devotion of a lover. Lillie felt a sort of +pique with her husband. He was evidently unappreciative: +he was thinking of all sorts of things more +than of her, and growing stupid, as husbands in French +romances generally do. She thought of her handsome +Cousin Harry, the only man that she ever came anywhere +near being in love with; and the image of his +dark, handsome eyes and glossy curls gave a sort of +piquancy to the story.</p> + +<p>John got deeply interested in his book; and, looking +up from time to time, was relieved to find that Lillie +had something to employ her.</p> + +<p>“I may as well make a beginning,” he said to himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +“I must have my time for reading; and she must +learn to amuse herself.”</p> + +<p>After a while, however, he peeped over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Why, darling!” he said, “where did you get that?”</p> + +<p>“It is Mrs. Follingsbee’s,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“Dear, it is a bad book,” said John. “Don’t read it.”</p> + +<p>“It amuses me, and helps pass away time,” said +Lillie; “and I don’t think it is bad: it is beautiful. +Besides, you read what amuses you; and it is a pity if +I can’t read what amuses me.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to see you like to read French,” continued +John; “and I can get you some delightful +French stories, which are not only pretty and witty, +but have nothing in them that tend to pull down +one’s moral principles. Edmond About’s ‘Mariages de +Paris’ and ‘Tolla’ are charming French things; and, +as he says, they might be read aloud by a man between +his mother and his sister, without a shade of offence.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Lillie. “You had +better go to Rose Ferguson, and get her to give you a +list of the kinds of books she prefers.”</p> + +<p>“Lillie!” said John, severely, “your remarks about +Rose are in bad taste. I must beg you to discontinue +them. There are subjects that never ought to be +jested about.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir, for your moral lessons,” said Lillie, +turning her back on him defiantly, putting her feet on +the fender, and going on with her reading.</p> + +<p>John seated himself, and went on with his book in +silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, this mode of passing a domestic evening is +certainly not agreeable to either party; but we sustain +the thesis that in this sort of interior warfare the +woman has generally the best of it. When it comes to +the science of annoyance, commend us to the lovely sex! +Their methods have a <i>finesse</i>, a suppleness, a universal +adaptability, that does them infinite credit; and man, +with all his strength, and all his majesty, and his commanding +talent, is about as well off as a buffalo or a +bison against a tiny, rainbow-winged gnat or mosquito, +who bites, sings, and stings everywhere at once, with +an infinite grace and facility.</p> + +<p>A woman without magnanimity, without generosity, +who has no love, and whom a man loves, is a terrible +antagonist. To give up or to fight often seems equally +impossible.</p> + +<p>How is a man going to make a woman have a good +time, who is determined not to have it? Lillie had +sense enough to see, that, if she settled down into enjoyment +of the little agreeablenesses and domesticities +of the winter society in Springdale, she should lose her +battle, and John would keep her there for life. The +only way was to keep him as uncomfortable as possible +without really breaking her power over him.</p> + +<p>In the long-run, in these encounters of will, the +woman has every advantage. The constant dropping +that wears away the stone has passed into a proverb.</p> + +<p>Lillie meant to go to New York, and have a long +campaign at the Follingsbees. The thing had been +all promised and arranged between them; and it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +necessary that she should appear sufficiently miserable, +and that John should be made sufficiently uncomfortable, +to consent with effusion, at last, when her intentions +were announced.</p> + +<p>These purposes were not distinctly stated to herself; +for, as we have before intimated, uncultivated natures, +who have never thought for a serious moment on self-education, +or the way their character is forming, act +purely from a sort of instinct, and do not even in their +own minds fairly and squarely face their own motives +and purposes; if they only did, their good angel would +wear a less dejected look than he generally must.</p> + +<p>Lillie had power enough, in that small circle, to stop +and interrupt almost all its comfortable literary culture. +The reading of Froude was given up. John could not +go to the study club; and, after an evening or two of +trying to read up at home, he used to stay an hour later +at his office. Lillie would go with him on Tuesday evening, +after the readings were over; and then it was understood +that all parties were to devote themselves to +making the evening pass agreeable to her. She was to +be put forward, kept in the foreground, and every thing +arranged to make her appear the queen of the <i>fête</i>. +They had tableaux, where Rose made Lillie into marvellous +pictures, which all admired and praised. They +had little dances, which Lillie thought rather stupid and +humdrum, because they were not <i>en grande toilette;</i> +yet Lillie always made a great merit of putting up with +her life at Springdale. A pleasant English writer has +a lively paper on the advantages of being a “cantankerous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +fool,” in which he goes to show that men or women +of inferior moral parts, little self-control, and great +selfishness, often acquire an absolute dominion over +the circle in which they move, merely by the exercise +of these traits. Every one being anxious to please and +pacify them, and keep the peace with them, there is a +constant succession of anxious compliances and compromises +going on around them; by all of which they +are benefited in getting their own will and way.</p> + +<p>The one person who will not give up, and cannot be +expected to be considerate or accommodating, comes at +last to rule the whole circle. He is counted on like the +fixed facts of nature; everybody else must turn out for +him. So Lillie reigned in Springdale. In every little +social gathering where she appeared, the one uneasy +question was, would she have a good time, and anxious +provision made to that end. Lillie had declared that +reading aloud was a bore, which was definitive against +reading-parties. She liked to play and sing; so that +was always a part of the programme. Lillie sang well, +but needed a great deal of urging. Her throat was apt +to be sore; and she took pains to say that the harsh +winter weather in Springdale was ruining her voice. A +good part of an evening was often spent in supplications +before she could be induced to make the endeavor.</p> + +<p>Lillie had taken up the whim of being jealous of Rose. +Jealousy is said to be a sign of love. We hold another +theory, and consider it more properly a sign of +selfishness. Look at noble-hearted, unselfish women, +and ask if they are easily made jealous. Look, again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +at a woman who in her whole life shows no disposition +to deny herself for her husband, or to enter into his +tastes and views and feelings: are not such as she the +most frequently jealous?</p> + +<p>Her husband, in her view, is a piece of her property; +every look, word, and thought which he gives to any +body or thing else is a part of her private possessions, +unjustly withheld from her.</p> + +<p>Independently of that, Lillie felt the instinctive +jealousy which a <i>passée</i> queen of beauty sometimes +has for a young rival.</p> + +<p>She had eyes to see that Rose was daily growing +more and more beautiful; and not all that young girl’s +considerateness, her self-forgetfulness, her persistent +endeavors to put Lillie forward, and make her the +queen of the hour, could disguise this fact. Lillie +was a keen-sighted little body, and saw, at a glance, +that, once launched into society together, Rose would +carry the day; all the more that no thought of any day +to be carried was in her head.</p> + +<p>Rose Ferguson had one source of attraction which +is as great a natural gift as beauty, and which, when +it is found with beauty, makes it perfectly irresistible; +to wit, perfect unconsciousness of self. This is a +wholly different trait from unselfishness: it is not a +moral virtue, attained by voluntary effort, but a constitutional +gift, and a very great one. Fénelon praises +it as a Christian grace, under the name of simplicity; +but we incline to consider it only as an advantage of +natural organization. There are many excellent Christians<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +who are haunted by themselves, and in some form +or other are always busy with themselves; either conscientiously +pondering the right and wrong of their +actions, or approbatively sensitive to the opinions of +others, or æsthetically comparing their appearance and +manners with an interior standard; while there are +others who have received the gift, beyond the artist’s +eye or the musician’s ear, of perfect self-forgetfulness. +Their religion lacks the element of conflict, and comes +to them by simple impulse.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">“Glad souls, without reproach or blot,</div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who do His will, and know it not.”</span></div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Rose had a frank, open joyousness of nature, that +shed around her a healthy charm, like fine, breezy +weather, or a bright morning; making every one feel as +if to be good were the most natural thing in the world. +She seemed to be thinking always and directly of +matters in hand, of things to be done, and subjects +under discussion, as much as if she were an impersonal +being.</p> + +<p>She had been educated with every solid advantage +which old Boston can give to her nicest girls; and that +is saying a good deal. Returning to a country home +at an early age, she had been made the companion +of her father; entering into all his literary tastes, and +receiving constantly, from association with him, that +manly influence which a woman’s mind needs to develop +its completeness. Living the whole year in the country, +the Fergusons developed within themselves a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +multiplicity of resources. They read and studied, and +discussed subjects with their father; for, as we all +know, the discussion of moral and social questions has +been from the first, and always will be, a prime source +of amusement in New-England families; and many of +them keep up, with great spirit, a family debating +society, in which whoever hath a psalm, a doctrine, +or an interpretation, has free course.</p> + +<p>Rose had never been into fashionable life, technically +so called. She had not been brought out: there never +had been a mile-stone set up to mark the place where +“her education was finished;” and so she had gone +on unconsciously,—studying, reading, drawing, and +cultivating herself from year to year, with her head +and hands always so full of pleasurable schemes and +plans, that there really seemed to be no room for any +thing else. We have seen with what interest she +co-operated with Grace in the various good works +of the factory village in which her father held shares, +where her activity found abundant scope, and her +beauty and grace of manner made her a sort of idol.</p> + +<p>Rose had once or twice in her life been awakened to +self-consciousness, by applicants rapping at the front +door of her heart; but she answered with such a +kind, frank, earnest, “No, I thank you, sir,” as made +friends of her lovers; and she entered at once into +pleasant relations with them. Her nature was so +healthy, and free from all morbid suggestion; her yes +and no so perfectly frank and positive, that there +seemed no possibility of any tragedy caused by her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Why did not John fall in love with Rose? Why +did not he, O most sapient senate of womanhood? Why +did not your brother fall in love with that nice girl you +know of, who grew up with you all at his very elbow, +and was, as everybody else could see, just the proper +person for him?</p> + +<p>Well, why didn’t he? There is the doctrine of +election. “The election hath obtained it; and the +rest were blinded.” John was some six years older +than Rose. He had romped with her as a little girl, +drawn her on his sled, picked up her hair-pins, and +worn her tippet, when they had skated together as +girl and boy. They had made each other Christmas +and New Year’s presents all their lives; and, to say +the truth, loved each other honestly and truly: nevertheless, +John fell in love with Lillie, and married her. +Did you ever know a case like it?</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> + +<small><i>A BRICK TURNS UP.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE snow had been all night falling silently over +the long elm avenues of Springdale.</p> + +<p>It was one of those soft, moist, dreamy snow-falls, +which come down in great loose feathers, resting in +magical frost-work on every tree, shrub, and plant, +and seeming to bring down with it the purity and +peace of upper worlds.</p> + +<p>Grace’s little cottage on Elm Street was imbosomed, +as New-England cottages are apt to be, in a tangle +of shrubbery, evergreens, syringas, and lilacs; which, +on such occasions, become bowers of enchantment when +the morning sun looks through them.</p> + +<p>Grace came into her parlor, which was cheery with +the dazzling sunshine, and, running to the window, +began to examine anxiously the state of her various +greeneries, pausing from time to time to look out +admiringly at the wonderful snow-landscape, with its +many tremulous tints of rose, lilac, and amethyst.</p> + +<p>The only thing wanting was some one to speak +to about it; and, with a half sigh, she thought of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +the good old times when John would come to her +chamber-door in the morning, to get her out to look on +scenes like this.</p> + +<p>“Positively,” she said to herself, “I must invite some +one to visit me. One wants a friend to help one enjoy +solitude.” The stock of social life in Springdale, in +fact, was running low. The Lennoxes and the Wilcoxes +had gone to their Boston homes, and Rose Ferguson +was visiting in New York, and Letitia found so much +to do to supply her place to her father and mother, +that she had less time than usual to share with Grace. +Then, again, the Elm-street cottage was a walk of +some considerable distance; whereas, when Grace lived +at the old homestead, the Fergusons were so near as to +seem only one family, and were dropping in at all hours +of the day and evening.</p> + +<p>“Whom can I send for?” thought Grace to herself; +and she ran over mentally, in a moment, the +list of available friends and acquaintances. Reader, +perhaps you have never really estimated your friends, +till you have tried them by the question, which of them +you could ask to come and spend a week or fortnight +with you, alone in a country-house, in the depth +of winter. Such an invitation supposes great faith in +your friend, in yourself, or in human nature.</p> + +<p>Grace, at the moment, was unable to think of anybody +whom she could call from the approaching festivities +of holiday life in the cities to share her snow +Patmos with her; so she opened a book for company, +and turned to where her dainty breakfast-table, with its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +hot coffee and crisp rolls, stood invitingly waiting +for her before the cheerful open fire.</p> + +<p>At this moment, she saw, what she had not noticed +before, a letter lying on her breakfast plate. Grace +took it up with an exclamation of surprise; which, +however, was heard only by her canary birds and +her plants.</p> + +<p>Years before, when Grace was in the first summer +of her womanhood, she had been very intimate with +Walter Sydenham, and thoroughly esteemed and liked +him; but, as many another good girl has done, about +those days she had conceived it her duty not to think +of marriage, but to devote herself to making a home +for her widowed father and her brother. There was a +certain romance of self-abnegation in this disposition of +herself which was rather pleasant to Grace, and in which +both the gentlemen concerned found great advantage. +As long as her father lived, and John was unmarried +and devoted to her, she had never regretted it.</p> + +<p>Sydenham had gone to seek his fortune in California. +He had begged to keep up intercourse by correspondence; +but Grace was not one of those women who +are willing to drain the heart of the man they refuse +to marry, by keeping up with him just that degree of +intimacy which prevents his seeking another. Grace +had meant her refusal to be final, and had sincerely +hoped that he would find happiness with some other +woman; and to that intent had rigorously denied herself +and him a correspondence: yet, from time to time, +she had heard of him through an occasional letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +to John, or by a chance Californian newspaper. Since +John’s marriage had so altered her course of life, +Grace had thought of him more frequently, and with +some questionings as to the wisdom of her course.</p> + +<p>This letter was from him; and we shall give our +readers the benefit of it:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Grace</span>,—You must pardon me this beginning,—in +the old style of other days; for though many +years have passed, in which I have been trying to walk +in your ways, and keep all your commandments, I have +never yet been able to do as you directed, and forget +you: and here I am, beginning ‘Dear Grace,’—just +where I left off on a certain evening long, long ago. I +wonder if you remember it as plainly as I do. I am +just the same fellow that I was then and there. If +you remember, you admitted that, were it not for +other duties, you might have considered my humble +supplication. I gathered that it would not have been +impossible <i>per se</i>, as metaphysicians say, to look with +favor on your humble servant.</p> + +<p>“Gracie, I have been living, I trust, not unworthily +of you. Your photograph has been with me round +the world,—in the miner’s tent, on shipboard, among +scenes where barbarous men do congregate; and +everywhere it has been a presence, ‘to warn, to comfort, +to command;’ and if I have come out of many +trials firmer, better, more established in right than +before; if I am more believing in religion, and in +every way grounded and settled in the way you would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +have me,—it has been your spiritual presence and your +power over me that has done it. Besides that, I may +as well tell you, I have never given up the hope that by +and by you would see all this, and in some hour give +me a different answer.</p> + +<p>“When, therefore, I learned of your father’s death, +and afterwards of John’s marriage, I thought it was time +for me to return again. I have come to New York, +and, if you do not forbid, shall come to Springdale.</p> + +<p>“Will you be a little glad to see me, Gracie? Why +not? We are both alone now. Let us take hands, and +walk the same path together. Shall we?</p> + +<p class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;">“Yours till death, and after,</span><br /> +”<span class="smcap">Walter Sydenham.</span>“<br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Would she? To say the truth, the question as asked +now had a very different air from the question as asked +years before, when, full of life and hope and enthusiasm, +she had devoted herself to making an ideal home for her +father and brother. What other sympathy or communion, +she had asked herself then, should she ever +need than these friends, so very dear: and, if she +needed more, there, in the future, was John’s ideal +wife, who, somehow, always came before her in the +likeness of Rose Ferguson, and John’s ideal children, +whom she was sure she should love and pet as if they +were her own.</p> + +<p>And now here she was, in a house all by herself, +coming down to her meals, one after another, without +the excitement of a cheerful face opposite to her, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +with all possibility of confidential intercourse with +her brother entirely cut off. Lillie, in this matter, +acted, with much grace and spirit, the part of the dog +in the manger; and, while she resolutely refused to +enter into any of John’s literary or intellectual tastes, +seemed to consider her wifely rights infringed upon +by any other woman who would. She would absolutely +refuse to go up with her husband and spend an +evening with Grace, alleging it was “pokey and stupid,” +and that they always got talking about things that +she didn’t care any thing about. If, then, John went +without her to spend the evening, he was sure to be +received, on his return, with a dead and gloomy silence, +more fearful, sometimes, than the most violent of objurgations. +That look of patient, heart-broken woe, those +long-drawn sighs, were a reception that he dreaded, to +say the truth, a great deal more than a direct attack, +or any fault-finding to which he could have replied; +and so, on the whole, John made up his mind that the +best thing he could do was to stay at home and rock the +cradle of this fretful baby, whose wisdom-teeth were so +hard to cut, and so long in coming. It was a pretty +baby; and when made the sole and undivided object of +attention, when every thing possible was done for it by +everybody in the house, condescended often to be very +graceful and winning and playful, and had numberless +charming little ways and tricks. The difference between +Lillie in good humor and Lillie in bad humor +was a thing which John soon learned to appreciate as +one of the most powerful forces in his life. If you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +knew, my dear reader, that by pursuing a certain course +you could bring upon yourself a drizzling, dreary, north-east +rain-storm, and by taking heed to your ways you +could secure sunshine, flowers, and bird-singing, you +would be very careful, after a while, to keep about you +the right atmospheric temperature; and, if going to see +the very best friend you had on earth was sure to bring +on a fit of rheumatism or tooth-ache, you would soon +learn to be very sparing of your visits. For this reason +it was that Grace saw very little of John; that she +never now had a sisterly conversation with him; that +she preferred arranging all those little business matters, +in which it would be convenient to have a masculine +appeal, solely and singly by herself. The thing was +never referred to in any conversation between them. +It was perfectly understood without words. There are +friends between whom and us has shut the coffin-lid; +and there are others between whom and us stand sacred +duties, considerations never to be enough reverenced, +which forbid us to seek their society, or to ask to lean +on them either in joy or sorrow: the whole thing as +regards them must be postponed until the future life. +Such had been Grace’s conclusion with regard to her +brother. She well knew that any attempt to restore +their former intimacy would only diminish and destroy +what little chance of happiness yet remained to him; +and it may therefore be imagined with what changed +eyes she read Walter Sydenham’s letter from those +of years ago.