 | CHAPTER VI. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
“What say'st thou? Wilt thou go along?”
Henry VI.
Jane Graham joined Elinor at Wyllys-Roof, after having
made her parting curtsey to Mrs. G—. Her parents
lived at Charleston; but as her constitution was delicate,
and required a more bracing air than that of Carolina, Jane
had been more than once, for a twelvemonth at a time, entirely
under Miss Wyllys's charge, and was seldom absent
from Longbridge for more than a few months together. It
was now settled that she was to remain with Elinor until
the autumn, when her parents, who were coming north for
a couple of months, were to carry her back to Charleston.
Miss Adeline Taylor, of course, found it impossible to remain
longer at school, when Jane, her bosom-friend, had left it.
She, too, returned to her family in the country, prepared to
enliven the neighbourhood to the best of her ability. The
intimacy between these two young ladies was only riveted
more closely by the necessity of living under different roofs;
Adeline, indeed, protested that she found the separation so
distressing, that she thought it would be an excellent plan, to
divide the winter together, between Charleston and New
York; Jane to pass the first three months with her, and she,
in her turn, to accompany her friend to Charleston, later in
the season. But Jane thought her mother would now wish
to have her return home as soon as possible, as it was already
nearly a year since she had seen her family. This affair,
however, was not quite decided; Adeline declaring that she
could not bear to give up the idea, hinting that there were
all-important reasons for their remaining together during the
next winter.
Elinor often wondered that her cousin should find so much
far from liking herself; and she could not help thinking that
Adeline was more persevering in pursuit of Jane, than was
agreeable. The dislikes of young girls of seventeen are
seldom violent, however, whatever their likings may be.
She made the best of it, and the three girls were often
together.
One evening, when they had been drinking tea at Mrs.
Taylor's, Elinor was much struck with a change in Jane's
manner, which she had already observed several times of
late, when they had been in society together.. As they were
coming home, and alone together in the carriage, she spoke
to her cousin on the subject.
“How gay you were to-night, Jane! I never saw you in
better spirits.”
“Was I? Well, I'm very tired now; it is almost too
much for me, Elinor, to be so lively.”
“Was it an effort? Did you not feel well?” inquired
Elinor.
“I felt very well, indeed, before we went; but it tires me
so to be animated.”
“If it fatigues you to go out, my dear Jane, we had better
stay at home next time we are asked; but I thought you
wished to go this evening.”
“So I did. It does not tire me at all to go out; there is
nothing I like so much as going to parties. If one could
only do as they pleased—just sit still, and look on; not be
laughing and talking all the time, it would be delightful.”
“That is what I have often done at parties,” said Elinor,
smiling; “and not from choice either, but from necessity.”
“Do you really think that a person who is engaged ought
not to talk?”
“No, indeed;” said Elinor, colouring a little, as she
laughed at the inquiry. “I meant to say, that I had often
sat still, without talking, at parties, because no one took the
trouble to come and speak to me. Not here, at home, where
winter.”
“Oh, but you never cared about being a belle. Adeline
says everybody knows you are engaged, and it is no matter
what you do or say. But Adeline says, to be a belle, you
must laugh and talk all the time, whether you feel like it or
not; and she thinks you need not be particular what you
talk about, only you must be all the time lively. The young
men won't dance with you, or hand you in to supper, unless
you entertain them. Adeline says she is too high-spirited to
sit by, moping; and so am I, too, I'm sure!”
“But Jane, you are so very pretty, there is no danger of
your being overlooked.”
“No, indeed, you are mistaken,” said Jane, with perfect
naïveté. “I was at two or three small parties, you know,
in New York, while I was staying with Mrs. Stanley, this
spring; well, I missed more than half the quadrilles, while
those fat Miss Grants, and the Howard girls, were dancing
all the evening. Adeline says it is all because I was not
lively. They don't think anything of you unless you are
all the time talking, and laughing, and moving about; and it
does tire me so—I'm almost sick of it already. I'm sure I
shall never be able to be lively at Charleston, in warm
weather. I shan't be a belle, Elinor, I'm afraid!” said the
young beauty, with something like a sigh.
“Poor Jane!” said Elinor, laughing, though she really
felt provoked with Adeline for giving her cousin such
notions; Jane looked half worn-out with the evening's
exertions. “And I believed, all the time, that you were in
such good spirits! Charlie and I were looking at you with
surprise; we thought Mr. Van Horne, and John Bernard
must be telling you something very amusing, you were
laughing and talking so much.”
“No, indeed; it was I, who was trying to amuse the
gentlemen.”
But Jane was not destined to try the effect of the Charleston
in New York, where she met them. She found letters there
from her sister, Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, to her mother and
herself, strongly urging the propriety of Jane joining their
party, for the last year of their European visit. Mrs. Hazlehurst
thought travelling would be of great service to her
sister, in every respect; it would, probably, restore her
health entirely; in Paris she would take lessons from the
best masters, if she wished it—besides enjoying the advantages
of seeing the Old World; at the same time that, in
her sister's family, she would be as well taken care of, as if
at her father's house, or at Wyllys-Roof. It was an opportunity
which might not occur again, and Mrs. Hazlehurst
wrote so urgently, that her parents consented to the arrangement,
provided Jane, herself, liked the idea. An old friend
of the family, Mrs. Howard, was to sail next month for
France, and would willingly take charge of Mrs. Graham's
daughter during the voyage: everything was settled, it only
remained for Jane, herself, to decide. She was far less
anxious, however, to see the wonders of Europe, than many
other young persons would have been. Elinor congratulated
her warmly upon her good fortune, and dwelt upon the
pleasure she would, no doubt, enjoy; still, Jane appeared
rather indifferent to the plan, and it would probably have
been abandoned, had it not been for two circumstances.
