University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

Shakspeare.

While the family at Wyllys-Roof were in this distress,
Miss Agnes had received the parting visit of the Taylors.
The porticoes of Colonnade Manor rose before closed windows;
the house was abandoned for the winter; while Mr.
Taylor and Miss Adeline were engaged in putting the finishing
touch to the elegance of No. five hundred and —,
Broadway, preparatory to the display of the winter.

Mr. Taylor was getting at home in New York. The
atmosphere of a large town, thoroughly commercial, was just
fitted to his nature. He had certainly every reason to be
satisfied with the rapidity with which he had mounted towards
the top of the Wall-Street ladder. He was already
cheek-by-jowl with certain heavy men of the place; he
walked down Broadway of a morning with “Mr. A. of the
Ocean,” and up again of an afternoon with “Mr. B. of the
Hoboken;” he knew something of most of the great men of
the commercial world; and as for the rest of the community,
he cared little enough for them or their interests. His house
was as handsome and as finely furnished as he could wish,

his children were as expensively dressed, as expensively
schooled, as any in the land. He had become accustomed to the
first burst of luxury, and began already to look upon a hundred
things as necessaries, of the uses of which he had been
ignorant five years before. He thought New York a commercial
paradise; not only the place to make a fortune, but
the very spot to spend it in. He wondered at Mr. Hubbard,
who could be satisfied to retire from business so early, and
was content to live at Longbridge, the village where he was
born. Mr. Taylor looked upon himself as already a great
man, but he intended to be a greater man still, by a million,
or more.

About a week after the Taylors arrived in town, they gave
a party—quite a small affair, very sociable, some eighty or
ninety people only. The following morning, Mrs. Taylor,
fatigued with the toils and cares of gaiety, went to her own
room to refresh herself by darning more stockings than
usual; while Mr. Taylor, who had laboured hard the evening
before by endeavouring to be very `affable' to some
twenty new acquaintances, sought the relief of his counting-house.
As he walked down Broadway, his thoughts were
divided between two subjects. He had purchased some lots
the previous week, which proved so indifferent a bargain,
that he was anxious to persuade a particular friend to take
them off his hands. He had also just received a letter from
his son, lately Tom Taylor, now T. Tallman Taylor, Esquire.
The young man had made very heavy demands upon his
father's banker lately. Mr. Taylor was perfectly satisfied
that his son should spend his money freely, and had given
him a very liberal allowance, that he might be enabled to
cut a figure among his countrymen in Paris. But his progress
in acquiring habits of extravagance had become of late
rather more rapid than was desirable. As he was to return,
however, in the course of a few weeks, his father hoped that
he would be able to play the dandy in New York at less cost
than in Paris.

Mr. Taylor's meditations were interrupted by Mrs. Hilson,
who stopped to speak to him as he passed; she wished to
inquire if Miss Adeline were at home, as she was anxious to
see her, having a piece of news to communicate. Having
given a satisfactory answer, the merchant pursued his course
towards the regions of commerce, at one extremity of Broadway,
and the city-lady went her way towards the regions of
fashion in the opposite direction.

Mrs. Hilson had already returned to her suite of apartments,
and her intimate friend, Mrs. Bagman, at the boarding-house
she patronised; and every morning between the hours of
twelve and three, she might be seen at the window of the
drawing-room, if it rained, or flitting up and down Broadway
if the sun shone, generally attended by Captain Kockney,
the long Englishman, whom she took great pleasure in
showing off to the public. On the present occasion she was
alone however, and fortunate enough to find Miss Adeline
and the French furniture visible, for it was the first time she
had been in the new house. The rose-coloured damask, and
the pea-green satin of the two drawing-rooms was much
admired, and many compliments were lavished upon the gilt
clocks, the Sèvres vases, &c., when Mrs. Hilson remembered
she had a piece of news to share with Miss Taylor.

“And such news—so unexpected to us all; you will be
so surprised! The engagement between Miss Wyllys and
Mr. Hazlehurst is actually broken off!”

Adeline was not so much astonished as Mrs. Hilson supposed
she would be.

“I am very quick at seeing such things,” she said. “I
was sure it would come to that; though Miss Wyllys did
not seem to suspect anything herself. But no wonder—an
engagement of two years is too long for anybody. I am
sure that in two years I should get tired of the handsomest
beau in New York.”