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of stamping feet at the front door;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +and John came in, all ruddy and snow-powdered, but +looking, on the whole, uncommonly cheerful.</p> + +<p>“Well, Gracie,” he said, “the fact is, I shall have to +let Lillie go to New York for a week or two, to see +those Follingsbees. Hang them! But what’s the +matter, Gracie? Have you been crying, or sitting up +all night reading, or what?”</p> + +<p>The fact was, that Gracie had for once been indulging +in a good cry, rather pitying herself for her loneliness, +now that the offer of relief had come. She +laughed, though; and, handing John her letter, said,—</p> + +<p>“Look here, John! here’s a letter I have just had +from Walter Sydenham.”</p> + +<p>John broke out into a loud, hilarious laugh.</p> + +<p>“The blessed old brick!” said he. “Has he turned +up again?”</p> + +<p>“Read the letter, John,” said Grace. “I don’t know +exactly how to answer it.”</p> + +<p>John read the letter, and seemed to grow more and +more quiet as he read it. Then he came and stood by +Grace, and stroked her hair gently.</p> + +<p>“I wish, Gracie dear,” he said, “you had asked my +advice about this matter years ago. You loved Walter,—I +can see you did; and you sent him off on my account. +It is just too bad! Of all the men I ever knew, +he was the one I should have been best pleased to have +you marry!”</p> + +<p>“It was not wholly on your account, John. You +know there was our father,” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, Gracie; but he would have preferred to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +see you well married. He would not have been so selfish, +nor I either. It is your self-abnegation, you dear +over-good women, that makes us men seem selfish. +We should be as good as you are, if you would give us +the chance. I think, Gracie, though you’re not aware +of it, there is a spice of Pharisaism in the way in which +you good girls allow us men to swallow you up without +ever telling us what you are doing. I often wondered +about your intimacy with Sydenham, and why it +never came to any thing; and I can but half forgive +you. How selfish I must have seemed!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, John! indeed not.”</p> + +<p>“Come, you needn’t put on these meek airs. I insist +upon it, you have been feeling self-righteous and +abused,” said John, laughing; “but ‘all’s well that +ends well.’ Sit down, now, and write him a real sensible +letter, like a nice honest woman as you are.”</p> + +<p>“And say, ‘Yes, sir, and thank you too’?” said +Grace, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Well, something in that way,” said John. “You +can fence it in with as many make-believes as is proper. +And now, Gracie, this is deuced lucky! You see Sydenham +will be down here at once; and it wouldn’t be +exactly the thing for you to receive him at this house, +and our only hotel is perfectly impracticable in winter; +and that brings me to what I am here about. Lillie is +going to New York to spend the holidays; and I wanted +you to shut up, and come up and keep house for us. +You see you have only one servant, and we have four +to be looked after. You can bring your maid along,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +and then I will invite Walter to our house, where he +will have a clear field; and you can settle all your matters +between you.”</p> + +<p>“So Lillie is going to the Follingsbees’?” said Grace.</p> + +<p>“Yes: she had a long, desperately sentimental letter +from Mrs. Follingsbee, urging, imploring, and entreating, +and setting forth all the splendors and glories +of New York. Between you and me, it strikes me that +that Mrs. Follingsbee is an affected goose; but I couldn’t +say so to Lillie, ‘by no manner of means.’ She professes +an untold amount of admiration and friendship for +Lillie, and sets such brilliant prospects before her, that +I should be the most hard-hearted old Turk in existence +if I were to raise any objections; and, in fact, Lillie is +quite brilliant in anticipation, and makes herself so +delightful that I am almost sorry that I agreed to let +her go.”</p> + +<p>“When shall you want me, John?”</p> + +<p>“Well, this evening, say; and, by the way, couldn’t +you come up and see Lillie a little while this morning? +She sent her love to you, and said she was so hurried +with packing, and all that, that she wanted you to +excuse her not calling.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! I’ll come,” said Grace, good-naturedly, “as +soon as I have had time to put things in a little order.”</p> + +<p>“And write your letter,” said John, gayly, as he went +out. “Don’t forget that.”</p> + +<p>Grace did not forget the letter; but we shall not indulge +our readers with any peep over her shoulder, only +saying that, though written with an abundance of precaution,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +it was one with which Walter Sydenham was +well satisfied.</p> + +<p>Then she made her few arrangements in the housekeeping +line, called in her grand vizier and prime minister +from the kitchen, and held with her a counsel of ways +and means; put on her india-rubbers and Polish boots, +and walked up through the deep snow-drifts to the +Springdale post-office, where she dropped the fateful +letter with a good heart on the whole; and then she +went on to John’s, the old home, to offer any parting +services to Lillie that might be wanted.</p> + +<p>It is rather amusing, in any family circle, to see how +some one member, by dint of persistent exactions, +comes to receive always, in all the exigencies of life, an +amount of attention and devotion which is never rendered +back. Lillie never thought of such a thing as +offering any services of any sort to Grace. Grace might +have packed her trunks to go to the moon, or the Pacific +Ocean, quite alone for matter of any help Lillie would +ever have thought of. If Grace had headache or toothache +or a bad cold, Lillie was always “so sorry;” but it +never occurred to her to go and sit with her, to read +to her, or offer any of a hundred little sisterly offices. +When she was in similar case, John always summoned +Grace to sit with Lillie during the hours that his business +necessarily took him from her. It really seemed +to be John’s impression that a toothache or headache +of Lillie’s was something entirely different from the +same thing with Grace, or any other person in the +world; and Lillie fully shared the impression.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grace found the little empress quite bewildered in +her multiplicity of preparations, and neglected details, +all of which had been deferred to the last day; and +Rosa and Anna and Bridget, in fact the whole staff, +were all busy in getting her off.</p> + +<p>“So good of you to come, Gracie!” and, “If you +would do this;” and, “Won’t you see to that?” +and, “If you could just do the other!” and Grace +both could and would, and did what no other pair +of hands could in the same time. John apologized +for the lack of any dinner. “The fact is, Gracie, +Bridget had to be getting up a lot of her things +that were forgotten till the last moment; and I told +her not to mind, we could do on a cold lunch.” +Bridget herself had become so wholly accustomed to +the ways of her little mistress, that it now seemed +the most natural thing in the world that the whole +house should be upset for her.</p> + +<p>But, at last, every thing was ready and packed; +the trunks and boxes shut and locked, and the keys +sorted; and John and Lillie were on their way to the +station.</p> + +<p>“I shall find out Walter in New York, and bring +him back with me,” said John, cheerily, as he parted +from Grace in the hall. “I leave you to get things +all to rights for us.”</p> + +<p>It would not have been a very agreeable or cheerful +piece of work to tidy the disordered house and take +command of the domestic forces under any other +circumstances; but now Grace found it a very nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +diversion to prevent her thoughts from running too +curiously on this future meeting. “After all,” she +thought to herself, “he is just the same venturesome, +imprudent creature that he always was, jumping to +conclusions, and insisting on seeing every thing in +his own way. How could he dare write me such a +letter without seeing me? Ten years make great +changes. How could he be sure he would like me?” +And she examined herself somewhat critically in the +looking-glass.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, “he may thank me for it that +we are not engaged, and that he comes only as an +old friend, and perfectly free, for all he has said, to +be nothing more, unless on seeing each other we are so +agreed. I am so sorry the old place is all demolished +and be-Frenchified. It won’t look natural to him; and +I am not the kind of person to harmonize with these +cold, polished, glistening, slippery surroundings, that +have no home life or association in them.”</p> + +<p>But Grace had to wake from these reflections to culinary +counsels with Bridget, and to arrangements of +apartments with Rosa. Her own exacting carefulness +followed the careless footsteps of the untrained handmaids, +and rearranged every plait and fold; so that by +nightfall the next day she was thoroughly tired.</p> + +<p>She beguiled the last moments, while waiting for the +coming of the cars, in arranging her hair, and putting +on one of those wonderful Parisian dresses, which +adapt themselves so precisely to the air of the wearer +that they seem to be in themselves works of art. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +she stood with a fluttering color to see the carriage +drive up to the door, and the two get out of it.</p> + +<p>It is almost too bad to spy out such meetings, and +certainly one has no business to describe them; but +Walter Sydenham carried all before him, by an old +habit which he had of taking all and every thing for +granted, as, from the first moment, he did with Grace. +He had no idea of hesitations or holdings off, and +would have none; and met Gracie as if they had parted +only yesterday, and as if her word to him always had +been yes, instead of no.</p> + +<p>In fact, they had not been together five minutes +before the whole life of youth returned to them both,—that +indestructible youth which belongs to warm hearts +and buoyant spirits.</p> + +<p>Such a merry evening as they had of it! When +John, as the wood fire burned low on the hearth, +with some excuse of letters to write in his library, +left them alone together, Walter put on her finger +a diamond ring, saying,—</p> + +<p>“There, Gracie! now, when shall it be? You see +you’ve kept me waiting so long that I can’t spare +you much time. I have an engagement to be in +Montreal the first of February, and I couldn’t think of +going alone. They have merry times there in mid-winter; +and I’m sure it will be ever so much nicer +for you than keeping house alone here.”</p> + +<p>Grace said, of course, that it was impossible; but +Walter declared that doing the impossible was precisely +in his line, and pushed on his various advantages with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +such spirit and energy that, when they parted for +the night, Grace said she would think of it: which +promise, at the breakfast-table next morning, was +interpreted by the unblushing Walter, and reported +to John, as a full consent. Before noon that day, +Walter had walked up with John and Grace to take +a survey of the cottage, and had given John indefinite +power to engage workmen and artificers to rearrange +and enlarge and beautify it for their return after the +wedding journey. For the rest of the visit, all the +three were busy with pencil and paper, projecting +balconies, bow-windows, pantries, library, and dining-room, +till the old cottage so blossomed out in imagination +as to leave only a germ of its former self.</p> + +<p>Walter’s visit brought back to John a deal of the +warmth and freedom which he had not known since he +married. We often live under an insensible pressure +of which we are made aware only by its removal. +John had been so much in the habit lately of watching +to please Lillie, of measuring and checking his words +or actions, that he now bubbled over with a wild, +free delight in finding himself alone with Grace and +Walter. He laughed, sang, whistled, skipped upstairs +two at a time, and scarcely dared to say even to +himself why he was so happy. He did not face himself +with that question, and went dutifully to the library at +stated times to write to Lillie, and made much of her +little letters.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> + +<small><i>THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IF John managed to be happy without Lillie in +Springdale, Lillie managed to be blissful without +him in New York.</p> + +<p>“The bird let loose in Eastern skies” never hastened +more fondly home than she to its glitter and gayety, its +life and motion, dash and sensation. She rustled in all +her bravery of curls and frills, pinkings and quillings,—a +marvellous specimen of Parisian frostwork, without +one breath of reason or philosophy or conscience to +melt it.</p> + +<p>The Follingsbees’ house might stand for the original +of the Castle of Indolence.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 5em;">“Halls where who can tell</span></div> +<div class="verse">What elegance and grandeur wide expand,—</div> +<div class="verse">The pride of Turkey and of Persia’s land?</div> +<div class="verse">Soft quilts on quilts; on carpets, carpets spread;</div> +<div class="verse">And couches stretched around in seemly band;</div> +<div class="verse">And endless pillows rise to prop the head:</div> +<div class="verse">So that each spacious room was one full swelling bed.”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>It was not without some considerable profit that +Mrs. Follingsbee had read Balzac and Dumas, and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +Charlie Ferrola for master of arts in her establishment. +The effect of the whole was perfect; it transported one, +bodily, back to the times of Montespan and Pompadour, +when life was all one glittering upper-crust, and pretty +women were never troubled with even the shadow of +a duty.</p> + +<p>It was with a rebound of joyousness that Lillie found +herself once more with a crowded list of invitations, +calls, operas, dancing, and shopping, that kept her +pretty little head in a perfect whirl of excitement, +and gave her not one moment for thought.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Follingsbee, to say the truth, would have been a +little careful about inviting a rival queen of beauty into +the circle, were it not that Charlie Ferrola, after an attentive +consideration of the subject, had assured her that a +golden-haired blonde would form a most complete and +effective tableau, in contrast with her own dark rich +style of beauty. Neither would lose by it, so he said; +and the impression, as they rode together in an elegant +open barouche, with ermine carriage robes, would be +“stunning.” So they called each other <i>ma sœur</i>, and +drove out in the park in a ravishing little pony-phaeton +all foamed over with ermine, drawn by a lovely pair +of cream-colored horses, whose harness glittered with +gold and silver, after the fashion of the Count of Monte +Cristo. In truth, if Dick Follingsbee did not remind +one of Solomon in all particulars, he was like him in +one, that he “made silver and gold as the stones of the +street” in New York.</p> + +<p>Lillie’s presence, however, was all desirable; because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +it would draw the calls of two or three old New York +families who had hitherto stood upon their dignity, and +refused to acknowledge the shoddy aristocracy. The +beautiful Mrs. John Seymour, therefore, was no less +useful than ornamental, and advanced Mrs. Follingsbee’s +purposes in her “Excelsior” movements.</p> + +<p>“Now, I suppose,” said Mrs. Follingsbee to Lillie +one day, when they had been out making fashionable +calls together, “we really must call on Charlie’s wife, +just to keep her quiet.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you didn’t like her,” said Lillie.</p> + +<p>“I don’t; I think she is dreadfully common,” said +Mrs. Follingsbee: “she is one of those women who can’t +talk any thing but baby, and bores Charlie half to death. +But then, you know, when there is a <i>liaison</i> like mine +with Charlie, one can’t be too careful to cultivate the +wives. <i>Les convenances</i>, you know, are the all-important +things. I send her presents constantly, and send +my carriage around to take her to church or opera, or +any thing that is going on, and have her children at my +fancy parties: yet, for all that, the creature has not a +particle of gratitude; those narrow-minded women +never have. You know I am very susceptible to people’s +atmospheres; and I always feel that that creature is just +as full of spite and jealousy as she can stick in her skin.”</p> + +<p>It will be remarked that this was one of those idiomatic +phrases which got lodged in Mrs. Follingsbee’s +head in a less cultivated period of her life, as a rusty +needle sometimes hides in a cushion, coming out unexpectedly, +when excitement gives it an honest squeeze.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, I should think,” pursued Mrs. Follingsbee, +“that a woman who really loved her husband would be +thankful to have him have such a rest from the disturbing +family cares which smother a man’s genius, as a +house like ours offers him. How can the artistic nature +exercise itself in the very grind of the thing, when this +child has a cold, and the other the croup; and there is +fussing with mustard-paste and ipecac and paregoric,—all +those realities, you know? Why, Charlie tells me +he feels a great deal more affection for his children when +he is all calm and tranquil in the little boudoir at +our house; and he writes such lovely little poems about +them, I must show you some of them. But this creature +doesn’t appreciate them a bit: she has no poetry +in her.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I must say, I don’t think I should have,” said +Lillie, honestly. “I should be just as mad as I could +be, if John acted so.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear! the cases are different: Charlie has +such peculiarities of genius. The artistic nature, you +know, requires soothing.” Here they stopped, and +rang at the door of a neat little house, and were ushered +into a pair of those characteristic parlors which show +that they have been arranged by a home-worshipper, and +a mother. There were plants and birds and flowers, +and little <i>genre</i> pictures of children, animals, and household +interiors, arranged with a loving eye and hand.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see any thing so perfectly characteristic?” +said Mrs. Follingsbee, looking around her as +if she were going to faint.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This woman drives Charlie perfectly wild, because +she has no appreciation of high art. Now, I sent her +photographs of Michel Angelo’s ‘Moses,’ and ‘Night +and Morning;’ and I really wish you would see where +she hung them,—away in yonder dark corner!”</p> + +<p>“I think myself they are enough to scare the owls,” +said Lillie, after a moment’s contemplation.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear, you know they are the thing,” said +Mrs. Follingsbee: “people never like such things at +first, and one must get used to high art before one +forms a taste for it. The thing with her is, she has no +docility. She does not try to enter into Charlie’s +tastes.”</p> + +<p>The woman with “no docility” entered at this moment,—a +little snow-drop of a creature, with a pale, +pure, Madonna face, and that sad air of hopeless firmness +which is seen unhappily in the faces of so many +women.</p> + +<p>“I had to bring baby down,” she said. “I have no +nurse to-day, and he has been threatened with croup.”</p> + +<p>“The dear little fellow!” said Mrs. Follingsbee, with +officious graciousness. “So glad you brought him +down; come to his aunty?” she inquired lovingly, as +the little fellow shrank away, and regarded her with +round, astonished eyes. “Why will you not come to +my next reception, Mrs. Ferrola?” she added. “You +make yourself quite a stranger to us. You ought to +give yourself some variety.”</p> + +<p>“The fact is, Mrs. Follingsbee,” said Mrs. Ferrola, +“receptions in New York generally begin about my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +bed-time; and, if I should spend the night out, I should +have no strength to give to my children the next day.”</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 271px;"> +<img src="images/i233.jpg" width="271" height="426" alt="Nurse holding baby" /> +<div class="caption">“I had to bring baby down.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“But, my dear, you ought to have some amusement.”</p> + +<p>“My children amuse me, if you will believe it,” said +Mrs. Ferrola, with a remarkably quiet smile.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Follingsbee was not quite sure whether this +was meant to be sarcastic or not. She answered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +however, “Well! your husband will come, at all +events.”</p> + +<p>“You may be quite sure of that,” said Mrs. Ferrola, +with the same quietness.</p> + +<p>“Well!” said Mrs. Follingsbee, rising, with patronizing +cheerfulness, “delighted to see you doing so well; +and, if it is pleasant, I will send the carriage round to +take you a drive in the park this afternoon. Good-morning.”</p> + +<p>And, like a rustling cloud of silks and satins and +perfumes, she bent down and kissed the baby, and +swept from the apartment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrola, with a movement that seemed involuntary, +wiped the baby’s cheek with her handkerchief, +and, folding it closer to her bosom, looked up as if +asking patience where patience is to be found for the +asking.</p> + +<p>“There! didn’t I tell you?” said Mrs. Follingsbee +when she came out; “just one of those provoking, +meek, obstinate, impracticable creatures, with no adaptation +in her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, gracious me!” said Lillie: “I can’t imagine +more dire despair than to sit all day tending baby.”</p> + +<p>“Well, so you would think; and Charlie has offered +to hire competent nurses, and wants her to dress herself +up and go into society; and she just won’t do it, +and sticks right down by the cradle there, with her +children running over her like so many squirrels.