Her father thought the voyage and change of air might
have a happy effect on her health, and improve it permanently;
and, at the same time, Miss Adeline Taylor threw
the whole weight of her influence into the scales; she had
a long private interview with Jane, which seemed to decide
the matter. The arrangements were made, and the first of
September, Jane, accompanied by her parents, Miss Agnes,
and Elinor, went on board the Hàvre packet, and was placed
under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Howard. Though the separation
took place under such happy auspices, there were
some tears shed, of course. Elinor felt quite sad at parting
but time and tide soon separated the cousins, and the last
farewell, and waving of handkerchiefs, were exchanged.
Elinor had placed in Jane's hands a small package, and
a letter, for Harry. The last we do not think ourselves
privileged to open; but the little box we know to have contained
a purse of her own knitting, and a lock of hair,
which was sent at the special request of Harry, as he intended
to have it placed in a ring by a Paris jeweller. Jane's
baggage contained, moreover, in addition to her own paraphernalia,
several articles that one would not expect to find
among a young lady's trunks and hat-boxes. She carried
with her a barrel of buckwheat, a keg of cranberries, and a
couple of jars of ginger — dainties for which, it appeared,
some American friends of the Hazlehursts had sighed, even
amid all the delicacies of Paris.
In a few weeks, the family at Wyllys-Roof had the pleasure
of hearing of Jane's safe arrival in Paris. The good
news came through Harry, and we shall give his letter, since
it was the last Elinor received from him in some months.
“You will be glad to hear that Jane passed the barriers,
this morning, with the Howards. She has just finished a
letter to Mrs. Graham; and, as she dislikes writing so much,
has given me leave to announce her arrival to all at Wyllys-Roof.
As Jane enters Paris on one side, I leave it in the
opposite direction, for, the day after to-morrow, I am off for
Constantinople; a movement which will, no doubt, astonish
you, though, I am sure, you will wish me joy of such pleasant
prospects. This letter will probably be the last you
will hear of me, for some time; not but what I shall write as
usual, but these long overland mails, through countries
where they suspect revolution or plague, in every letter,
often fail to do their duty. In fact, I delayed my journey a
of Longbridge news before setting out. Everybody tells me,
I must expect to lose more than half my letters, both ways.
This is bad enough, to be sure; but a journey to Greece and
Constantinople, would be too full of delights, without some
serious drawback. I believe Jane is more tired by answering
our questions, and hearing what we have to tell her, than
by her voyage. I cannot help wishing, my dear Elinor,
that it were you who had arrived in Paris, instead of our
pretty little cousin. How I should delight in showing you
my favourite view, the quais and the island, from the Pont
Royal—the Louvre, too, and the Madeleine. As for Jane,
she will, doubtless, find her chief pleasures at Delilles', and
the Tuileries — buying finery, and showing it off: it has
often puzzled me to find out which some ladies most enjoy.
“We are to be a party of four of us, on our eastern expedition.
In the first place, Ellsworth, whom you may have
seen; a very clever fellow, and brother-in-law to poor
Creighton. By-the-bye, Mrs. Creighton is still here, and
has been living, very quietly, with her brother, since her
husband's death; she is now going to the Howards, who are
her connexions, I believe; so says Louisa, at least. Ellsworth,
you know, poor fellow, lost his wife about a year ago;
he has left his little girl with her mother's friends, and has
come abroad for a year or two. Having been in Europe
before, he was very glad to make one, in our party to the
East, where he has not yet been. I mention him first, for
he is the most agreeable of our set. There is not much to
be said on the chapter of young Brown; and, I must confess,
that I don't quite agree with Col. Stryker, in the very
good opinion he evidently entertains of himself. By-the-bye,
American Colonels are as plenty, now-a-days, as the `Marquis'
used to be, at Versailles, in the time of the Grand
Louis. Some simple European folk, actually believe that
each of these gentry has his regiment — in the garrison
of `Nieu Yorck,' I suppose; it would puzzle them, I
don't remember to have seen one of Uncle Sam's soldiers for
five years before I left home.
“Many thanks, dearest Elinor, for the contents of your
box; you cannot doubt but they will accompany your preux
chevalier on his pilgrimage. This Eastern movement has
been such a sudden one, that I have still a thousand things
to do, which will oblige me to make my letter shorter than
I wish. Ellsworth is waiting for me, at this moment. We
expect to be gone six, or, possibly, eight months. I shall
write again from Marseilles; and, I hope, the letter from
thence will reach you. Pull Bruno's ears for me, and don't
let him forget his master; which will be one way, my dear,
kind Elinor, of obliging you to remember that individual also.
Best respects to Mr. Wyllys and Aunt Agnes, with much
love for yourself, dearest Elinor, from
with you; I wrote to her last month.”
| CHAPTER VI. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |