 | CHAPTER XXIII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
23. CHAPTER XXIII.
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set,
May'st hear the merry din.”
Coleridge.
The events of the next two months surprised Jane's friends
in Philadelphia, almost as much as her rejection of Harry
had done. Mrs. Hazlehurst, of course, knew what was
going on in her father's house, and from time to time informed
Miss Wyllys and Elinor of what passed. Elinor had written
to Jane, but it was a long time before she received an answer;
her cousin appeared engrossed by her own affairs; as this
was common with Jane at all times, it was but natural that
she should be so, at a moment which was of so much importance
to herself. Mr. Graham arrived at the time appointed;
and, of course, he was very much displeased by
the news which awaited him. He would not hear of Jane's
marrying young Taylor, whose advances he received as
coldly as possible, and even forbade his daughter's seeing
any of the Taylor family. Jane was very much distressed,
and very much frightened. As for Miss Taylor, her indignation
was so great, that she determined to pay no respect to
Mr. Graham's hostility; she wrote to Jane a long letter,
much in her usual style, giving very pathetic accounts of
to show to either of her parents; she soon received
another, with a note from young Taylor himself. As she
was reading them one morning, her father unexpectedly
entered the room, and was thrown into a great passion by
the discovery. His temper was violent, and he was subject
to fits of passion which terrified his children; although, in
other respects, by no means an unkind parent. Upon this
occasion, Jane was frightened into hysterics, and afterwards,
owing to the agitation which had been preying on her mind
for some months, she was thrown into a low nervous fever.
During the four or five weeks that she was ill, every morning
Miss Taylor called to inquire after her friend, although she
was not admitted. By this conduct, Mrs. Graham's heart,
which was of no stern material, was much softened. At
length she went to the drawing-room to see Miss Taylor, for
a moment. Adeline improved the time so well, that she
placed herself and her brother better with Mrs. Graham
than they had ever yet been. Jane's illness increased; her
parents became seriously alarmed, and Mr. Graham expressed
something like regret that he had been so hasty.
His wife often remembered his words during her daughter's
tedious convalescence, which was interrupted by a relapse.
In short, matters began to look less discouraging for young
Taylor's suit. There could be no doubt, at least, that he
was very much in love with Jane: Hazlehurst was quite
mistaken in supposing that the perfection of her profile, the
beautiful shape of her head, the delicacy of her complexion,
or other numberless beauties, could only be appreciated by
one whose taste was as refined as his own: they had produced
quite as deep an effect on young Taylor. During
Jane's illness, he had shown the proper degree of distress
and anxiety, all of which was reported in the most pathetic
manner to Mrs. Graham, and whispered to Jane by Adeline,
who, having once been received again into the house, kept
her footing there and managed an occasional interview with
very rare in America; the fault in family discipline lies in
the opposite direction.
His daughter's pale face, his wife's weakness, and Adeline's
good management, and improvement of every concession,
at length worked a change in Mr. Graham. At the
proper moment, Tallman Taylor renewed his offer in the
warmest and most flattering terms; supported by his father, and
his father's hundreds of thousands, he this time received a
more favourable answer. Mr. Graham was one of those
men, who have no very high opinion of women; he did not
wish to make his daughter miserable for life; and he thought
she had too little character to conquer the fancy that had filled
her mind, and made her ill. Then, young Taylor was rich,
and she could throw away money on those knick-knacks
and frippery, to which, according to Mr. Graham, women
attach such exorbitant value. If she did not marry him, she
would fancy herself a victim, and miserable; if she did
marry him, she would fancy herself happy: that seemed to
him the amount of the matter, and with these views he at
length gave a reluctant consent. Mrs. Graham had already
given hers; Tallman Taylor was certainly not the son-in
law she would have chosen; but she was farther from being
dissatisfied, than many of her friends thought she would be
under the circumstances. Neither the story of his college
engagement, nor the unpleasant rumours respecting his Paris
career, had reached Mr. or Mrs. Graham; the first was
known only to Adeline and Jane, the last to a few male intimates.
The news, very naturally, caused a good deal of
sensation among Jane's friends in Philadelphia; it was really
distressing to Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, who looked upon her
sister as thrown away, and reproached herself more than
ever for having allowed Jane to go out so often in Paris with
their thoughtless friends, the Howards. She could not endure
to think of young Taylor, as actually her brother-in-law,
the husband of her beautiful sister. She had not supposed
her father's opposition too strong to be overcome.