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I hope and trust I never shall have children,” +said Lillie, fervently, “because, you see, there’s an end<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +of every thing. No more fun, no more frolics, no more +admiration or good times; nothing but this frightful +baby, that you can’t get rid of.”</p> + +<p>Yet, as Lillie spoke, she knew, in her own slippery +little heart, that the shadow of this awful cloud of +maternity was resting over her; though she laced and +danced, and bid defiance to every law of nature, with a +blind and ignorant wilfulness, not caring what consequences +she might draw down on herself, if only she +might escape this.</p> + +<p>And was there, then, no soft spot in this woman’s +heart anywhere? Generally it is thought that the throb +of the child’s heart awakens a heart in the mother, and +that the mother is born again with her child. It is so +with unperverted nature, as God meant it to be; and +you shall hear from the lips of an Irish washer-woman +a genuine poetry of maternal feeling, for the little one +who comes to make her toil more toilsome, that is +wholly withered away out of luxurious circles, where +there is every thing to make life easy. Just as the +Chinese have contrived fashionable monsters, where +human beings are constrained to grow in the shape of +flower-pots, so fashionable life contrives at last to grow +a woman who hates babies, and will risk her life to be +rid of the crowning glory of womanhood.</p> + +<p>There was a time in Lillie’s life, when she was sixteen +years of age, which was a turning-point with her, +and decided that she should be the heartless woman +she was. If at that age, and at that time, she had +decided to marry the man she really loved, marriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +might indeed have proved to her a sacrament. It might +have opened to her a door through which she could +have passed out from a career of selfish worldliness +into that gradual discipline of unselfishness which a +true love-marriage brings.</p> + +<p>But she did not. The man was poor, and she was +beautiful; her beauty would buy wealth and worldly position, +and so she cast him off. Yet partly to gratify her +own lingering feeling, and partly because she could not +wholly renounce what had once been hers, she kept up +for years with him just that illusive simulacrum which +such women call friendship; which, while constantly +denying, constantly takes pains to attract, and drains +the heart of all possibility of loving another.</p> + +<p>Harry Endicott was a young man of fine capabilities, +sensitive, interesting, handsome, full of generous impulses, +whom a good woman might easily have led to a +full completeness. He was not really Lillie’s cousin, +but the cousin of her mother; yet, under the name of +cousin, he had constant access and family intimacy.</p> + +<p>This winter Harry Endicott suddenly returned to the +fashionable circles of New York,—returned from a +successful career in India, with an ample fortune. He +was handsomer than ever, took stylish bachelor lodgings, +set up a most distracting turnout, and became a +sort of Marquis of Farintosh in fashionable circles. +Was ever any thing so lucky, or so unlucky, for our +Lillie?—lucky, if life really does run on the basis of +French novels, and if all that is needed is the sparkle +and stimulus of new emotions; unlucky, nay, even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +gravely terrible, if life really is established on a basis of +moral responsibility, and dogged by the fatal necessity +that “whatsoever man or woman soweth, that shall he +or she also reap.”</p> + +<p>In the most critical hour of her youth, when love +was sent to her heart like an angel, to beguile her from +selfishness, and make self-denial easy, Lillie’s pretty +little right hand had sowed to the world and the flesh; +and of that sowing she was now to reap all the disquiets, +the vexations, the tremors, that go to fill the +pages of French novels,—records of women who marry +where they cannot love, to serve the purposes of selfishness +and ambition, and then make up for it by loving +where they cannot marry. If all the women in America +who have practised, and are practising, this species of +moral agriculture should stand forth together, it would +be seen that it is not for nothing that France has been +called the society educator of the world.</p> + +<p>The apartments of the Follingsbee mansion, with +their dreamy voluptuousness, were eminently adapted +to be the background and scenery of a dramatic performance +of this kind. There were vistas of drawing-rooms, +with delicious boudoirs, like side chapels in a +temple of Venus, with handsome Charlie Ferrola gliding +in and out, or lecturing dreamily from the corner +of some sofa on the last most important crinkle of the +artistic rose-leaf, demonstrating conclusively that beauty +was the only true morality, and that there was no sin but +bad taste; and that nobody knew what good taste was +but himself and his clique. There was the discussion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +far from edifying, of modern improved theories of society, +seen from an improved philosophic point of view; +of all the peculiar wants and needs of etherealized beings, +who have been refined and cultivated till it is the +most difficult problem in the world to keep them comfortable, +while there still remains the most imperative +necessity that they should be made happy, though the +whole universe were to be torn down and made over to +effect it.</p> + +<p>The idea of not being happy, and in all respects as +blissful as they could possibly be made, was one always +assumed by the Follingsbee clique as an injustice to be +wrestled with. Anybody that did not affect them +agreeably, that jarred on their nerves, or interrupted +the delicious reveries of existence with the sharp saw-setting +of commonplace realities, in their view ought +to be got rid of summarily, whether that somebody +were husband or wife, parent or child.</p> + +<p>Natures that affected each other pleasantly were to +spring together like dew-drops, and sail off on rosy +clouds with each other to the land of Do-just-as-you-have-a-mind-to.</p> + +<p>The only thing never to be enough regretted, which +prevented this immediate and blissful union of particles, +was the impossibility of living on rosy clouds, and +making them the means of conveyance to the desirable +country before mentioned. Many of the fair +<i>illuminatæ</i>, who were quite willing to go off with +a kindred spirit, were withheld by the necessities of +infinite pairs of French kid gloves, and gallons of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +cologne-water, and indispensable clouds of mechlin and +point lace, which were necessary to keep around them +the poetry of existence.</p> + +<p>Although it was well understood among them that +the religion of the emotions is the only true religion, +and that nothing is holy that you do not feel exactly +like doing, and every thing is holy that you do; still +these fair confessors lacked the pluck of primitive +Christians, and could not think of taking joyfully the +spoiling of their goods, even for the sake of a kindred +spirit. Hence the necessity of living in deplored marriage-bonds +with husbands who could pay rent and +taxes, and stand responsible for unlimited bills at Stewart’s +and Tiffany’s. Hence the philosophy which allowed +the possession of the body to one man, and of the soul +to another, which one may see treated of at large in +any writings of the day.</p> + +<p>As yet Lillie had been kept intact from all this sort +of thing by the hard, brilliant enamel of selfishness. +That little shrewd, gritty common sense, which enabled +her to see directly through other people’s illusions, has, +if we mistake not, by this time revealed itself to our +readers as an element in her mind: but now there is to +come a decided thrust at the heart of her womanhood; +and we shall see whether the paralysis is complete, or +whether the woman is alive.</p> + +<p>If Lillie had loved Harry Endicott poor, had loved +him so much that at one time she had seriously balanced +the possibility of going to housekeeping in a little +unfashionable house, and having only one girl, and hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +in hand with him walking the paths of economy, self-denial, +and prudence,—the reader will see that Harry +Endicott rich, Harry Endicott enthroned in fashionable +success, Harry Endicott plus fast horses, splendid equipages, +a fine city house, and a country house on the +Hudson, was something still more dangerous to her +imagination.</p> + +<p>But more than this was the stimulus of Harry Endicott +out of her power, and beyond the sphere of her +charms. She had a feverish desire to see him, but he +never called. Forthwith she had a confidential conversation +with her bosom friend, who entered into +the situation with enthusiasm, and invited him to her +receptions. But he didn’t come.</p> + +<p>The fact was, that Harry Endicott hated Lillie now, +with that kind of hatred which is love turned wrong-side +out. He hated her for the misery she had caused +him, and was in some danger of feeling it incumbent +on himself to go to the devil in a wholly unnecessary +manner on that account.</p> + +<p>He had read the story of Monte Cristo, with its +highly wrought plot of vengeance, and had determined +to avenge himself on the woman who had so tortured +him, and to make her feel, if possible, what he had felt.</p> + +<p>So, when he had discovered the hours of driving +observed by Mrs. Follingsbee and Lillie in the park, he +took pains, from time to time, to meet them face to face, +and to pass Lillie with an unrecognizing stare. Then +he dashed in among Mrs. Follingsbee’s circle, making +himself everywhere talked of, till they were beset on all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +hands by the inquiry, “Don’t you know young Endicott? +why, I should think you would want to have him +visit here.”</p> + +<p>After this had been played far enough, he suddenly +showed himself one evening at Mrs. Follingsbee’s, and +apologized in an off-hand manner to Lillie, when reminded +of passing her in the park, that really he wasn’t thinking +of meeting her, and didn’t recognize her, she was so +altered; it had been so many years since they had met, +&c. All in a tone of cool and heartless civility, every +word of which was a dagger’s thrust not only into her +vanity, but into the poor little bit of a real heart which +fashionable life had left to Lillie.</p> + +<p>Every evening, after he had gone, came a long, confidential +conversation with Mrs. Follingsbee, in which +every word and look was discussed and turned, and +all possible or probable inferences therefrom reported; +after which Lillie often laid a sleepless head on a hot +and tumbled pillow, poor, miserable child! suffering her +punishment, without even the grace to know whence it +came, or what it meant. Hitherto Lillie had been walking +only in the limits of that kind of permitted wickedness, +which, although certainly the remotest thing +possible from the Christianity of Christ, finds a great +deal of tolerance and patronage among communicants +of the altar. She had lived a gay, vain, self-pleasing +life, with no object or purpose but the simple one to get +each day as much pleasurable enjoyment out of existence +as possible. Mental and physical indolence and +inordinate vanity had been the key-notes of her life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +She hated every thing that required protracted thought, +or that made trouble, and she longed for excitement. +The passion for praise and admiration had become to +her like the passion of the opium-eater for his drug, or +of the brandy-drinker for his dram. But now she was +heedlessly steering to what might prove a more palpable +sin.</p> + +<p>Harry the serf, once half despised for his slavish +devotion, now stood before her, proud and free, and +tantalized her by the display he made of his indifference, +and preference for others. She put forth every +art and effort to recapture him. But the most dreadful +stroke of fate of all was, that Rose Ferguson had come +to New York to make a winter visit, and was much +talked of in certain circles where Harry was quite intimate; +and he professed himself, indeed, an ardent +admirer at her shrine.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br /> + +<small><i>THE VAN ASTRACHANS.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE Van Astrachans, a proud, rich old family, who +took a certain defined position in New-York life +on account of some ancestral passages in their family +history, had invited Rose to spend a month or two with +them; and she was therefore moving as a star in a very +high orbit.</p> + +<p>Now, these Van Astrachans were one of those cold, +glittering, inaccessible pinnacles in Mrs. Follingsbee’s +fashionable Alp-climbing which she would spare no expense +to reach if possible. It was one of the families +for whose sake she had Mrs. John Seymour under her +roof; and the advent of Rose, whom she was pleased +to style one of Mrs. Seymour’s most intimate friends, +was an unhoped-for stroke of good luck; because there +was the necessity of calling on Rose, of taking her out +to drive in the park, and of making a party on her +account, from which, of course, the Van Astrachans +could not stay away.</p> + +<p>It will be seen here that our friend, Mrs. Follingsbee, +like all ladies whose watch-word is “Excelsior,” had a +peculiar, difficult, and slippery path to climb.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Van Astrachans were good old Dutch-Reformed +Christians, unquestioning believers in the Bible in +general, and the Ten Commandments in particular,—persons +whose moral constitutions had been nourished +on the great stocky beefsteaks and sirloins of plain old +truths which go to form English and Dutch nature. +Theirs was a style of character which rendered them +utterly hopeless of comprehending the etherealized species +of holiness which obtained in the innermost circles +of the Follingsbee <i>illuminati</i>. Mr. Van Astrachan +buttoned under his coat not only many solid inches of +what Carlyle calls “good Christian fat,” but also a +pocket-book through which millions of dollars were +passing daily in an easy and comfortable flow, to the +great advantage of many of his fellow-creatures no less +than himself; and somehow or other he was pig-headed +in the idea that the Bible and the Ten Commandments +had something to do with that stability of things which +made this necessary flow easy and secure.</p> + +<p>He was slow-moulded, accurate, and fond of security; +and was of opinion that nineteen centuries of Christianity +ought to have settled a few questions so that they +could be taken for granted, and were not to be kept +open for discussion.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Mr. Van Astrachan having read the +accounts of the first French revolution, and having +remarked all the subsequent history of that country, +was confirmed in his idea, that pitching every thing +into pi once in fifty years was no way to get on in the +affairs of this world.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had strong suspicions of every thing French, and +a mind very ill adapted to all those delicate reasonings +and shadings and speculations of which Mr. Charlie +Ferrola was particularly fond, which made every thing +in morals and religion an open question.</p> + +<p>He and his portly wife planted themselves, like two +canons of the sanctuary, every Sunday, in the tip-top +highest-priced pew of the most orthodox old church in +New York; and if the worthy man sometimes indulged +in gentle slumbers in the high-padded walls of his slip, +it was because he was so well assured of the orthodoxy +of his minister that he felt that no interest of society +would suffer while he was off duty. But may Heaven +grant us, in these days of dissolving views and general +undulation, large armies of these solid-planted artillery +on the walls of our Zion!</p> + +<p>Blessed be the people whose strength is to sit still! +Much needed are they when the activity of free inquiry +seems likely to chase us out of house and home, and +leave us, like the dove in the deluge, no rest for the +sole of our foot.</p> + +<p>Let us thank God for those Dutch-Reformed churches; +great solid breakwaters, that stand as the dykes in their +ancestral Holland to keep out the muddy waves of +that sea whose waters cast up mire and dirt.</p> + +<p>But let us fancy with what quakings and shakings of +heart Mrs. Follingsbee must have sought the alliance +of these tremendously solid old Christians. They were +precisely what she wanted to give an air of solidity to +the cobweb glitter of her state. And we can also see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +how necessary it was that she should ostentatiously +visit Charlie Ferrola’s wife, and speak of her as a darling +creature, her particular friend, whom she was doing +her very best to keep out of an early grave.</p> + +<p>Charlie Ferrola said that the Van Astrachans were +obtuse; and so, to a certain degree, they were. In +social matters they had a kind of confiding simplicity. +They were so much accustomed to regard positive +morals in the light of immutable laws of Nature, that +it would not have been easy to have made them understand +that sliding scale of estimates which is in use +nowadays. They would probably have had but one +word, and that a very disagreeable one, to designate a +married woman who was in love with anybody but her +husband. Consequently, they were the very last people +whom any gossip of this sort could ever reach, or to +whose ears it could have been made intelligible.</p> + +<p>Mr. Van Astrachan considered Dick Follingsbee a +swindler, whose proper place was the State’s prison, and +whose morals could only be mentioned with those of +Sodom and Gomorrah.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, as Mrs. Follingsbee made it a point of +rolling up her eyes and sighing deeply when his name +was mentioned,—as she attended church on Sunday +with conspicuous faithfulness, and subscribed to charitable +societies and all manner of good works,—as she +had got appointed directress on the board of an orphan +asylum where Mrs. Van Astrachan figured in association +with her, that good lady was led to look upon her with +compassion, as a worthy woman who was making the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +best of her way to heaven, notwithstanding the opposition +of a dissolute husband.</p> + +<p>As for Rose, she was as fresh and innocent and dewy, +in the hot whirl and glitter and glare of New York, as +a waving spray of sweet-brier, brought in fresh with all +the dew upon it.</p> + +<p>She really had for Lillie a great deal of that kind of +artistic admiration which nice young girls sometimes +have for very beautiful women older than themselves; +and was, like almost every one else, somewhat bejuggled +and taken in by that air of infantine sweetness and +simplicity which had survived all the hot glitter of her +life, as if a rose, fresh with dew, should lie unwilted in +the mouth of a furnace.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Lillie’s face had a beauty this winter it had +never worn: the softness of a real feeling, the pathos of +real suffering, at times touched her face with something +that was always wanting in it before. The bitter waters +of sin that she would drink gave a strange feverish +color to her cheek; and the poisoned perfume she would +inhale gave a strange new brightness to her eyes.</p> + +<p>Rose sometimes looked on her and wondered; so +innocent and healthy and light-hearted in herself, she +could not even dream of what was passing. She had +been brought up to love John as a brother, and opened +her heart at once to his wife with a sweet and loyal +faithfulness. When she told Mrs. Van Astrachan that +Mrs. John Seymour was one of her friends from Springdale, +married into a family with which she had grown +up with great intimacy, it seemed the most natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +thing in the world to the good lady that Rose should +want to visit her; that she should drive with her, and +call on her, and receive her at their house; and with +her of course must come Mrs. Follingsbee.</p> + +<p>Mr. Van Astrachan made a dead halt at the idea of +Dick Follingsbee. He never would receive <i>that</i> man +under his roof, he said, and he never would enter his +house; and when Mr. Van Astrachan once said a thing +of this kind, as Mr. Hosea Biglow remarks, “a meeting-house +wasn’t sotter.”</p> + +<p>But then Mrs. Follingsbee’s situation was confidentially +stated to Lillie, and by Lillie confidentially stated +to Rose, and by Rose to Mrs. Van Astrachan; and it +was made to appear how Dick Follingsbee had entirely +abandoned his wife, going off in the ways of Balaam +the son of Bosor, and all other bad ways mentioned in +Scripture, habitually leaving poor Mrs. Follingsbee to +entertain company alone, so that he was never seen at +her parties, and had nothing to do with her.</p> + +<p>“So much the better for them,” remarked Mr. Van +Astrachan.</p> + +<p>“In that case, my dear, I don’t see that it would do +any harm for you to go to Mrs. Follingsbee’s party on +Rose’s account. I never go to parties, as you know; +and I certainly should not begin by going there. But +still I see no objection to your taking Rose.”</p> + +<p>If Mr. Van Astrachan had seen objections, you never +would have caught Mrs. Van Astrachan going; for she +was one of your full-blooded women, who never in her +life engaged to do a thing she didn’t mean to do: and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +having promised in the marriage service to obey her +husband, she obeyed him plumb, with the air of a +person who is fulfilling the prophecies; though her +chances in this way were very small, as Mr. Van Astrachan +generally called her “ma,” and obeyed all her +orders with a stolid precision quite edifying to behold. +He took her advice always, and was often heard naively +to remark that Mrs. Van Astrachan and he were always +of the same opinion,—an expression happily defining +that state in which a man does just what his wife tells +him to.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> + +<small><i>MRS. FOLLINGSBEE’S PARTY, AND WHAT +CAME OF IT.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>OUR vulgar idea of a party is a week or fortnight +of previous discomfort and chaotic tergiversation, +and the mistress of it all distracted and worn out +with endless cares. Such a party bursts in on a +well-ordered family state as a bomb bursts into a city, +leaving confusion and disorder all around. But it +would be a pity if such a life-long devotion to the +arts and graces as Mrs. Follingsbee had given, backed +by Dick Follingsbee’s fabulous fortune, and administered +by the exquisite Charlie Ferrola, should not +have brought forth some appreciable results. One was, +that the great Castle of Indolence was prepared for the +<i>fête</i>, with no more ripple of disturbance than if it +had been a Nereid’s bower, far down beneath the reach +of tempests, where the golden sand is never ruffled, and +the crimson and blue sea flowers never even dream +of commotion.