The ladies had each their surmises as to which of the
parties had taken the first step, and what was probably the

cause; but although Miss Taylor had a pretty correct idea
of the state of things, she did not express her opinion on the
subject very decidedly. Mrs. Hilson soon made her curtsey,
expressing the hope that they should see each other very often
during the winter; a hope which Miss Adeline was determined
not to gratify, for Mrs. Hilson's standing was not sufficiently
fashionable to satisfy her. The visitor had no sooner
left the room, than she ran up stairs to put on her last Paris
hat, and her handsomest cashmere, and then hurried off to
Barclay-Street to enjoy a confidential meeting with Jane.

The young ladies were closeted together for an hour. We
have no authority for revealing what passed, and can only
observe that Jane returned to the drawing-room with a
heightened colour, and there was a certain expression of
mystery still lingering about Miss Adeline's face.

“Have you any commands for Boston, Mrs. Graham?”
the young lady inquired in her usual flippant manner. “I
think I shall go there next week, to pay a short visit to a
friend of mine; I wish I could hear of an escort.”

Mrs. Graham thanked her civilly, but declined the offer
of her services.

“Have you really made up your mind to go to Boston?”
asked Jane.

“Why, not positively. It depends, as I said before, upon
my finding an escort. I have six pressing invitations from
different quarters, most of them acquaintances that I made
last summer at Saratoga; and I have been hesitating between
Albany, Boston, or Baltimore. I am determined to go somewhere
to spend the next three weeks, till the gaiety begins
in earnest, and Tallman comes back.”

“Is your brother expected so soon?” asked Mrs. Graham.

“Yes, he must have sailed now. We heard from him
last night; he will be here next month, I hope, just in time
for the first great parties. What would you advise me to
do, Jane, to get rid of the time until then?”

“I had much rather you would stay at home; if you go,
I shall miss you very much.”

“But then we shall have the pleasure of corresponding—
I like the excitement of receiving a good long letter, full of
nonsense, above all things.”

“You must not forget to let me know which way you are
really going,” said Jane. “I will write, though I can't promise
you a long letter; I never wrote a long letter in my
life.”

“Well, you must write, at any rate. I shall see you half-a-dozen
times between this and Monday. I rather think I
shall decide upon Boston. Miss Lawrence says there are
some delightful young gentlemen there, and has promised to
give me a ball. If I go, I shall try hard to bring Miss Lawrence
back with me. Mind, Jane, you don't make too many
conquests while I am gone. You must reserve yourself for
the one I have recommended to you. Oh, by-the-bye, Mrs.
Graham, I forgot to tell you the news; I am astonished you
have not heard it already.”

“Pray, what is it?” asked Mrs. Graham.

“It seems the engagement between Miss Wyllys and Mr.
Hazlehurst has been broken off.”

“You are mistaken, surely! We have heard nothing of
it, and it is highly improbable. If there be such a story, let
me beg you will not mention it again, Miss Taylor!”

“Oh, there is no mistake, I'm quite sure. I have heard
it three times already this morning, from Longbridge people;
first Mrs. Hilson told me, and then I met John Bibbs, and
Edward Tibbs, who said the same thing. Mrs. George
Wyllys, it seems, contradicted the engagement openly; Miss
Hubbard heard her, and wrote it to her sister.”

“How grieved I should be if this story were to prove true;
you surely never remarked anything, Jane?”

“Elinor seemed to me just as usual; but Adeline thinks
there has been some change,” said Jane, a little embarrassed.

“Oh, yes, give me credit for being quick-sighted; I

suspected something the first time I saw them together after
Mr. Hazlehurst came back.”

“It is what none of their other friends appear to have
done, Miss Taylor,” said Mrs. Graham, a little severely.

“I dare say not; but I am very quick at seeing such
things. If Jane has any mysteries, she had better not pretend
to keep them from me. But it is no wonder that the
engagement was broken off—I don't believe in long engagements.
We must not let Jane drag matters on at that rate
when her turn comes;” and then kissing her friend tenderly,
and making a curtsey to Mrs. Graham, without remarking
the disapproving expression of that lady's face, the lively
Adeline left the mother and daughter alone.

“I dislike that Miss Taylor, excessively, Jane,” observed
her mother, “she is very disagreeable to me; I wish you
would find some better companion while we are in New
York. There are the Howards, and de Vaux's — very
amiable, pleasant girls, and for a great many reasons far
better associates for you.”