As for Harry, he, of course, soon heard the news from
his brother. How much of love and of mortification were
still lingering in his mind, we cannot precisely affirm. His
feelings for Jane had certainly altered very much since the
discovery of the double-dealing that had been going on; but
weak as she had proved herself, she was still much too lovely,
much too well-bred, at least, to be bestowed upon one whom
he disliked as much as Tallman Taylor. There seemed to
be something of the dog in the manger, connected with his
regret for Jane's fate, since he had already decided that if she
were ever free again, he would not repeat his offer; she had
shown herself to have so little character, that he would not
allow himself to be again influenced by her beauty, surpassing
as it was. In fact, Harry had determined to give up all
idea of love and matrimony, for the present, at least. He
went into society less than of old, and gave himself up very
much to his profession, or other literary pursuits in which he
had become engaged. He had been admitted to the bar, and
had entered into a partnership with his travelling companion,
Mr. Ellsworth; much of his time was now passed at his
brother's house, or at that of his friend. He liked his sister-in-law,
and he found Ellsworth's sister, Mrs. Creighton, who
was at the head of her brother's establishment, a very agreeable
woman; she was very pretty, too, and very clever.
The Wyllyses were already in the country, when the news
of Jane's engagement reached them; the winter had broken
up early, and, as usual, at the first signs of spring they had
returned to Wyllys-Roof. Of course, they regretted Jane's
partiality for Tallman Taylor; to Elinor it appeared almost
as unaccountable as her insensibility to Harry's merits. Mrs.
George Wyllys was loud in her declamations against it;
next to the Hubbards, she looked upon the Taylors as the
most disagreeable family of her acquaintance. She had a
great deal to say about the dull, prosy mother, the insufferable
Miss Patsey, also, had her moments of wonder; but she
wondered in silence; she did not appear to have any
higher opinion of the son, than she had formerly entertained
of the father. With these exceptions, the community of
Longbridge in general, who had known Jane from her childhood,
approved highly of the connexion; both parties were
young, handsome, and they would be rich, all which looked
very well at a distance.
Three months of courtship passed over; Jane recovered
entirely, and was as blooming and lovely as ever; young
Taylor was all devotion. The satisfaction of his family at
this connexion with the Grahams was very great; it gratified
Mr. Taylor's wishes in every way. It is true, Miss Graham
would not have much fortune herself, but Tallman had
enough to begin life handsomely. He hoped the marriage
would take place soon, as he wished his son, whom he had
made his partner, to take more interest in the business than
he had yet done. In every respect but money, Jane was
just what he would have wished for a daughter-in-law; she
was fashionable, she was beautiful, and the position of her
family gratified his vanity. As for the plain, good-hearted
Mrs. Taylor, she already loved Jane as a daughter; and to
her it appeared the most natural thing in the world, that
Tallman should marry his sister's friend. Adeline, herself,
was of course enchanted.
The wedding took place in June. Thanks to Miss Taylor's
influence with the bride, it proved quite a brilliant affair.
The ceremony was performed in the evening, and immediately
afterwards the newly-married couple received the
compliments and congratulations of their friends. Jane was
attended, on the occasion, by six of her young companions;
and as many young men, with white favours in their button-holes,
were very busy all the evening, playing masters of
ceremonies, escorting all the ladies as they arrived, from the
door to the spot where the bride was stationed. Jane looked
had never appeared more lovely: the ladies pronounced her
dress perfect, and the gentlemen admired her face quite as
much. All agreed that a handsomer couple had not been
seen for some time. It was, indeed, a pretty sight — the
beautiful bride, the centre of a circle of her young friends,
all, like herself, in white, and in full dress; pretty creatures
themselves, wearing pretty ornaments of flowers and lace,
pearls and embroidery. We say they were pretty; there
was one exception, however, for Elinor was there, and
many remarks were made on her appearance.
“What a pity that Miss Wyllys should be so plain,” observed
Mrs. Creighton, whose husband had been a connexion
of the Grahams. “It is the first time I have seen her for
several years, and really I had forgotten how very plain
she is.”
“Plain, why she is downright ugly!” exclaimed the youth
to whom she was talking. “It is a sin to be as ugly as that.
No wonder Hazlehurst was frightened out of the engagement;
I am only surprised he ever got into the scrape!”
“But Miss Wyllys is very clever and agreeable, I understand.”
“Is she?”—was the careless reply. “I see Hazlehurst
is here this evening.”