</p> + +<p>Charlie Ferrola wore, it is true, a brow somewhat +oppressed with care, and was kept tucked up on a rose-colored +satin sofa, and served with lachrymæ Christi,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +and Montefiascone, and all other substitutes for the +dews of Hybla, while he draughted designs for the +floral arrangements, which were executed by obsequious +attendants in felt slippers; and the whole process of +arrangement proceeded like a dream of the lotus-eaters’ +paradise.</p> + +<p>Madame de Tullegig was of course retained primarily +for the adornment of Mrs. Follingsbee’s person. It +was understood, however, on this occasion, that the +composition of the costumes was to embrace both hers +and Lillie’s, that they might appear in a contrasted +tableau, and bring out each other’s points. It was a +subject worthy a Parisian artiste, and drew so seriously +on Madame de Tullegig’s brain-power, that she assured +Mrs. Follingsbee afterwards that the effort of composition +had sensibly exhausted her.</p> + +<p>Before we relate the events of that evening, as they +occurred, we must give some little idea of the position +in which the respective parties now stood.</p> + +<p>Harry Endicott, by his mother’s side, was related +to Mrs. Van Astrachan. Mr. Van Astrachan had been, +in a certain way, guardian to him; and his success in +making his fortune was in consequence of capital advanced +and friendly patronage thus accorded. In the +family, therefore, he had the <i>entrée</i> of a son, and +had enjoyed the opportunity of seeing Rose with a +freedom and frequency that soon placed them on the +footing of old acquaintanceship. Rose was an easy +person to become acquainted with in an ordinary and +superficial manner. She was like those pellucid waters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +whose great clearness deceives the eye as to their +depth. Her manners had an easy and gracious frankness; +and she spoke right on, with an apparent simplicity +and fearlessness that produced at first the impression +that you knew all her heart. A longer acquaintance, +however, developed depths of reserved thought and +feeling far beyond what at first appeared.</p> + +<p>Harry, at first, had met her only on those superficial +grounds of banter and <i>badinage</i> where a gay young +gentleman and a gay young lady may reconnoitre, before +either side gives the other the smallest peep of the +key of what Dr. Holmes calls the side-door of their +hearts.</p> + +<p>Harry, to say the truth, was in a bad way when +he first knew Rose: he was restless, reckless, bitter. +Turned loose into society with an ample fortune and +nothing to do, he was in danger, according to the +homely couplet of Dr. Watts, of being provided with +employment by that undescribable personage who +makes it his business to look after idle hands.</p> + +<p>Rose had attracted him first by her beauty, all the +more attractive to him because in a style entirely different +from that which hitherto had captivated his imagination. +Rose was tall, well-knit, and graceful, and +bore herself with a sort of slender but majestic lightness, +like a meadow-lily. Her well-shaped, classical head +was set finely on her graceful neck, and she had a stag-like +way of carrying it, that impressed a stranger sometimes +as haughty; but Rose could not help that, it was +a trick of nature. Her hair was of the glossiest black,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +her skin fair as marble, her nose a little, nicely-turned +aquiline affair, her eyes of a deep violet blue and shadowed +by long dark lashes, her mouth a little larger than +the classical proportion, but generous in smiles and +laughs which revealed perfect teeth of dazzling whiteness. +There, gentlemen and ladies, is Rose Ferguson’s +picture: and, if you add to all this the most attractive +impulsiveness and self-unconsciousness, you will not +wonder that Harry Endicott at first found himself +admiring her, and fancied driving out with her in the +park; and that when admiring eyes followed them +both, as a handsome pair, Harry was well pleased.</p> + +<p>Rose, too, liked Harry Endicott. A young girl of +twenty is not a severe judge of a handsome, lively +young man, who knows far more of the world than she +does; and though Harry’s conversation was a perfect +Catherine-wheel of all sorts of wild talk,—sneering, +bitter, and sceptical, and giving expression to the most +heterodox sentiments, with the evident intention of +shocking respectable authorities,—Rose rather liked +him than otherwise; though she now and then took the +liberty to stand upon her dignity, and opened her great +blue eyes on him with a grave, inquiring look of surprise,—a +look that seemed to challenge him to stand +and defend himself. From time to time, too, she let +fall little bits of independent opinion, well poised and +well turned, that hit exactly where she meant they +should; and Harry began to stand a little in awe +of her.</p> + +<p>Harry had never known a woman like Rose; a woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +so poised and self-centred, so cultivated, so capable +of deep and just reflections, and so religious. His experience +with women had not been fortunate, as has been +seen in this narrative; and, insensibly to himself, Rose +was beginning to exercise an influence over him. The +sphere around her was cool and bright and wholesome, +as different from the hot atmosphere of passion and +sentiment and flirtation to which he had been accustomed, +as a New-England summer morning from a +sultry night in the tropics. Her power over him was +in the appeal to a wholly different part of his nature,—intellect, +conscience, and religious sensibility; and once +or twice he found himself speaking to her quietly, seriously, +and rationally, not from the purpose of pleasing +her, but because she had aroused such a strain of thought +in his own mind. There was a certain class of brilliant +sayings of his, of a cleverly irreligious and sceptical +nature, at which Rose never laughed: when this sort of +firework was let off in her presence, she opened her +eyes upon him, wide and blue, with a calm surprise +intermixed with pity, but said nothing; and, after trying +the experiment several times, he gradually felt this +silent kind of look a restraint upon him.</p> + +<p>At the same time, it must not be conjectured that, at +present, Harry Endicott was thinking of falling in love +with Rose. In fact, he scoffed at the idea of love, +and professed to disbelieve in its existence. And, +beside all this, he was gratifying an idle vanity, and +the wicked love of revenge, in visiting Lillie; sometimes +professing for days an exclusive devotion to her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +in which there was a little too much reality on both +sides to be at all safe or innocent; and then, when he +had wound her up to the point where even her involuntary +looks and words and actions towards him must +have compromised her in the eyes of others, he would +suddenly recede for days, and devote himself exclusively +to Rose; driving ostentatiously with her in the +park, where he would meet Lillie face to face, and bow +triumphantly to her in passing. All these proceedings, +talked over with Mrs. Follingsbee, seemed to +give promise of the most impassioned French romance +possible.</p> + +<p>Rose walked through all her part in this little drama, +wrapped in a veil of sacred ignorance. Had she known +the whole, the probability is that she would have refused +Harry’s acquaintance; but, like many another +nice girl, she tripped gayly near to pitfalls and chasms +of which she had not the remotest conception.</p> + +<p>Lillie’s want of self-control, and imprudent conduct, +had laid her open to reports in certain circles where +such reports find easy credence; but these were circles +with which the Van Astrachans never mingled. The +only accidental point of contact was the intimacy of +Rose with the Seymour family; and Rose was the last +person to understand an allusion if she heard it. The +reading of Rose had been carefully selected by her +father, and had not embraced any novels of the French +romantic school; neither had she, like some modern +young ladies, made her mind a highway for the tramping +of every kind of possible fictitious character which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +a novelist might choose to draw, nor taken an interest +in the dissections of morbid anatomy. In fact, she was +old-fashioned enough to like Scott’s novels; and though +she was just the kind of girl Thackeray would have +loved, she never could bring her fresh young heart to +enjoy his pictures of world-worn and decaying natures.</p> + +<p>The idea of sentimental flirtations and love-making +on the part of a married woman was one so beyond her +conception of possibilities that it would have been very +difficult to make her understand or believe it.</p> + +<p>On the occasion of the Follingsbee party, therefore, +Rose accepted Harry as an escort in simple good faith. +She was by no means so wise as not to have a deal of +curiosity about it, and not a little of dazed and dazzled +sense of enjoyment in prospect of the perfect labyrinth +of fairy-land which the Follingsbee mansion opened +before her.</p> + +<p>On the eventful evening, Mrs. Follingsbee and Lillie +stood together to receive their guests,—the former in +gold color, with magnificent point lace and diamond +tiara; while Lillie in heavenly blue, with wreaths of +misty tulle and pearl ornaments, seemed like a filmy +cloud by the setting sun.</p> + +<p>Rose, entering on Harry Endicott’s arm, in the full +bravery of a well-chosen toilet, caused a buzz of admiration +which followed them through the rooms; but Rose +was nothing to the illuminated eyes of Mrs. Follingsbee +compared with the portly form of Mrs. Van Astrachan +entering beside her, and spreading over her the wings +of motherly protection. That much-desired matron,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +serene in her point lace and diamonds, beamed around +her with an innocent kindliness, shedding respectability +wherever she moved, as a certain Russian prince was +said to shed diamonds.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/i257.jpg" width="365" height="434" alt="Couple entering ball" /> +<div class="caption">“Rose, entering on Harry Endicott’s arm.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Why, that is Mrs. Van Astrachan!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t tell me so! Is it possible?”</p> + +<p>“Which?” “Where is she?” “How in the world +did she get here?” were the whispered remarks that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +followed her wherever she moved; and Mrs. Follingsbee, +looking after her, could hardly suppress an exulting +<i>Te Deum</i>. It was done, and couldn’t be undone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Astrachan might not appear again at a +<i>salon</i> of hers for a year; but that could not do away +the patent fact, witnessed by so many eyes, that she +had been there once. Just as a modern newspaper or +magazine wants only one article of a celebrated author +to announce him as among their stated contributors for +all time, and to flavor every subsequent issue of the +journal with expectancy, so Mrs. Follingsbee exulted +in the idea that this one evening would flavor all her +receptions for the winter, whether the good lady’s +diamonds ever appeared there again or not. In her +secret heart, she always had the perception, when striving +to climb up on this kind of ladder, that the time +might come when she should be found out; and she +well knew the absolute and uncomprehending horror +with which that good lady would regard the French +principles and French practice of which Charlie Ferrola +and Co. were the expositors and exemplars.</p> + +<p>This was what Charlie Ferrola meant when he said +that the Van Astrachans were obtuse. They never +could be brought to the niceties of moral perspective +which show one exactly where to find the vanishing +point for every duty.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, there, at any rate, she was, safe +and sound; surrounded by people whom she had never +met before, and receiving introductions to the right and +left with the utmost graciousness. The arrangements<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +for the evening had been made at the tea-table of the +Van Astrachans with an innocent and trustful simplicity.</p> + +<p>“You know, dear,” said Mrs. Van Astrachan to +Rose, “that I never like to stay long away from papa” +(so the worthy lady called her husband); “and so, if +it’s just the same to you, you shall let me have the +carriage come for me early, and then you and Harry +shall be left free to see it out. I know young folks +must be young,” she said, with a comfortable laugh. +“There was a time, dear, when my waist was not bigger +than yours, that I used to dance all night with the best +of them; but I’ve got bravely over that now.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<img src="images/i259.jpg" width="387" height="317" alt="Older couple and younger woman, all seated" /> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Van Astrachans.</span></div> +</div> + +<p>“Yes, Rose,” said Mr. Van Astrachan, “you mayn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +believe it, but ma there was the spryest dancer of +any of the girls. You are pretty nice to look at, but +you don’t quite come up to what she was in those days. +I tell you, I wish you could have seen her,” said the +good man, warming to his subject. “Why, I’ve seen +the time when every fellow on the floor was after her.”</p> + +<p>“Papa,” says Mrs. Van Astrachan, reprovingly, “I +wouldn’t say such things if I were you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I would,” said Rose. “Do tell us, Mr. Van +Astrachan.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Van Astrachan: “you +ought to have seen her in a red dress she used to +wear.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, papa! what nonsense! Rose, I never +wore a red dress in my life; it was a pink silk; but you +know men never do know the names for colors.”</p> + +<p>“Well, at any rate,” said Mr. Van Astrachan, hardily, +“pink or red, no matter; but I’ll tell you, she took all +before her that evening. There were Stuyvesants and +Van Rennselaers and Livingstons, and all sorts of grand +fellows, in her train; but, somehow, I cut ’em out. +There is no such dancing nowadays as there was when +wife and I were young. I’ve been caught once or twice +in one of their parties; and I don’t call it dancing. I +call it draggle-tailing. They don’t take any steps, and +there is no spirit in it.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rose, “I know we moderns are very +much to be pitied. Papa always tells me the same story +about mamma, and the days when he was young. But, +dear Mrs. Van Astrachan, I hope you won’t stay a moment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +on my account, after you get tired. I suppose if +you are just seen with me there in the beginning of the +evening, it will matronize me enough; and then I have +engaged to dance the ‘German’ with Mr. Endicott, +and I believe they keep that up till nobody knows when. +But I am determined to see the whole through.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes! see it all through,” said Mr. Van Astrachan. +“Young people must be young. It’s all right enough, +and you won’t miss my Polly after you get fairly into +it near so much as I shall. I’ll sit up for her till twelve +o’clock, and read my paper.”</p> + +<p>Rose was at first, to say the truth, bewildered and +surprised by the perfect labyrinth of fairy-land which +Charlie Ferrola’s artistic imagination had created in the +Follingsbee mansion.</p> + +<p>Initiated people, who had travelled in Europe, said it +put them in mind of the “Jardin Mabille;” and those +who had not were reminded of some of the wonders of +“The Black Crook.” There were apartments turned +into bowers and grottoes, where the gas-light shimmered +behind veils of falling water, and through pendant +leaves of all sorts of strange water-plants of +tropical regions. There were all those wonderful leaf-plants +of every weird device of color, which have been +conjured up by tricks of modern gardening, as Rappacini +is said to have created his strange garden in Padua. +There were beds of hyacinths and crocuses and tulips, +made to appear like living gems by the jets of gas-light +which came up among them in glass flowers of the same +form. Far away in recesses were sofas of soft green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +velvet turf, overshadowed by trailing vines, and illuminated +with moonlight-softness by hidden alabaster +lamps. The air was heavy with the perfume of flowers, +and the sound of music and dancing from the ballroom +came to these recesses softened by distance.</p> + +<p>The Follingsbee mansion occupied a whole square of +the city; and these enchanted bowers were created by +temporary enlargements of the conservatory covering +the ground of the garden. With money, and the Croton +Water-works, and all the New-York greenhouses +at disposal, nothing was impossible.</p> + +<p>There was in this reception no vulgar rush or crush +or jam. The apartments opened were so extensive, +and the attractions in so many different directions, that +there did not appear to be a crowd anywhere.</p> + +<p>There was no general table set, with the usual liabilities +of rush and crush; but four or five well-kept rooms, +fragrant with flowers and sparkling with silver and crystal, +were ready at any hour to minister to the guest +whatever delicacy or dainty he or she might demand; +and light-footed waiters circulated with noiseless obsequiousness +through all the rooms, proffering dainties on +silver trays.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Astrachan and Rose at first found themselves +walking everywhere, with a fresh and lively +interest. It was something quite out of the line of the +good lady’s previous experience, and so different from +any thing she had ever seen before, as to keep her in a +state of placid astonishment. Rose, on the other hand, +was delighted and excited; the more so that she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +not help perceiving that she herself amid all these +objects of beauty was followed by the admiring glances +of many eyes.</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that a girl so handsome as +Rose comes to her twentieth year without having the +pretty secret made known to her in more ways than +one, or that thus made known it is any thing but agreeable; +but, on the present occasion, there was a buzz of +inquiry and a crowd of applicants about her; and her +dancing-list seemed in a fair way to be soon filled up +for the evening, Harry telling her laughingly that he +would let her off from every thing but the “German;” +but that she might consider her engagement with him +as a standing one whenever troubled with an application +which for any reason she did not wish to accept.</p> + +<p>Harry assumed towards Rose that air of brotherly +guardianship which a young man who piques himself on +having seen a good deal of the world likes to take with +a pretty girl who knows less of it. Besides, he rather +valued himself on having brought to the reception the +most brilliant girl of the evening.</p> + +<p>Our friend Lillie, however, was in her own way as +entrancingly beautiful this evening as the most perfect +mortal flesh and blood could be made; and Harry went +back to her when Rose went off with her partners as a +moth flies to a candle, not with any express intention +of burning his wings, but simply because he likes to be +dazzled, and likes the bitter excitement. He felt now +that he had power over her,—a bad, a dangerous power +he knew, with what of conscience was left in him; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +he thought, “Let her take her own risk.” And so, many +busy gossips saw the handsome young man, his great +dark eyes kindled with an evil light, whirling in dizzy +mazes with this cloud of flossy mist; out of which +looked up to him an impassioned woman’s face, and +eyes that said what those eyes had no right to say.</p> + +<p>There are times, in such scenes of bewilderment, +when women are as truly out of their own control by +nervous excitement as if they were intoxicated; and +Lillie’s looks and words and actions towards Harry were +as open a declaration of her feelings as if she had spoken +them aloud to every one present.</p> + +<p>The scandals about them were confirmed in the eyes +of every one that looked on; for there were plenty of +people present in whose view of things the worst possible +interpretation was the most probable one.</p> + +<p>Rose was in the way, during the course of the evening, +of hearing remarks of the most disagreeable and +startling nature with regard to the relations of Harry +and Lillie to each other. They filled her with a sort of +horror, as if she had come to an unwholesome place; +while she indignantly repelled them from her thoughts, +as every uncontaminated woman will the first suspicion +of the purity of a sister woman. In Rose’s view it was +monstrous and impossible. Yet when she stood at +one time in a group to see them waltzing, she started, +and felt a cold shudder, as a certain instinctive conviction +of something not right forced itself on her. She +closed her eyes, and wished herself away; wished that +she had not let Mrs. Van Astrachan go home without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +her; wished that somebody would speak to Lillie and +caution her; felt an indignant rising of her heart against +Harry, and was provoked at herself that she was engaged +to him for the “German.”</p> + +<p>She turned away; and, taking the arm of the gentleman +with her, complained of the heat as oppressive, +and they sauntered off together into the bowery region +beyond.</p> + +<p>“Oh, now! where can I have left my fan?” she said, +suddenly stopping.</p> + +<p>“Let me go back and get it for you,” said he of the +whiskers who attended her. It was one of the dancing +young men of New York, and it is no particular matter +what his name was.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Rose: “I believe I left it on the +sofa in the yellow drawing-room.” He was gone in a +moment.</p> + +<p>Rose wandered on a little way, through the labyrinth +of flowers and shadowy trees and fountains, and sat +down on an artificial rock where she fell into a deep +reverie. Rising to go back, she missed her way, and +became quite lost, and went on uneasily, conscious that +she had committed a rudeness in not waiting for her +attendant.</p> + +<p>At this moment she looked through a distant alcove +of shrubbery, and saw Harry and Lillie standing +together,—she with both hands laid upon his arm, +looking up to him and speaking rapidly with an +imploring accent. She saw him, with an angry frown, +push Lillie from him so rudely that she almost fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +backward, and sat down with her handkerchief to her +eyes; he came forward hurriedly, and met the eyes of +Rose fixed upon him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;"> +<img src="images/i266.jpg" width="344" height="429" alt="man pushing woman down" /> +<div class="caption">“She saw him, with an angry frown, push Lillie from him.