“But I don't know them so well. Adeline is a great belle,
mamma, as much so as any girl in town.”

“She is not at all to my taste, I confess. Your father, too,
dislikes the Taylors very much. The way in which she
spoke of this story about Elinor's engagement was really
unfeeling. Not that I believe it; but breaking off an engagement
without good reason, is no such trifle in my opinion,
as it seems to be in that of Miss Taylor.”

Jane looked quite agitated; she blushed so much that her
mother would probably have remarked it, had she not been,
at the moment, stooping over her little invalid boy, who was
lying on the sofa near her.

“Miss Taylor has no claim whtaever upon you, that I can
see,” continued Mrs. Graham. “It is true she was kind to
you when you were ill with the whooping-cough at school;
but so were your other companions—and I am sure she has

not been half so considerate and good to you as Elinor, and
yet you seem to prefer Miss Adeline now.”

Poor Jane looked down, and coloured still more.

“Adeline would do anything for me, mother,” she said, in
a low voice; “you don't know how much she is attached to
me; I can't help linking her,” and Jane began to shed a few
tears.

“Foolish child!” said her mother, beginning to relent, as
she usually did on such occasions, “I don't wish you to be
uncivil to her; but I should like you to be more with Kate
Howard, and Anne de Vaux;” and the conversation ended,
as several others of the same description had done, by leaving
things precisely as they were before. Mrs. Graham, indeed,
looked upon herself as having showed much decision on the
occasion, and acted as a watchful mother, by having made
these objections, fruitless as they proved to be.

The report that the engagement between Elinor and Harry
had been broken off, was soon known to be correct. It
caused some surprise to all who knew them, and much
regret to their friends. Mrs. Stanley, who felt a warm interest
in both Harry and Elinor, was grieved and disappointed.
The Grahams, and Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, felt very unpleasantly
when the cause of the rupture came to be
suspected. Mrs. Graham was, however, relieved by finding
that there was no understanding between Harry and her
daughter—thus far at least all was right; no explanation
had taken place between them, and Jane even assured her
mother that when in Paris, she had had no idea that Hazlehurst
was attached to her. Still there were many blushes
whenever the subject was alluded to, there were confidential
meetings with Adeline, and other symptoms which left little
doubt to her friends that Jane's feelings were interested.
Mrs. Graham was obliged to console herself with the idea,
that the mischief had, at least, been unintentional on the part
of her daughter.

Harry, himself, was much mortified by the reception of

Elinor's note, which, by showing the full consequence of his
conduct, made it appear more culpable in his own eyes than
he had yet been willing to believe it. He even wrote a
second time, begging Elinor to re-consider her decision
Full as his fancy was of Jane, yet his regard, one might say
his affection, for Elinor, was too well-founded, and of too
long standing, for him to endure quietly the idea of having
trifled with her. She remained firm, however; her second
answer was as decided as the first. Harry's self-reproach
was sincere, at least, and he had never before felt so much
dissatisfied with himself.

He was less eager than one might suppose, to profit by
his newly-acquired liberty. He was in no hurry to offer
Jane the attentions which had so lately been Elinor's due.
It is true that his position was rather awkward; it is not
every faithless swain who is obliged to play the lover to two
different individuals, within so short a period, before the same
witnesses. At length, after doing penance for a while, by
encouraging humiliating reflections, some fear of a rival
carried Hazlehurst on to New York, in his new character
of Jane's admirer. The first meeting was rather awkward,
and Harry was obliged to call up all his good-breeding and
cleverness, to make it pass off without leaving an unpleasant
impression. “Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte,” however,
as everybody knows. The sight of Jane's lovely face,
with a brighter colour than usual, and a few half-timid and
embarrassed glances from her beautiful dark eyes, had a
surprising effect in soothing Harry's conscience, and convincing
his reason that after all he had not acted so unwisely.
He soon showed himself very much in earnest in seeking
Jane's favour; though he persuaded himself that he must
always do justice to Elinor's excellence. “She is just the
woman for a friend,” he observed to himself, “and friends I
trust we shall be, when the past is forgotten. But Jane, with
her transcendant beauty, her gentle helplessness, is the very
creature that fancy would paint for a wife!”