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“Mr. Endicott,” she said, “I have to ask a favor of +you. Will you be so good as to excuse me from the +‘German’ to-night, and order my carriage?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Miss Ferguson, what is the matter?” he +said: “what has come over you? I hope I have not +had the misfortune to do any thing to displease you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without replying to this, Rose answered, “I feel very +unwell. My head is aching violently, and I cannot go +through the rest of the evening. I must go home at +once.” She spoke it in a decided tone that admitted +of no question.</p> + +<p>Without answer, Harry Endicott gave her his arm, +accompanied her through the final leave-takings, went +with her to the carriage, put her in, and sprang in after +her.</p> + +<p>Rose sank back on her seat, and remained perfectly +silent; and Harry, after a few remarks of his had failed +to elicit a reply, rode by her side equally silent through +the streets homeward.</p> + +<p>He had Mr. Van Astrachan’s latch-key; and, when +the carriage stopped, he helped Rose to alight, and +went up the steps of the house.</p> + +<p>“Miss Ferguson,” he said abruptly, “I have something +I want to say to you.”</p> + +<p>“Not now, not to-night,” said Rose, hurriedly. “I +am too tired; and it is too late.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow then,” he said: “I shall call when you +will have had time to be rested. Good-night!”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> + +<small><i>THE SPIDER-WEB BROKEN.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>HARRY did not go back, to lead the “German,” as +he had been engaged to do. In fact, in his last +apologies to Mrs. Follingsbee, he had excused himself +on account of his partner’s sudden indisposition,—a +thing which made no small buzz and commotion; +though the missing gap, like all gaps great and little in +human society, soon found somebody to step into it: and +the dance went on just as gayly as if they had been there.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, there were in this good city of New York +a couple of sleepless individuals, revolving many things +uneasily during the night-watches, or at least that portion +of the night-watches that remained after they +reached home,—to wit, Mr. Harry Endicott and Miss +Rose Ferguson.</p> + +<p>What had taken place in that little scene between +Lillie and Harry, the termination of which was seen by +Rose? We are not going to give a minute description. +The public has already been circumstantially instructed +by such edifying books as “Cometh up as a Flower,” +and others of a like turn, in what manner and in what +terms married women can abdicate the dignity of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +sex, and degrade themselves so far as to offer their +whole life, and their whole selves, to some reluctant man, +with too much remaining conscience or prudence to +accept the sacrifice.</p> + +<p>It was from some such wild, passionate utterances +of Lillie that Harry felt a recoil of mingled conscience, +fear, and that disgust which man feels when she, whom +God made to be sought, degrades herself to seek. +There is no edification and no propriety in highly +colored and minute drawing of such scenes of temptation +and degradation, though they are the stock +and staple of some French novels, and more disgusting +English ones made on their model. Harry felt +in his own conscience that he had been acting a +most unworthy part, that no advances on the part +of Lillie could excuse his conduct; and his thoughts +went back somewhat regretfully to the days long ago, +when she was a fair, pretty, innocent girl, and he had +loved her honestly and truly. Unperceived by himself, +the character of Rose was exerting a powerful +influence over him; and, when he met that look of pain +and astonishment which he had seen in her large blue +eyes the night before, it seemed to awaken many things +within him. It is astonishing how blindly people sometimes +go on as to the character of their own conduct, +till suddenly, like a torch in a dark place, the light of +another person’s opinion is thrown in upon them, and +they begin to judge themselves under the quickening +influence of another person’s moral magnetism. Then, +indeed, it often happens that the graves give up their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +dead, and that there is a sort of interior resurrection +and judgment.</p> + +<p>Harry did not seem to be consciously thinking of Rose, +and yet the undertone of all that night’s uneasiness was +a something that had been roused and quickened in him +by his acquaintance with her. How he loathed himself +for the last few weeks of his life! How he loathed that +hot, lurid, murky atmosphere of flirtation and passion +and French sentimentality in which he had been living!—atmosphere +as hard to draw healthy breath in as the +odor of wilting tuberoses the day after a party.</p> + +<p>Harry valued Rose’s good opinion as he had never +valued it before; and, as he thought of her in his +restless tossings, she seemed to him something as pure, +as wholesome, and strong as the air of his native +New-England hills, as the sweet-brier and sweet-fern +he used to love to gather when he was a boy. She +seemed of a piece with all the good old ways of New +England,—its household virtues, its conscientious sense +of right, its exact moral boundaries; and he felt somehow +as if she belonged to that healthy portion of his +life which he now looked back upon with something of +regret.</p> + +<p>Then, what would she think of him? They had been +friends, he said to himself; they had passed over those +boundaries of teasing unreality where most young +gentlemen and young ladies are content to hold converse +with each other, and had talked together reasonably +and seriously, saying in some hours what they +really thought and felt. And Rose had impressed him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +at times by her silence and reticence in certain connections, +and on certain subjects, with a sense of something +hidden and veiled,—a reserved force that he longed still +further to penetrate. But now, he said to himself, he +must have fallen in her opinion. Why was she so cold, +so almost haughty, in her treatment of him the night +before? He felt in the atmosphere around her, and in +the touch of her hand, that she was quivering like a +galvanic battery with the suppressed force of some +powerful emotion; and his own conscience dimly interpreted +to him what it might be.</p> + +<p>To say the truth, Rose was terribly aroused. And +there was a great deal in her to be aroused, for she +had a strong nature; and the whole force of womanhood +in her had never received such a shock.</p> + +<p>Whatever may be scoffingly said of the readiness +of women to pull one another down, it is certain that +the highest class of them have the feminine <i>esprit de +corps</i> immensely strong. The humiliation of another +woman seems to them their own humiliation; and +man’s lordly contempt for another woman seems like +contempt of themselves.</p> + +<p>The deepest feeling roused in Rose by the scenes +which she saw last night was concern for the honor +of womanhood; and her indignation at first did not +strike where we are told woman’s indignation does, +on the woman, but on the man. Loving John Seymour +as a brother from her childhood, feeling in the +intimacy in which they had grown up as if their +families had been one, the thoughts that had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +forced upon her of his wife the night before had struck +to her heart with the weight of a terrible affliction. +She judged Lillie as a pure woman generally judges +another,—out of herself,—and could not and would +not believe that the gross and base construction which +had been put upon her conduct was the true one. She +looked upon her as led astray by inordinate vanity, and +the hopeless levity of an undeveloped, unreflecting +habit of mind. She was indignant with Harry for the +part that he had taken in the affair, and indignant +and vexed with herself for the degree of freedom and +intimacy which she had been suffering to grow up +between him and herself. Her first impulse was to +break it off altogether, and have nothing more to say to +or do with him. She felt as if she would like to take +the short course which young girls sometimes take out +of the first serious mortification or trouble in their life, +and run away from it altogether. She would have +liked to have packed her trunk, taken her seat on board +the cars, and gone home to Springdale the next day, +and forgotten all about the whole of it; but then, what +should she say to Mrs. Van Astrachan? what account +could she give for the sudden breaking up of her +visit?</p> + +<p>Then, there was Harry going to call on her the next +day! What ought she to say to him? On the whole, +it was a delicate matter for a young girl of twenty +to manage alone. How she longed to have the counsel +of her sister or her mother! She thought of Mrs. Van +Astrachan; but then, again, she did not wish to disturb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +that good lady’s pleasant, confidential relations with +Harry, and tell tales of him out of school: so, on the +whole, she had a restless and uncomfortable night of it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Astrachan expressed her surprise at seeing +Rose take her place at the breakfast-table the next +morning. “Dear me!” she said, “I was just telling +Jane to have some breakfast kept for you. I had no +idea of seeing you down at this time.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Rose, “I gave out entirely, and came +away only an hour after you did. The fact is, we +country girls can’t stand this sort of thing. I had such +a terrible headache, and felt so tired and exhausted, +that I got Mr. Endicott to bring me away before the +‘German.’”</p> + +<p>“Bless me!” said Mr. Van Astrachan; “why, you’re +not at all up to snuff! Why, Polly, you and I used to +stick it out till daylight! didn’t we?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, Mr. Van Astrachan, I hadn’t anybody +like you to stick it out with,” said Rose. “Perhaps +that made the difference.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, now, I am sure there’s our Harry! I am +sure a girl must be difficult, if he doesn’t suit her for a +beau,” said the good gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Endicott is all well enough!” said Rose; +“only, you observe, not precisely to me what you were +to the lady you call Polly,—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed Mr. Van Astrachan. “Well, to +be sure, that does make a difference; but Harry’s a +nice fellow, nice fellow, Miss Rose: not many fellows +like him, as I think.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” chimed in Mrs. Van Astrachan. “I +haven’t a son in the world that I think more of than +I do of Harry; he has such a good heart.”</p> + +<p>Now, the fact was, this eulogistic strain that the +worthy couple were very prone to fall into in speaking +of Harry to Rose was this morning most especially +annoying to her; and she turned the subject at once, +by chattering so fluently, and with such minute details +of description, about the arrangements of the rooms +and the flowers and the lamps and the fountains and +the cascades, and all the fairy-land wonders of the +Follingsbee party, that the good pair found themselves +constrained to be listeners during the rest of the time +devoted to the morning meal.</p> + +<p>It will be found that good young ladies, while of +course they have all the innocence of the dove, do +display upon emergencies a considerable share of the +wisdom of the serpent. And on this same mother wit +and wisdom, Rose called internally, when that day, +about eleven o’clock, she was summoned to the library, +to give Harry his audience.</p> + +<p>Truth to say, she was in a state of excited womanhood +vastly becoming to her general appearance, and +entered the library with flushed cheeks and head erect, +like one prepared to stand for herself and for her sex.</p> + +<p>Harry, however, wore a mortified, semi-penitential +air, that, on the first glance, rather mollified her. Still, +however, she was not sufficiently clement to give him +the least assistance in opening the conversation, by the +suggestions of any of those nice little oily nothings with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +which ladies, when in a gracious mood, can smooth the +path for a difficult confession.</p> + +<p>She sat very quietly, with her hands before her, while +Harry walked tumultuously up and down the room.</p> + +<p>“Miss Ferguson,” he said at last, abruptly, “I know +you are thinking ill of me.”</p> + +<p>Miss Ferguson did not reply.</p> + +<p>“I had hoped,” he said, “that there had been a +little something more than mere acquaintance between +us. I had hoped you looked upon me as a friend.”</p> + +<p>“I did, Mr. Endicott,” said Rose.</p> + +<p>“And you do not now?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot say that,” she said, after a pause; “but, +Mr. Endicott, if we are friends, you must give me +the liberty to speak plainly.”</p> + +<p>“That’s exactly what I want you to do!” he said +impetuously; “that is just what I wish.”</p> + +<p>“Allow me to ask, then, if you are an early friend, +and family connection of Mrs. John Seymour?”</p> + +<p>“I was an early friend, and am somewhat of a +family connection.”</p> + +<p>“That is, I understand there has been a ground +in your past history for you to be on a footing of a +certain family intimacy with Mrs. Seymour; in that +case, Mr. Endicott, I think you ought to have considered +yourself the guardian of her honor and reputation, +and not allowed her to be compromised on your +account.”</p> + +<p>The blood flushed into Harry’s face; and he stood +abashed and silent. Rose went on,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I was shocked, I was astonished, last night, because +I could not help overhearing the most disagreeable, the +most painful remarks on you and her,—remarks most +unjust, I am quite sure, but for which I fear you have +given too much reason!”</p> + +<p>“Miss Ferguson,” said Harry, stopping as he walked +up and down, “I confess I have been wrong and done +wrong; but, if you knew all, you might see how I have +been led into it. That woman has been the evil fate of +my life. Years ago, when we were both young, I loved +her as honestly as man could love a woman; and she +professed to love me in return. But I was poor; and +she would not marry me. She sent me off, yet she +would not let me forget her. She would always write +to me just enough to keep up hope and interest; and +she knew for years that all my object in striving for +fortune was to win her. At last, when a lucky stroke +made me suddenly rich, and I came home to seek her, I +found her married,—married, as she owns, without +love,—married for wealth and ambition. I don’t +justify myself,—I don’t pretend to; but when she +met me with her old smiles and her old charms, and +told me she loved me still, it roused the very devil in +me. I wanted revenge. I wanted to humble her, and +make her suffer all she had made me; and I didn’t care +what came of it.”</p> + +<p>Harry spoke, trembling with emotion; and Rose felt +almost terrified with the storm she had raised.</p> + +<p>“O Mr. Endicott!” she said, “was this worthy of +you? was there nothing better, higher, more manly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +than this poor revenge? You men are stronger than +we: you have the world in your hands; you have a +thousand resources where we have only one. And you +ought to be stronger and nobler according to your +advantages; you ought to rise superior to the temptations +that beset a poor, weak, ill-educated woman, +whom everybody has been flattering from her cradle, +and whom you, I dare say, have helped to flatter, +turning her head with compliments, like all the rest +of them. Come, now, is not there something in +that?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose,” said Harry, “that when Lillie and +I were girl and boy together, I did flatter her, sincerely +that is. Her beauty made a fool of me; and I helped +make a fool of her.”</p> + +<p>“And I dare say,” said Rose, “you told her that all +she was made for was to be charming, and encouraged +her to live the life of a butterfly or canary-bird. Did +you ever try to strengthen her principles, to educate +her mind, to make her strong? On the contrary, haven’t +you been bowing down and adoring her for being weak? +It seems to me that Lillie is exactly the kind of woman +that you men educate, by the way you look on women, +and the way you treat them.”</p> + +<p>Harry sat in silence, ruminating.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Rose, “it seems to me it’s the most +cowardly and unmanly thing in the world for men, with +every advantage in their hands, with all the strength +that their kind of education gives them, with all their +opportunities,—a thousand to our one,—to hunt down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +these poor little silly women, whom society keeps stunted +and dwarfed for their special amusement.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Ferguson, you are very severe,” said Harry, +his face flushing.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rose, “you have this advantage, Mr. +Endicott: you know, if I am, the world will not be. +Everybody will take your part; everybody will smile +on you, and condemn her. That is generous, is it not? +I think, after all, Noah Claypole isn’t so very uncommon +a picture of the way that your lordly sex turn round +and cast all the blame on ours. You will never make me +believe in a protracted flirtation between a gentleman +and lady, where at least half the blame does not lie on +his lordship’s side. I always said that a woman had no +need to have offers made her by a man she could not +love, if she conducted herself properly; and I think +the same is true in regard to men. But then, as I +said before, you have the world on your side; nine +persons out of ten see no possible harm in a man’s +taking every advantage of a woman, if she will let +him.”</p> + +<p>“But I care more for the opinion of the tenth person +than of the nine,” said Harry; “I care more for what +you think than any of them. Your words are severe; +but I think they are just.”</p> + +<p>“O Mr. Endicott!” said Rose, “live for something +higher than for what I think,—than for what any one +thinks. Think how many glorious chances there are +for a noble career for a young man with your fortune, +with your leisure, with your influence! is it for you to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +waste life in this unworthy way? If I had your chances, +I would try to do something worth doing.”</p> + +<p>Rose’s face kindled with enthusiasm; and Harry +looked at her with admiration.</p> + +<p>“Tell me what I ought to do!” he said.</p> + +<p>“I cannot tell you,” said Rose; “but where there is +a will there is a way: and, if you have the will, you +will find the way. But, first, you must try and repair +the mischief you have done to Lillie. By your own +account of the matter, you have been encouraging and +keeping up a sort of silly, romantic excitement in her. +It is worse than silly; it is sinful. It is trifling with +her best interests in this life and the life to come. And +I think you must know that, if you had treated her +like an honest, plain-spoken brother or cousin, without +any trumpery of gallantry or sentiment, things would +have never got to be as they are. You could have prevented +all this; and you can put an end to it now.”</p> + +<p>“Honestly, I will try,” said Harry. “I will begin, by +confessing my faults like a good boy, and take the blame +on myself where it belongs, and try to make Lillie see +things like a good girl. But she is in bad surroundings; +and, if I were her husband, I wouldn’t let her stay there +another day. There are no morals in that circle; it’s +all a perfect crush of decaying garbage.”</p> + +<p>“I think,” said Rose, “that, if this thing goes no +farther, it will gradually die out even in that circle; +and, in the better circles of New York, I trust it will +not be heard of. Mrs. Van Astrachan and I will appear +publicly with Lillie; and if she is seen with us, and at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +this house, it will be sufficient to contradict a dozen +slanders. She has the noblest, kindest husband,—one +of the best men and truest gentlemen I ever knew.”</p> + +<p>“I pity him then,” said Harry.</p> + +<p>“He is to be pitied,” said Rose; “but his work is +before him. This woman, such as she is, with all her +faults, he has taken for better or for worse; and all true +friends and good people, both his and hers, should help +both sides to make the best of it.”</p> + +<p>“I should say,” said Harry, “that there is in this no +best side.”</p> + +<p>“I think you do Lillie injustice,” said Rose. “There +is, and must be, good in every one; and gradually the +good in him will overcome the evil in her.”</p> + +<p>“Let us hope so,” said Harry. “And now, Miss +Ferguson, may I hope that you won’t quite cross my +name out of your good book? You’ll be friends with +me, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly!” said Rose, with a frank smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, let’s shake hands on that,” said Harry, rising +to go.</p> + +<p>Rose gave him her hand, and the two parted in all +amity.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> + +<small><i>COMMON-SENSE ARGUMENTS.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>HARRY went straightway from the interview to +call upon Lillie, and had a conversation with +her; in which he conducted himself like a sober, discreet, +and rational man. It was one of those daylight, +matter-of-fact kinds of talks, with no nonsense about +them, in which things are called by their right names. +He confessed his own sins, and took upon his own +shoulders the blame that properly belonged there; +and, having thus cleared his conscience, took occasion +to give Lillie a deal of grandfatherly advice, of a very +sedative tendency.</p> + +<p>They had both been very silly, he said; and the next +step to being silly very often was to be wicked. For +his part, he thought she ought to be thankful for so +good a husband; and, for his own part, he should lose +no time in trying to find a good wife, who would help +him to be a good man, and do something worth doing +in the world. He had given people occasion to say +ill-natured things about her; and he was sorry for it. +But, if they stopped being imprudent, the world would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +in time stop talking. He hoped, some of these days, to +bring his wife down to see her, and to make the acquaintance +of her husband, whom he knew to be a capital fellow, +and one that she ought to be proud of.</p> + +<p>Thus, by the intervention of good angels, the little +paper-nautilus bark of Lillie’s fortunes was prevented +from going down in the great ugly maelstrom, on the +verge of which it had been so heedlessly sailing.</p> + +<p>Harry was not slow in pushing the advantage of his +treaty of friendship with Rose to its utmost limits; and, +being a young gentleman of parts and proficiency, he +made rapid progress.</p> + +<p>The interview of course immediately bred the necessity +for at least a dozen more; for he had to explain +this thing, and qualify that, and, on reflection, would +find by the next day that the explanation and qualification +required a still further elucidation. Rose also, +after the first conversation was over, was troubled at +her own boldness, and at the things that she in her +state of excitement had said; and so was only too glad +to accord interviews and explanations as often as +sought, and, on the whole, was in the most favorable +state towards her penitent.</p> + +<p>Hence came many calls, and many conferences with +Rose in the library, to Mrs. Van Astrachan’s great satisfaction, +and concerning which Mr. Van Astrachan +had many suppressed chuckles and knowing winks at +Polly.</p> + +<p>“Now, pa, don’t you say a word,” said Mrs. Van +Astrachan.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, no, Polly! catch me! I see a great deal, but I +say nothing,” said the good gentleman, with a jocular +quiver of his portly person. “I don’t say any thing,—oh, +no! by no manner of means.”</p> + +<p>Neither at present did Harry; neither do we.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> + +<small><i>SENTIMENT</i> v. <i>SENSIBILITY.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE poet has feelingly sung the condition of</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">“The banquet hall deserted,</div> +<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Whose lights are fled, and garlands dead,” &c.,</span></div> +</div></div></div> + +<p class='unindent'>and so we need not cast the daylight of minute description +on the Follingsbee mansion.</p> + +<p>Charlie Ferrola, however, was summoned away at +early daylight, just as the last of the revellers were dispersing, +by a hurried messenger from his wife; and, a +few moments after he entered his house, he was standing +beside his dying baby,—the little fellow whom we +have seen brought down on Mrs. Ferrola’s arm, to greet +the call of Mrs. Follingsbee.</p> + +<p>It is an awful thing for people of the flimsy, vain, +pain-shunning, pleasure-seeking character of Charlie +Ferrola, to be taken at times, as such people will be, in +the grip of an inexorable power, and held face to face +with the sternest, the most awful, the most frightful +realities of life. Charlie Ferrola was one of those whose +softness and pitifulness, like that of sentimentalists generally, +was only one form of intense selfishness. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +sight of suffering pained him; and his first impulse was +to get out of the way of it. Suffering that he did not +see was nothing to him; and, if his wife or children +were in any trouble, he would have liked very well to +have known nothing about it.</p> + +<p>But here he was, by the bedside of this little creature, +dying in the agonies of slow suffocation, rolling +up its dark, imploring eyes, and lifting its poor little +helpless hands; and Charlie Ferrola broke out into +the most violent and extravagant demonstrations of +grief.</p> + +<p>The pale, firm little woman, who had watched all +night, and in whose tranquil face a light as if from +heaven was beaming, had to assume the care of him, in +addition to that of her dying child. He was another +helpless burden on her hands.</p> + +<p>There came a day when the house was filled with +white flowers, and people came and went, and holy +words were spoken; and the fairest flower of all was +carried out, to return to the house no more.</p> + +<p>“That woman is a most unnatural and peculiar +woman!” said Mrs. Follingsbee, who had been most +active and patronizing in sending flowers, and attending +to the scenic arrangements of the funeral. “It is +just what I always said: she is a perfect statue; she’s +no kind of feeling. There was Charlie, poor fellow! so +sick that he had to go to bed, perfectly overcome, and +have somebody to sit up with him; and there was that +woman never shed a tear,—went round attending to +every thing, just like a piece of clock-work. Well, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +suppose people are happier for being made so; people +that have no sensibility are better fitted to get through +the world. But, gracious me! I can’t understand such +people. There she stood at the grave, looking so calm, +when Charlie was sobbing so that he could hardly +hold himself up. Well, it really wasn’t respectable. I +think, at least, I would keep my veil down, and keep +my handkerchief up. Poor Charlie! he came to me at +last; and I gave way. I was completely broken down, +I must confess. Poor fellow! he told me there was no +conceiving his misery. That baby was the very idol of +his soul; all his hopes of life were centred in it. He +really felt tempted to rebel at Providence. He said +that he really could not talk with his wife on the subject. +He could not enter into her submission at all; +it seemed to him like a want of feeling. He said of +course it wasn’t her fault that she was made one way +and he another.”</p> + +<p>In fact, Mr. Charlie Ferrola took to the pink satin +boudoir with a more languishing persistency than ever, +requiring to be stayed with flagons, and comforted with +apples, and receiving sentimental calls of condolence +from fair admirers, made aware of the intense poignancy +of his grief. A lovely poem, called “My Withered +Blossom,” which appeared in a fashionable magazine +shortly after, was the out-come of this experience, and +increased the fashionable sympathy to the highest +degree.</p> + +<p>Honest Mrs. Van Astrachan, however, though not +acquainted with Mrs. Ferrola, went to the funeral with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +Rose; and the next day her carriage was seen at Mrs. +Ferrola’s door.</p> + +<p>“You poor little darling!” she said, as she came up +and took Mrs. Ferrola in her arms. “You must let me +come, and not mind me; for I know all about it. I lost +the dearest little baby once; and I have never forgotten +it. There! there, darling!” she said, as the little woman +broke into sobs in her arms. “Yes, yes; do cry! +it will do your little heart good.”</p> + +<p>There are people who, wherever they move, freeze the +hearts of those they touch, and chill all demonstration +of feeling; and there are warm natures, that unlock +every fountain, and bid every feeling gush forth. The +reader has seen these two types in this story.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>“Wife,” said Mr. Van Astrachan, coming to Mrs. +V. confidentially a day or two after, “I wonder if +you remember any of your French. What is a +<i>liaison?</i>”</p> + +<p>“Really, dear,” said Mrs. Van Astrachan, whose reading +of late years had been mostly confined to such +memoirs as that of Mrs. Isabella Graham, Doddridge’s +“Rise and Progress,” and Baxter’s “Saint’s Rest,” “it’s +a great while since I read any French. What do you +want to know for?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s Ben Stuyvesant was saying this morning, +in Wall Street, that there’s a great deal of talk about +that Mrs. Follingsbee and that young fellow whose +baby’s funeral you went to. Ben says there’s a <i>liaison</i> +between her and him. I didn’t ask him what ’twas;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +but it’s something or other with a French name that +makes talk, and I don’t think it’s respectable! I’m +sorry that you and Rose went to her party; but then +that can’t be helped now. I’m afraid this Mrs. Follingsbee +is no sort of a woman, after all.”</p> + +<p>“But, pa, I’ve been to call on Mrs. Ferrola, poor +little afflicted thing!” said Mrs. Van Astrachan. “I +couldn’t help it! You know how we felt when little +Willie died.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly, Polly! call on the poor woman by all +means, and do all you can to comfort her; but, from all +I can find out, that handsome jackanapes of a husband +of hers is just the poorest trash going. They say this +Follingsbee woman half supports him. The time was +in New York when such doings wouldn’t be allowed; +and I don’t think calling things by French names makes +them a bit better. So you just be careful, and steer as +clear of her as you can.”</p> + +<p>“I will, pa, just as clear as I can; but you know +Rose is a friend of Mrs. John Seymour; and Mrs. Seymour +is visiting at Mrs. Follingsbee’s.”</p> + +<p>“Her husband oughtn’t to let her stay there another +day,” said Mr. Van Astrachan. “It’s as much as any +woman’s reputation is worth to be staying with her. +To think of that fellow being dancing and capering at +that Jezebel’s house the night his baby was dying!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but, pa, he didn’t know it.”</p> + +<p>“Know it? he ought to have known it! What business +has a man to get a woman with a lot of babies +round her, and then go capering off? ’Twasn’t the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +I did, Polly, you know, when our babies were young. +I was always on the spot there, ready to take the +baby, and walk up and down with it nights, so that +you might get your sleep; and I always had it my +side of the bed half the night. I’d like to have seen +myself out at a ball, and you sitting up with a sick +baby! I tell you, that if I caught any of my boys +up to such tricks, I’d cut them out of my will, and +settle the money on their wives;—that’s what I +would!”</p> + +<p>“Well, pa, I shall try and do all in my power for poor +Mrs. Ferrola,” said Mrs. Van Astrachan; “and you +may be quite sure I won’t take another step towards +Mrs. Follingsbee’s acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity,” said Mr. Van Astrachan, “that somebody +couldn’t put it into Mr. John Seymour’s head to +send for his wife home.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see, for my part, what respectable women +want to be gallivanting and high-flying on their own +separate account for, away from their husbands! Goods +that are sold shouldn’t go back to the shop-windows,” +said the good gentleman, all whose views of life were +of the most old-fashioned, domestic kind.</p> + +<p>“Well, dear, we don’t want to talk to Rose about +any of this scandal,” said his wife.</p> + +<p>“No, no; it would be a pity to put any thing bad +into a nice girl’s head,” said Mr. Van Astrachan. “You +might caution her in a general way, you know; tell her, +for instance, that I’ve heard of things that make me feel +you ought to draw off. Why can’t some bird of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +air tell that little Seymour woman’s husband to get her +home?”</p> + +<p>The little Seymour woman’s husband, though not +warned by any particular bird of the air, was not backward +in taking steps for the recall of his wife, as shall +hereafter appear.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> + +<small><i>WEDDING BELLS.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>SOME weeks had passed in Springdale while these +affairs had been going on in New York. The +time for the marriage of Grace had been set; and she +had gone to Boston to attend to that preparatory shopping +which even the most sensible of the sex discover +to be indispensable on such occasions.</p> + +<p>Grace inclined, in the centre of her soul, to Bostonian +rather than New-York preferences. She had the innocent +impression that a classical severity and a rigid +reticence of taste pervaded even the rebellious department +of feminine millinery in the city of the Pilgrims,—an +idea which we rather think young Boston would +laugh down as an exploded superstition, young Boston’s +leading idea at the present hour being apparently to +outdo New York in New York’s imitation of Paris.</p> + +<p>In fact, Grace found it very difficult to find a milliner +who, if left to her own devices, would not befeather +and beflower her past all self-recognition, giving to her +that generally betousled and fly-away air which comes +straight from the <i>demi-monde</i> of Paris.</p> + +<p>We apprehend that the recent storms of tribulation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +which have beat upon those fairy islands of fashion +may scatter this frail and fanciful population, and send +them by shiploads on missions of civilization to our +shores; in which case, the bustle and animation and the +brilliant display on the old turnpike, spoken of familiarly +as the “broad road,” will be somewhat increased.</p> + +<p>Grace however managed, by the exercise of a good +individual taste, to come out of these shopping conflicts +in good order,—a handsome, well-dressed, charming +woman, with everybody’s best wishes for, and sympathy +in, her happiness.</p> + +<p>Lillie was summoned home by urgent messages from +her husband, calling her back to take her share in wedding +festivities.</p> + +<p>She left willingly; for the fact is that her last conversation +with her cousin Harry had made the situation +as uncomfortable to her as if he had unceremoniously +deluged her with a pailful of cold water.</p> + +<p>There is a chilly, disagreeable kind of article, called +common sense, which is of all things most repulsive +and antipathetical to all petted creatures whose life has +consisted in flattery. It is the kind of talk which sisters +are very apt to hear from brothers, and daughters from +fathers and mothers, when fathers and mothers do their +duty by them; which sets the world before them as it +is, and not as it is painted by flatterers. Those women +who prefer the society of gentlemen, and who have the +faculty of bewitching their senses, never are in the way +of hearing from this cold matter-of-fact region; for them +it really does not exist. Every phrase that meets their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +ear is polished and softened, guarded and delicately +turned, till there is not a particle of homely truth left +in it. They pass their time in a world of illusions; +they demand these illusions of all who approach them, +as the sole condition of peace and favor. All gentlemen, +by a sort of instinct, recognize the woman who lives by +flattery, and give her her portion of meat in due season; +and thus some poor women are hopelessly buried, as +suicides used to be in Scotland, under a mountain of +rubbish, to which each passer-by adds one stone. It is +only by some extraordinary power of circumstances +that a man can be found to invade the sovereignty of +a pretty woman with any disagreeable tidings; or, as +Junius says, “to instruct the throne in the language of +truth.” Harry was brought up to this point only by +such a concurrence of circumstances. He was in love +with another woman,—a ready cause for disenchantment. +He was in some sort a family connection; and +he saw Lillie’s conduct at last, therefore, through the +plain, unvarnished medium of common sense. Moreover, +he felt a little pinched in his own conscience by +the view which Rose seemed to take of his part in the +matter, and, manlike, was strengthened in doing his +duty by being a little galled and annoyed at the woman +whose charms had tempted him into this dilemma. So +he talked to Lillie like a brother; or, in other words, +made himself disagreeably explicit,—showed her her +sins, and told her her duties as a married woman. The +charming fair ones who sentimentally desire gentlemen +to regard them as sisters do not bargain for any of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +sort of brotherly plainness; and yet they might do it +with great advantage. A brother, who is not a brother, +stationed near the ear of a fair friend, is commonly +very careful not to compromise his position by telling +unpleasant truths; but, on the present occasion, Harry +made a literal use of the brevet of brotherhood which +Lillie had bestowed on him, and talked to her as the +generality of <i>real</i> brothers talk to their sisters, using +great plainness of speech. He withered all her poor +little trumpery array of hothouse flowers of sentiment, +by treating them as so much garbage, as all men know +they are. He set before her the gravity and dignity of +marriage, and her duties to her husband. Last, and +most unkind of all, he professed his admiration of Rose +Ferguson, his unworthiness of her, and his determination +to win her by a nobler and better life; and then +showed himself to be a stupid blunderer by exhorting +Lillie to make Rose her model, and seek to imitate her +virtues.</p> + +<p>Poor Lillie! the world looked dismal and dreary +enough to her. She shrunk within herself. Every +thing was withered and disenchanted. All her poor +little stock of romance seemed to her as disgusting as +the withered flowers and crumpled finery and half-melted +ice-cream the morning after a ball.</p> + +<p>In this state, when she got a warm, true letter from +John, who always grew tender and affectionate when +she was long away, couched in those terms of admiration +and affection that were soothing to her ear, she +really longed to go back to him. She shrunk from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +dreary plainness of truth, and longed for flattery and +petting and caresses once more; and she wrote to John +an overflowingly tender letter, full of longings, which +brought him at once to her side, the most delighted of +men. When Lillie cried in his arms, and told him +that she found New York perfectly hateful; when she +declaimed on the heartlessness of fashionable life, and +longed to go with him to their quiet home,—she was +tolerably in earnest; and John was perfectly enchanted.</p> + +<p>Poor John! Was he a muff, a spoon? We think +not. We understand well that there is not a <i>woman</i> +among our readers who has the slightest patience with +Lillie, and that the most of them are half out of patience +with John for his enduring tenderness towards her.</p> + +<p>But men were born and organized by nature to be +the protectors of women; and, generally speaking, the +stronger and more thoroughly manly a man is, the more +he has of what phrenologists call the “pet organ,”—the +disposition which makes him the charmed servant of +what is weak and dependent. John had a great share +of this quality. He was made to be a protector. He +loved to protect; he loved every thing that was helpless +and weak,—young animals, young children, and +delicate women.</p> + +<p>He was a romantic adorer of womanhood, as a sort +of divine mystery,—a never-ending poem; and when +his wife was long enough away from him to give scope +for imagination to work, when she no longer annoyed +him with the friction of the sharp little edges of her +cold and selfish nature, he was able to see her once more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +in the ideal light of first love. After all, she was his +wife; and in that one word, to a good man, is every +thing holy and sacred. He longed to believe in her and +trust her wholly; and now that Grace was going from +him, to belong to another, Lillie was more than ever his +dependence.</p> + +<p>On the whole, if we must admit that John was weak, +he was weak where strong and noble natures may most +gracefully be so,—weak through disinterestedness, +faith, and the disposition to make the best of the wife +he had chosen.</p> + +<p>And so Lillie came home; and there was festivity +and rejoicing. Grace found herself floated into matrimony +on a tide bringing gifts and tokens of remembrance +from everybody that had ever known her; for +all were delighted with this opportunity of testifying a +sense of her worth, and every hand was ready to help +ring her wedding bells.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> + +<small><i>MOTHERHOOD.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IT is supposed by some that to become a mother +is of itself a healing and saving dispensation; that +of course the reign of selfishness ends, and the reign +of better things begins, with the commencement of +maternity.</p> + +<p>But old things do not pass away and all things +become new by any such rapid process of conversion. +A whole life spent in self-seeking and self-pleasing is no +preparation for the most august and austere of woman’s +sufferings and duties; and it is not to be wondered +at if the untrained, untaught, and self-indulgent shrink +from this ordeal, as Lillie did.</p> + +<p>The next spring, while the gables of the new cottage +on Elm Street were looking picturesquely through the +blossoming cherry-trees, and the smoke was curling +up from the chimneys where Grace and her husband +were cosily settled down together, there came to John’s +house another little Lillie.</p> + +<p>The little creature came in terror and trembling. +For the mother had trifled fearfully with the great laws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +of her being before its birth; and the very shadow +of death hung over her at the time the little new +life began.</p> + +<p>Lillie’s mother, now a widow, was sent for, and by +this event installed as a fixture in her daughter’s dwelling; +and for weeks the sympathies of all the neighborhood +were concentrated upon the sufferer. Flowers +and fruits were left daily at the door. Every one +was forward in offering those kindly attentions which +spring up so gracefully in rural neighborhoods. Everybody +was interested for her. She was little and pretty +and suffering; and people even forgot to blame her for +the levities that had made her present trial more +severe. As to John, he watched over her day and +night with anxious assiduity, forgetting every fault and +foible. She was now more than the wife of his youth; +she was the mother of his child, enthroned and glorified +in his eyes by the wonderful and mysterious experiences +which had given this new little treasure to their +dwelling.</p> + +<p>To say the truth, Lillie was too sick and suffering for +sentiment. It requires a certain amount of bodily +strength and soundness to feel emotions of love; and, +for a long time, the little Lillie had to be banished from +the mother’s apartment, as she lay weary in her darkened +room, with only a consciousness of a varied succession +of disagreeables and discomforts. Her general +impression about herself was, that she was a much +abused and most unfortunate woman; and that all that +could ever be done by the utmost devotion of everybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +in the house was insufficient to make up for such +trials as had come upon her.</p> + +<p>A nursing mother was found for the little Lillie +in the person of a goodly Irish woman, fair, fat, and +loving; and the real mother had none of those awakening +influences, from the resting of the little head in her +bosom, and the pressure of the little helpless fingers, +which magnetize into existence the blessed power of +love.</p> + +<p>She had wasted in years of fashionable folly, and +in a life led only for excitement and self-gratification, +all the womanly power, all the capability of motherly +giving and motherly loving that are the glory of +womanhood. Kathleen, the white-armed, the gentle-bosomed, +had all the simple pleasures, the tendernesses, +the poetry of motherhood; while poor, faded, fretful +Lillie had all the prose—the sad, hard, weary prose—of +sickness and pain, unglorified by love.</p> + +<p>John did not well know what to do with himself +in Lillie’s darkened room; where it seemed to him +he was always in the way, always doing something +wrong; where his feet always seemed too large and +heavy, and his voice too loud; and where he was sure, +in his anxious desire to be still and gentle, to upset +something, or bring about some general catastrophe, +and to go out feeling more like a criminal than ever.</p> + +<p>The mother and the nurse, stationed there like a pair +of chief mourners, spoke in tones which experienced +feminine experts seem to keep for occasions like these, +and which, as Hawthorne has said, give an effect as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +if the voice had been dyed black. It was a comfort +and relief to pass from the funeral gloom to the little +pink-ruffled chamber among the cherry-trees, where the +birds were singing and the summer breezes blowing, +and the pretty Kathleen was crooning her Irish songs, +and invoking the holy virgin and all the saints to +bless the “darlin’” baby.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;"> +<img src="images/i300.jpg" width="383" height="371" alt="Young woman seated holding baby, man kneeling before them" /> +<div class="caption">“An’ it’s a blessin’ they brings wid ’em, sir.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“An’ it’s a blessin’ they brings wid ’em to a house, +sir; the angels comes down wid ’em. We can’t see +’em, sir; but, bless the darlin’, she can. And she smiles +in her sleep when she sees ’em.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rose and Grace came often to this bower with kisses +and gifts and offerings, like a pair of nice fairy godmothers. +They hung over the pretty little waxen +miracle as she opened her great blue eyes with a silent, +mysterious wonder; but, alas! all these delicious moments, +this artless love of the new baby life, was not +for the mother. She was not strong enough to enjoy +it. Its cries made her nervous; and so she kept the +uncheered solitude of her room without the blessing +of the little angel.</p> + +<p>People may mourn in lugubrious phrase about the +Irish blood in our country. For our own part, we +think the rich, tender, motherly nature of the Irish +girl an element a thousand times more hopeful in +our population than the faded, washed-out indifferentism +of fashionable women, who have danced and flirted +away all their womanly attributes, till there is neither +warmth nor richness nor maternal fulness left in them,—mere +paper-dolls, without milk in their bosoms or blood +in their veins. Give us rich, tender, warm-hearted +Bridgets and Kathleens, whose instincts teach them the +real poetry of motherhood; who can love unto death, +and bear trials and pains cheerfully for the joy that +is set before them. We are not afraid for the republican +citizens that such mothers will bear to us. They +are the ones that will come to high places in our +land, and that will possess the earth by right of the +strongest.</p> + +<p>Motherhood, to the woman who has lived only to be +petted, and to be herself the centre of all things, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +a virtual dethronement. Something weaker, fairer, +more delicate than herself comes,—something for her +to serve and to care for more than herself.</p> + +<p>It would sometimes seem as if motherhood were +a lovely artifice of the great Father, to wean the heart +from selfishness by a peaceful and gradual process. +The babe is self in another form. It is so interwoven +and identified with the mother’s life, that she passes +by almost insensible gradations from herself to it; and +day by day the distinctive love of self wanes as the +child-love waxes, filling the heart with a thousand +new springs of tenderness.</p> + +<p>But that this benignant transformation of nature +may be perfected, it must be wrought out in Nature’s +own way. Any artificial arrangement that takes the +child away from the mother interrupts that wonderful +system of contrivances whereby the mother’s nature +and being shade off into that of the child, and her +heart enlarges to a new and heavenly power of loving.</p> + +<p>When Lillie was sufficiently recovered to be fond +of any thing, she found in her lovely baby only a new +toy,—a source of pride and pleasure, and a charming +occasion for the display of new devices of millinery. +But she found Newport indispensable that summer +to the re-establishment of her strength. “And really,” +she said, “the baby would be so much better off quietly +at home with mamma and Kathleen. The fact is,” she +said, “she quite disregards me. She cries after Kathleen +if I take her; so that it’s quite provoking.”</p> + +<p>And so Lillie, free and unencumbered, had her gay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +season at Newport with the Follingsbees, and the +Simpkinses, and the Tompkinses, and all the rest of +the nice people, who have nothing to do but enjoy +themselves; and everybody flattered her by being +incredulous that one so young and charming could +possibly be a mother.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.<br /> + +<small><i>CHECKMATE.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IF ever our readers have observed two chess-players, +both ardent, skilful, determined, who have been +carrying on noiselessly the moves of a game, they will +understand the full significance of this decisive term.</p> + +<p>Up to this point, there is hope, there is energy, there +is enthusiasm; the pieces are marshalled and managed +with good courage. At last, perhaps in an unexpected +moment, one, two, three adverse moves follow each +other, and the decisive words, <i>check-mate</i>, are uttered.</p> + +<p>This is a symbol of what often goes on in the game +of life.</p> + +<p>Here is a man going on, indefinitely, conscious in his +own heart that he is not happy in his domestic relations. +There is a want of union between him and his +wife. She is not the woman that meets his wants or +his desires; and in the intercourse of life they constantly +cross and annoy each other. But still he does +not allow himself to look the matter fully in the face. +He goes on and on, hoping that to-morrow will bring +something better than to-day,—hoping that this thing, +or that thing or the other thing will bring a change,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +and that in some indefinite future all will round and +fashion itself to his desires. It is very slowly that a +man awakens from the illusions of his first love. It is +very unwillingly that he ever comes to the final conclusion +that he has made <i>there</i> the mistake of a whole lifetime, +and that the woman to whom he gave his whole +heart not only is not the woman that he supposed her +to be, but never in any future time, nor by any change +of circumstances, will become that woman,—that the +difficulty is radical and final and hopeless.</p> + +<p>In “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” we read that the poor +man, Christian, tried to persuade his wife to go with +him on the pilgrimage to the celestial city; but that +finally he had to make up his mind to go alone without +her. Such is the lot of the man who is brought to the +conclusion, positively and definitely, that his wife is +always to be a hinderance, and never a help to him, in +any upward aspiration; that whatever he does that is +needful and right and true must be done, not by her +influence, but in spite of it; that, if he has to swim +against the hard, upward current of the river of life, he +must do so with her hanging on his arm, and holding +him back, and that he cannot influence and cannot +control her.</p> + +<p>Such hours of disclosure to a man are among the terrible +hidden tragedies of life,—tragedies such as are +never acted on the stage. Such a time of disclosure +came to John the year after Grace’s marriage; and it +came in this way:—</p> + +<p>The Spindlewood property had long been critically<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +situated. Sundry financial changes which were going +on in the country had depreciated its profits, and affected +it unfavorably. All now depended upon the +permanency of one commercial house. John had been +passing through an interval of great anxiety. He could +not tell Lillie his trouble. He had been for months +past nervously watching all the in-comings and out-goings +of his family, arranged on a scale of reckless +expenditure, which he felt entirely powerless to control. +Lillie’s wishes were importunate. She was nervous +and hysterical, wholly incapable of listening to reason; +and the least attempt to bring her to change any of her +arrangements, or to restrict any of her pleasures, brought +tears and faintings and distresses and scenes of domestic +confusion which he shrank from. He often tried to +set before her the possibility that they might be obliged, +for a time at least, to live in a different manner; but +she always resisted every such supposition as so frightful, +so dreadful, that he was utterly discouraged, and +put off and off, hoping that the evil day never might +arrive.</p> + +<p>But it did come at last. One morning, when he received +by mail the tidings of the failure of the great +house of Clapham & Co., he knew that the time had +come when the thing could no longer be staved off. +He was an indorser to a large amount on the paper of +this house; and the crisis was inevitable.</p> + +<p>It was inevitable also that he must acquaint Lillie +with the state of his circumstances; for she was going +on with large arrangements and calculations for a Newport<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +campaign, and sending the usual orders to New +York, to her milliner and dressmaker, for her summer +outfit. It was a cruel thing for him to be obliged to +interrupt all this; for she seemed perfectly cheerful and +happy in it, as she always was when preparing to go on +a pleasure-seeking expedition. But it could not be. +All this luxury and indulgence must be cut off at a +stroke. He must tell her that she could not go to Newport; +that there was no money for new dresses or new +finery; that they should probably be obliged to move +out of their elegant house, and take a smaller one, and +practise for some time a rigid economy.</p> + +<p>John came into Lillie’s elegant apartments, which +glittered like a tulip-bed with many colored sashes and +ribbons, with sheeny silks and misty laces, laid out in +order to be surveyed before packing.</p> + +<p>“Gracious me, John! what on earth is the matter +with you to-day? How perfectly awful and solemn +you do look!”</p> + +<p>“I have had bad news, this morning, Lillie, which I +must tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear me, John! what is the matter? Nobody +is dead, I hope!”</p> + +<p>“No, Lillie; but I am afraid you will have to give +up your Newport journey.”</p> + +<p>“Gracious, goodness, John! what for?”</p> + +<p>“To say the truth, Lillie, I cannot afford it.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t afford it? Why not? Why, John, what is +the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie, just read this letter!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lillie took it, and read it with her hands trembling.</p> + +<p>“Well, dear me, John! I don’t see any thing in this +letter. If they have failed, I don’t see what that is to +you!”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, I am indorser for them.”</p> + +<p>“How very silly of you, John! What made you +indorse for them? Now that is too bad; it just makes +me perfectly miserable to think of such things. I know +<i>I</i> should not have done so; but I don’t see why you +need pay it. It is their business, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lillie, I shall have to pay it. It is a matter +of honor and honesty to do it; because I engaged to +do it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t see why that should be! It isn’t +your debt; it is their debt: and why need you do it? +I am sure Dick Follingsbee said that there were ways +in which people could put their property out of their +hands when they got caught in such scrapes as this. +Dick knows just how to manage. He told me of plenty +of people that had done that, who were living splendidly, +and who were received everywhere; and people thought +just as much of them.”</p> + +<p>“O Lillie, Lillie! my child,” said John; “you don’t +know any thing of what you are talking about! That +would be dishonorable, and wholly out of the question. +No, Lillie dear, the fact is,” he said, with a great gulp, +and a deep sigh,—“the fact is, I have failed; but I am +going to fail honestly. If I have nothing else left, I +will have my honor and my conscience. But we shall +have to give up this house, and move into a smaller one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +Every thing will have to be given up to the creditors to +settle the business. And then, when all is arranged, we +must try to live economically some way; and perhaps +we can make it up again. But you see, dear, there can +be no more of this kind of expenses at present,” he said, +pointing to the dresses and jewelry on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Well, John, I am sure I had rather die!” said Lillie, +gathering herself into a little white heap, and tumbling +into the middle of the bed. “I am sure if we have got +to rub and scrub and starve so, I had rather die and +done with it; and I hope I shall.”</p> + +<p>John crossed his arms, and looked gloomily out of +the window.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you had better,” he said. “I am sure I +should be glad to.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I dare say!” said Lillie; “that is all you care +for me. Now there is Dick Follingsbee, he would be +taking care of his wife. Why, he has failed three or four +times, and always come out richer than he was before!”</p> + +<p>“He is a swindler and a rascal!” said John; “that is +what he is.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if he is,” said Lillie, sobbing. “His +wife has good times, and goes into the very first society +in New York. People don’t care, so long as you are +rich, what you do. Well, I am sure I can’t do any +thing about it. I don’t know how to live without money,—that’s +a fact! and I can’t learn. I suppose you +would be glad to see me rubbing around in old calico +dresses, wouldn’t you? and keeping only one girl, and +going into the kitchen, like Miss Dotty Peabody? I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +think I see myself! And all just for one of your Quixotic +notions, when you might just as well keep all your +money as not. That is what it is to marry a reformer! +I never have had any peace of my life on account of +your conscience, always something or other turning up +that you can’t act like anybody else. I should think, +at least, you might have contrived to settle this place +on me and poor little Lillie, that we might have a house +to put our heads in.”</p> + +<p>“Lillie, Lillie,” said John, “this is too much! Don’t +you think that <i>I</i> suffer at all?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see that you do,” said Lillie, sobbing. “I +dare say you are glad of it; it is just like you. Oh, +dear, I wish I had never been married!”</p> + +<p>“I <i>certainly</i> do,” said John, fervently.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so. You see, it is nothing to you men; +you don’t care any thing about these things. If you +can get a musty old corner and your books, you are +perfectly satisfied; and you don’t know when things +are pretty, and when they are not: and so you can talk +grand about your honor and your conscience and all +that. I suppose the carriages and horses have got to +be sold too?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Lillie,” said John, hardening his heart and +his tone.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” she said, “I wish you would go now +and send ma to me. I don’t want to talk about it any +more. My head aches as if it would split. Poor ma! +She little thought when I married you that it was going +to come to this.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> + +<p>John walked out of the room gloomily enough. He +had received this morning his <i>check-mate</i>. All illusion +was at an end. The woman that he had loved and idolized +and caressed and petted and indulged, in whom +he had been daily and hourly disappointed since he was +married, but of whom he still hoped and hoped, he now +felt was of a nature not only unlike, but opposed to his +own. He felt that he could neither love nor respect her +further. And yet she was his wife, and the mother of +his daughter, and the only queen of his household; and +he had solemnly promised at God’s altar that “forsaking +all others, he would keep only unto her, so long as they +both should live, for better, for worse,” John muttered +to himself,—“for better, for worse. This is the worse; +and oh, it is dreadful!”</p> + +<p>In all John’s hours of sorrow and trouble, the instinctive +feeling of his heart was to go back to the memory +of his mother; and the nearest to his mother was his +sister Grace. In this hour of his blind sorrow, he walked +directly over to the little cottage on Elm Street, which +Grace and her husband had made a perfectly ideal home.</p> + +<p>When he came into the parlor, Grace and Rose were +sitting together with an open letter lying between them. +It was evident that some crisis of tender confidence had +passed between them; for the tears were hardly dry on +Rose’s cheeks. Yet it was not painful, whatever it was; +for her face was radiant with smiles, and John thought +he had never seen her look so lovely. At this moment +the truth of her beautiful and lovely womanhood, her +sweetness and nobleness of nature, came over him, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +bitter contrast with the scene he had just passed through, +and the woman he had left.</p> + +<p>“What do you think, John?” said Grace; “we have +some congratulations here to give! Rose is engaged to +Harry Endicott.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” said John, “I wish her joy.”</p> + +<p>“But what is the matter, John?” said both women, +looking up, and seeing something unusual in his face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, trouble!” said John,—“trouble upon us all. +Gracie and Rose, the Spindlewood Mills have failed.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible?” was the exclamation of both.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed!” said John; “you see, the thing has +been running very close for the last six months; and +the manufacturing business has been looking darker and +darker. But still we could have stood it if the house +of Clapham & Co. had stood; but they have gone to +smash, Gracie. I had a letter this morning, telling me +of it.”</p> + +<p>Both women stood a moment as if aghast; for the +Ferguson property was equally involved.</p> + +<p>“Poor papa!” said Rose; “this will come hard on +him.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said John, bitterly. “It is more for +others that I feel than for myself,—for all that are +involved must suffer with me.”</p> + +<p>“But, after all, John dear,” said Rose, “don’t feel so +about us at any rate. We shall do very well. People +that fail honorably always come right side up at last; +and, John, how good it is to think, whatever you lose, +you cannot lose your best treasure,—your true noble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +heart, and your true friends. I feel this minute that +we shall all know each other better, and be more precious +to each other for this very trouble.”</p> + +<p>John looked at her through his tears.</p> + +<p>“Dear Rose,” he said, “you are an angel; and from +my soul I congratulate the man that has got <i>you</i>. He +that has you would be rich, if he lost the whole +world.”</p> + +<p>“You are too good to me, all of you,” said Rose. +“But now, John, about that bad news—let me break +it to papa and mamma; I think I can do it best. I +know when they feel brightest in the day; and I don’t +want it to come on them suddenly: but I can put it in +the very best way. How fortunate that I am just +engaged to Harry! Harry is a perfect prince in generosity. +You don’t know what a good heart he has; and +it happens so fortunately that we have him to lean on +just now. Oh, I’m sure we shall find a way out of these +troubles, never fear.” And Rose took the letter, and +left John and Grace together.</p> + +<p>“O Gracie, Gracie!” said John, throwing himself +down on the old chintz sofa, and burying his face in his +hands, “what a woman there is! O Gracie! I wish I +was dead! Life is played out with me. I haven’t the +least desire to live. I can’t get a step farther.”</p> + +<p>“O John, John! don’t talk so!” said Grace, stooping +over him. “Why, you will recover from this! You are +young and strong. It will be settled; and you can +work your way up again.”</p> + +<p>“It is not the money, Grace; I could let that go. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +is that I have nothing to live for,—nobody and nothing. +My wife, Gracie! she is worse than nothing,—worse, +oh! infinitely worse than nothing! She is a +chain and a shackle. She is my obstacle. She tortures +me and hinders me every way and everywhere. There +will never be a home for me where she is; and, because +she is there, no other woman can make a home for me. +Oh, I wish she would go away, and stay away! I +would not care if I never saw her face again.”</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 317px;"> +<img src="images/i314.jpg" width="317" height="380" alt="woman comforting man" /> +<div class="caption">“O Gracie! I wish I was dead!”</div> +</div> + +<p>There was something shocking and terrible to Grace +about this outpouring. It was dreadful to her to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +the recipient of such a confidence, to hear these words +spoken, and to more than suspect their truth. She was +quite silent for a few moments, as he still lay with his +face down, buried in the sofa-pillow.</p> + +<p>Then she went to her writing-desk, took out a little +ivory miniature of their mother, came and sat down by +him, and laid her hand on his head.</p> + +<p>“John,” she said, “look at this.”</p> + +<p>He raised his head, took it from her hand, and looked +at it. Soon she saw the tears dropping over it.</p> + +<p>“John,” she said, “let me say to you now what I +think our mother would have said. The great object +of life is not happiness; and, when we have lost our +own personal happiness, we have not lost all that life is +worth living for. No, John, the very best of life often +lies beyond that. When we have learned to let ourselves +go, then we may find that there is a better, a +nobler, and a truer life for us.”</p> + +<p>“I <i>have</i> given up,” said John in a husky voice. “I +have lost <i>all</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Grace, steadily, “I know perfectly +well that there is very little hope of personal and individual +happiness for you in your marriage for years to +come. Instead of a companion, a friend, and a helper, +you have a moral invalid to take care of. But, John, +if Lillie had been stricken with blindness, or insanity, +or paralysis, you would not have shrunk from your duty +to her; and, because the blindness and paralysis are +moral, you will not shrink from it, will you? You +sacrifice all your property to pay an indorsement for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +debt that is not yours; and why do you do it? Because +society rests on every man’s faithfulness to his engagements. +John, if you stand by a business engagement +with this faithfulness, how much more should you stand +by that great engagement which concerns all other +families and the stability of all society. Lillie is your +wife. You were free to choose; and you chose her. +She is the mother of your child; and, John, what that +daughter is to be depends very much on the steadiness +with which you fulfil your duties to the mother. I +know that Lillie is a most undeveloped and uncongenial +person; I know how little you have in common: but +your duties are the same as if she were the best and +the most congenial of wives. It is every man’s duty to +make the best of his marriage.”</p> + +<p>“But, Gracie,” said John, “is there any thing to be +made of her?”</p> + +<p>“You will never make me believe, John, that there +are any human beings absolutely without the capability +of good. They may be very dark, and very slow to +learn, and very far from it; but steady patience and +love and well-doing will at last tell upon any one.”</p> + +<p>“But, Gracie, if you could have heard how utterly +without principle she is: urging me to put my property +out of my hands dishonestly, to keep her in luxury!”</p> + +<p>“Well, John, you must have patience with her. Consider +that she has been unfortunate in her associates. +Consider that she has been a petted child all her life, +and that you have helped to pet her. Consider how +much your sex always do to weaken the moral sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +of women, by liking and admiring them for being weak +and foolish and inconsequent, so long as it is pretty +and does not come in your way. I do not mean you in +particular, John; but I mean that the general course of +society releases pretty women from any sense of obligation +to be constant in duty, or brave in meeting emergencies. +You yourself have encouraged Lillie to live +very much like a little humming-bird.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I thought,” said John, “that she would in +time develop into something better.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there lies your mistake; you expected too +much. The work of years is not to be undone in a +moment; and you must take into account that this is +Lillie’s first adversity. You may as well make up your +mind not to expect her to be reasonable. It seems to +me that we can make up our minds to bear any thing +that we know must come; and you may as well make +up yours, that, for a long time, you will have to carry +Lillie as a burden. But then, you must think that she +is your daughter’s mother, and that it is very important +for the child that she should respect and honor her +mother. You must treat her with respect and honor, +even in her weaknesses. We all must. We all must +help Lillie as we can to bear this trial, and sympathize +with her in it, unreasonable as she may seem; because, +after all, John, it is a real trial to her.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot see, for my part,” said John, “that she +loves any thing.”</p> + +<p>“The power of loving may be undeveloped in her, +John; but it will come, perhaps, later in life. At all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +events take this comfort to yourself,—that, when you +are doing your duty by your wife, when you are holding +her in her place in the family, and teaching her child to +respect and honor her, you are putting her in God’s +school of love. If we contend with and fly from our +duties, simply because they gall us and burden us, we +go against every thing; but if we take them up bravely, +then every thing goes with us. God and good angels +and good men and all good influences are working with +us when we are working for the right. And in this +way, John, you may come to happiness; or, if you do +not come to personal happiness, you may come to something +higher and better. You know that you think it +nobler to be an honest man than a rich man; and I +am sure that you will think it better to be a good man +than to be a happy one. Now, dear John, it is not I +that say these things, I think; but it seems to me it +is what our mother would say, if she should speak +to you from where she is. And then, dear brother, +it will all be over soon, this life-battle; and the only +thing is, to come out victorious.”</p> + +<p>“Gracie, you are right,” said John, rising up: “I +see it myself. I will brace up to my duty. Couldn’t +you try and pacify Lillie a little, poor girl? I suppose +I have been rough with her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, John, I will go up and talk with Lillie, +and condole with her; and perhaps we shall bring her +round. And then when my husband comes home next +week, we’ll have a family palaver, and he will find some +ways and means of setting this business straight, that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +won’t be so bad as it looks now. There may be arrangements +made when the creditors come together. My +impression is that, whenever people find a man really +determined to arrange a matter of this kind honorably, +they are all disposed to help him; so don’t be cast +down about the business. As for Lillie’s discontent, +treat it as you would the crying of your little daughter +for its sugar-plums, and do not expect any thing more +of her just now than there is.”</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>We have brought our story up to this point. We +informed our readers in the beginning that it was not a +novel, but a story with a moral; and, as people pick all +sorts of strange morals out of stories, we intend to put +conspicuously into our story exactly what the moral of +it is.</p> + +<p>Well, then, it has been very surprising to us to see +in these our times that some people, who really at heart +have the interest of women upon their minds, have +been so short-sighted and reckless as to clamor for an +easy dissolution of the marriage-contract, as a means of +righting their wrongs. Is it possible that they do not +see that this is a liberty which, once granted, would +always tell against the weaker sex? If the woman +who finds that she has made a mistake, and married a +man unkind or uncongenial, may, on the discovery of +it, leave him and seek her fortune with another, so also +may a man. And what will become of women like +Lillie, when the first gilding begins to wear off, if the +man who has taken one of them shall be at liberty to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +cast her off and seek another? Have we not enough now +of miserable, broken-winged butterflies, that sink down, +down, down into the mud of the street? But are women-reformers +going to clamor for having every woman +turned out helpless, when the man who has married +her, and made her a mother, discovers that she has not +the power to interest him, and to help his higher +spiritual development? It was because woman is helpless +and weak, and because Christ was her great Protector, +that he made the law of marriage irrevocable. +“Whosoever putteth away his wife causeth her to commit +adultery.” If the sacredness of the marriage-contract +did not hold, if the Church and all good men and +all good women did not uphold it with their might and +main, it is easy to see where the career of many women +like Lillie would end. Men have the power to reflect +before the choice is made; and that is the only proper +time for reflection. But, when once marriage is made +and consummated, it should be as fixed a fact as the +laws of nature. And they who suffer under its stringency +should suffer as those who endure for the public +good. “He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth +not, he shall enter into the tabernacle of the +Lord.”</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /> + +<small><i>AFTER THE STORM.</i></small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE painful and unfortunate crises of life often arise +and darken like a thunder-storm, and seem for the +moment perfectly terrific and overwhelming; but wait +a little, and the cloud sweeps by, and the earth, which +seemed about to be torn to pieces and destroyed, comes +out as good as new. Not a bird is dead; not a flower +killed: and the sun shines just as he did before. So it +was with John’s financial trouble. When it came to be +investigated and looked into, it proved much less terrible +than had been feared. It was not utter ruin. The +high character which John bore for honor and probity, +the general respect which was felt for him by all to whom +he stood indebted, led to an arrangement by which the +whole business was put into his hands, and time given +him to work it through. His brother-in-law came to +his aid, advancing money, and entering into the business +with him. Our friend Harry Endicott was only too +happy to prove his devotion to Rose by offers of financial +assistance.</p> + +<p>In short, there seemed every reason to hope that, +after a period of somewhat close sailing, the property<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +might be brought into clear water again, and go on even +better than before.</p> + +<p>To say the truth, too, John was really relieved by that +terrible burst of confidence in his sister. It is a curious +fact, that giving full expression to bitterness of feeling +or indignation against one we love seems to be such a +relief, that it always brings a revulsion of kindliness. +John never loved his sister so much as when he heard +her plead his wife’s cause with him; for, though in some +bitter, impatient hour a man may feel, which John did, +as if he would be glad to sunder all ties, and tear +himself away from an uncongenial wife, yet a good man +never can forget the woman that once he loved, and +who is the mother of his children. Those sweet, sacred +visions and illusions of first love will return again and +again, even after disenchantment; and the better and +the purer the man is, the more sacred is the appeal to +him of woman’s weakness. Because he is strong, and +she is weak, he feels that it would be unmanly to desert +her; and, if there ever was any thing for which John +thanked his sister, it was when she went over and spent +hours with his wife, patiently listening to her complainings, +and soothing her as if she had been a petted child. +All the circle of friends, in a like manner, bore with her +for his sake.</p> + +<p>Thanks to the intervention of Grace’s husband and of +Harry, John was not put to the trial and humiliation +of being obliged to sell the family place, although constrained +to live in it under a system of more rigid economy. +Lillie’s mother, although quite a commonplace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +woman as a companion, had been an economist in her +day; she had known how to make the most of straitened +circumstances, and, being put to it, could do it +again.</p> + +<p>To be sure, there was an end of Newport gayeties; +for Lillie vowed and declared that she would not go to +Newport and take cheap board, and live without a +carriage. She didn’t want the Follingsbees and the +Tompkinses and the Simpkinses talking about her, and +saying that they had failed. Her mother worked like a +servant for her in smartening her up, and tidying her +old dresses, of which one would think that she had a +stock to last for many years. And thus, with everybody +sympathizing with her, and everybody helping +her, Lillie subsided into enacting the part of a patient, +persecuted saint. She was touchingly resigned, and +wore an air of pleasing melancholy. John had asked +her pardon for all the hasty words he said to her in the +terrible interview; and she had forgiven him with +edifying meekness. “Of course,” she remarked to her +mother, “she knew he would be sorry for the way he +had spoken to her; and she was very glad that he had +the grace to confess it.”</p> + +<p>So life went on and on with John. He never forgot +his sister’s words, but received them into his heart as a +message from his mother in heaven. From that time, +no one could have judged by any word, look, or action +of his that his wife was not what she had always been +to him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Rose was happily married, and settled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +down in the Ferguson place; where her husband and +she formed one family with her parents. It was a +pleasant, cosey, social, friendly neighborhood. After +all, John found that his cross was not so very heavy to +carry, when once he had made up his mind that it must +be borne. By never expecting much, he was never +disappointed. Having made up his mind that he was +to serve and to give without receiving, he did it, and +began to find pleasure in it. By and by, the little +Lillie, growing up by her mother’s side, began to be a +compensation for all he had suffered. The little creature +inherited her mother’s beauty, the dazzling delicacy +of her complexion, the abundance of her golden hair; +but there had been given to her also her father’s +magnanimous and generous nature. Lillie was a selfish, +exacting mother; and such women often succeed in +teaching to their children patience and self-denial. As +soon as the little creature could walk, she was her +father’s constant play-fellow and companion. He took +her with him everywhere. He was never weary of +talking with her and playing with her; and gradually +he relieved the mother of all care of her early training. +When, in time, two others were added to the nursery +troop, Lillie became a perfect model of a gracious, +motherly, little older sister.</p> + +<p>Did all this patience and devotion of the husband at +last awaken any thing like love in the wife? Lillie was +not naturally rich in emotion. Under the best education +and development, she would have been rather wanting +in the loving power; and the whole course of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +education had been directed to suppress what little she +had, and to concentrate all her feelings upon herself.</p> + +<p>The factitious and unnatural life she had lived so +many years had seriously undermined the stamina of +her constitution; and, after the birth of her third child, +her health failed altogether. Lillie thus became in +time a chronic invalid, exacting, querulous, full of +troubles and wants which tasked the patience of all +around her. During all these trying years, her husband’s +faithfulness never faltered. As he gradually +retrieved his circumstances, she was first in every calculation. +Because he knew that here lay his greatest +temptation, here he most rigidly performed his duty. +Nothing that money could give to soften the weariness +of sickness was withheld; and John was for hours and +hours, whenever he could spare the time, himself a +personal, assiduous, unwearied attendant in the sick-room.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> + +<i><small>THE NEW LILLIE.</small></i></h2> + +<div> +<img class="splittop" src="images/i326a.jpg" alt="vine and sleeping woman" width="328" height="105" /> +<img src="images/i326b.jpg" alt="vine and sleeping woman" width="200" height="266" class="split" /> +</div> + +<p class='drop-cap'>WE have but one scene +more before our +story closes. It is night +now in Lillie’s sick-room; +and her mother is anxiously +arranging the drapery, to +keep the fire-light from her +eyes, stepping noiselessly +about the room. She lies +there behind the curtains, +on her pillow,—the wreck +and remnant only of what +was once so beautiful. +During all these years, when the interests and pleasures +have been slowly dropping, leaf by leaf, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +passing away like fading flowers, Lillie has learned to +do much thinking. It sometimes seems to take a stab, +a thrust, a wound, to open in some hearts the capacity +of deep feeling and deep thought. There are things +taught by suffering that can be taught in no other way. +By suffering sometimes is wrought out in a person the +power of loving, and of appreciating love. During the +first year, Lillie had often seemed to herself in a sort of +wild, chaotic state. The coming in of a strange new +spiritual life was something so inexplicable to her that +it agitated and distressed her; and sometimes, when +she appeared more petulant and fretful than usual, it +was only the stir and vibration on her weak nerves of +new feelings, which she wanted the power to express. +These emotions at first were painful to her. She felt +weak, miserable, and good for nothing. It seemed to +her that her whole life had been a wretched cheat, and +that she had ill repaid the devotion of her husband. +At first these thoughts only made her bitter and angry; +and she contended against them. But, as she sank +from day to day, and grew weaker and weaker, she +grew more gentle; and a better spirit seemed to enter +into her.</p> + +<p>On this evening that we speak of, she had made up +her mind that she would try and tell her husband some +of the things that were passing in her mind.</p> + +<p>“Tell John I want to see him,” she said to her +mother. “I wish he would come and sit with me.”</p> + +<p>This was a summons for which John invariably left +every thing. He laid down his book as the word was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +brought to him, and soon was treading noiselessly at +her bedside.</p> + +<p>“Well, Lillie dear,” he said, “how are you?”</p> + +<p>She put out her little wasted hand; “John dear,” she +said, “sit down; I have something that I want to say +to you. I have been thinking, John, that this can’t last +much longer.”</p> + +<p>“What can’t last, Lillie?” said John, trying to speak +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“I mean, John, that I am going to leave you soon, +for good and all; and I should not think you would be +sorry either.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, come, my girl, it won’t do to talk so!” +said John, patting her hand. “You must not be +blue.”</p> + +<p>“And so, John,” said Lillie, going on without noticing +this interruption, “I wanted just to tell you, before +I got any weaker, that I know and feel just how patient +and noble and good you have always been to me.”</p> + +<p>“O Lillie darling!” said John, “why shouldn’t I +be? Poor little girl, how much you have suffered!”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, John, I know perfectly well that I +have never been the wife that I ought to be to you. +You know it too; so don’t try to say anything about +it. I was never the woman to have made you happy; +and it was not fair in me to marry you. I have lived +a dreadfully worldly, selfish life. And now, John, I am +come to the end. You dear good man, your trials with +me are almost over; but I want you to know that you +really have succeeded. John, I do love you now with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +all my heart, though I did not love you when I married +you. And, John, I do feel that God will take pity on +me, poor and good for nothing as I am, just because I +see how patient and kind you have always been to me +when I have been so very provoking. You see it has +made me think how good God must be,—because, +dear, we know that he is better than the best of us.”</p> + +<p>“O Lillie, Lillie!” said John, leaning over her, +and taking her in his arms, “do live, I want you to +live. Don’t leave me now, now that you really love +me!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, John! it is best as it is,—I think I should +not have strength to be <i>very</i> good, if I were to get +well; and you would still have your little cross to +carry. No, dear, it is all right. And, John, you will +have the best of me in our Lillie. She looks like me: +but, John, she has your good heart; and she will be +more to you than I could be. She is just as sweet and +unselfish as I <i>was</i> selfish. I don’t think I am quite so +bad now; and I think, if I lived, I should try to be a +great deal better.”</p> + +<p>“O Lillie! I cannot bear to part with you! I never +have ceased to love you; and I never have loved any +other woman.”</p> + +<p>“I know that, John. Oh! how much truer and +better you are than I have been! But I like to think +that you love me,—I like to think that you will be +sorry when I am gone, bad as I am, or <i>was;</i> for I insist +on it that I am a little better than I was. You remember +that story of Undine you read me one day? It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +seems as if most of my life I have been like Undine +before her soul came into her. But this last year I +have felt the coming in of a soul. It has troubled me; +it has come with a strange kind of pain. I have never +suffered so much. But it has done me good—it has +made me feel that I have an immortal soul, and that +you and I, John, shall meet in some better place hereafter.—And +there you will be rewarded for all your +goodness to me.”</p> + +<p>As John sat there, and held the little frail hand, his +thoughts went back to the time when the wild impulse +of his heart had been to break away from this woman, +and never see her face again; and he gave thanks to +God, who had led him in a better way.</p> + +<p class='center'> +<b><span class='spaced'>........</span></b><br /> +</p> + +<p>And so, at last, passed away the little story of +Lillie’s life. But in the home which she has left now +grows another Lillie, fairer and sweeter than she,—the +tender confidant, the trusted friend of her father. And +often, when he lays his hand on her golden head, he +says, “Dear child, how like your mother you look!”</p> + +<p>Of all that was painful in that experience, nothing +now remains. John thinks of her only as he thought +of her in the fair illusion of first love,—the dearest +and most sacred of all illusions.</p> + +<p>The Lillie who guides his household, and is so motherly +to the younger children; who shares every thought +of his heart; who enters into every feeling and sympathy,—she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +is the pure reward of his faithfulness and +constancy. She is a sacred and saintly Lillie, springing +out of the sod where he laid her mother, forgetting all +her faults for ever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 193px;"> +<img src="images/i331.jpg" width="193" height="213" alt="Cross with the word "Lillie" on it" /> +</div> + +<p class='copyright'><br /><br /><br />———————————————————————————————<br /> +Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class='tnote'><div class='center'><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></div> + +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>Page 47, “embroided” changed to “embroidered” (embroidered under-linen)</p> + +<p>Page 79, “wo ld” changed to “world” (do it for the world)</p> + +<p>Page 203, “spirt” changed to “spirit” (little spirit of gayety)</p> + +<p>Page 223, “Syndenham” changed to “Sydenham” (with which Walter Sydenham was) +</p></div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12354 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/12354-h/images/cover.jpg 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