“Yes, he came on with his sister-in-law, Mrs. Robert
Hazlehurst, and myself.”
“Well, he has a fine opportunity of comparing his two
lady-loves together. Upon my word, I never saw a greater
contrast. I wish Miss Wyllys had not accepted the invitation,
though; she is enough to frighten one away from the
whole set—and the rest are very pretty girls, the whole of
them.”
“Can you point out Mr. Taylor?—Not the groom; I have
seen him, of course; but his father.”
“Don't you know the boss? It is that tall, stiff-looking
very amiable.”
“Yes—that is he, is it? Much the sort of man I should
have supposed him. And now, which is Mrs. Taylor?”
“Mrs. Taylor—let me see; there she is, in grey satin and
diamonds. I never saw her but once before in my life. She
is a very quiet sort of a body, and keeps out of sight most
of the time.”
“Very different from her daughter then, for Miss Taylor
always put herself en èvidence, I believe. If one don't see
her, they are sure to hear her.”
“To be sure, Miss Taylor is all life and spirits. She is
the most lively, animated girl I ever knew. By-the-bye, I
think it an odd fancy in Hazlehurst to show himself here
to-night; for there was a great fuss last winter, at the blow-up—all
the town was talking about it.”
“He is a very near connexion, you know; I suppose his
absence would have been more remarked than his being here.
Besides, if he was in love once, he has had time to get over
it, in the last six months. He does not look much as if he
wore the willow still.”
“Hazlehurst is very clever, I am told; I don't know him
much, myself.”
“Oh, yes—very clever. But I am not a fair judge, perhaps;
he is my brother's friend, and I may be prejudiced in
his favour. How very warm it is! can't we find a seat near
a window?”
The gentleman offered his arm with alacrity, and the
speakers moved away.
The seats they had left were taken by Mrs. de Vaux and
Colonel Stryker: the lady, a middle-aged woman, fashionably
dressed; the gentleman, rather more than middle-aged
in his appearance, and decidedly less so in his dress and
manners.
“Young Taylor is a handsome fellow, and looks the bridegroom
Taylors have pushed upwards; I never heard of them before
I went to Europe this last time, five or six years ago.”
“That is just about the moment they first burst upon the
horizon. Mr. Taylor seems determined to make up for lost
time. He is very disagreeable to us ladies; but the gentlemen
like him on account of his cleverness; they say he is
a genius in all business matters.”
“To judge by his expression, the man seems ambitious
of `les succés de salon,' also. Where did he import his
manners from, I wonder?—they have a sort of bright, new
look, as if he had not yet worn the gloss off.”
“Don't laugh at him;—he gives excellent dinners.”
“Does he? Can't you introduce me, immediately? `Ici
l'ont fait noces et festins.' I seem to smell the turtle-soup,
already.”
“I doubt whether you taste it, nevertheless, until next
autumn. Everybody is going out of town; they say that is
the only drawback to the satisfaction of the Taylors at this
wedding.”
“What is the drawback, pray?”
“They cannot have as many grand parties as they are
entitled to, on account of the season.”
“That must be distressing, indeed, to the brides-maids.
By-the-bye, I see Miss Wyllys is one of them. She is going
to turn out a fortune, I hear;—do you know her?”
“From a child. Last year no one dreamed of her being
a fortune; but within the last few months, Mr. de Vaux tells
me, she has inherited a very handsome property from one
of her mother's family; and, in addition to it, some new rail-road,
or something of that kind, has raised the value of what
she owned before.”
“What is the amount, do you know?”
“Upwards of two hundred thousand, Mr. de Vaux thinks.”
“Miss Wyllys is certainly no beauty; but, do you know,
I think there is something decidedly distinguished in her appearance
I did not happen to know the Wyllyses.”
“I have known them all my life, and like them all very much.
I rather wonder, though, at Miss Elinor's being here as bride's-maid.
But it is a reconciliation, I suppose. Perhaps she
and young Hazlehurst will make up again, and we may be
invited to another wedding, before long.”
“Perhaps so. How long does it take a young lady to
resent an infidelity? A calendar month, I suppose; or, in
extreme cases, a year and a day. By-the-bye, the pretty
widow, Mrs. Creighton, has thrown off her weeds, I see.”
“Yes, she has come out again, armed for conquest, I suppose.
What a flirt she is! And as artful as she is pretty,
Mr. Stryker. But perhaps you are one of her admirers,”
continued the lady, laughing.
“Of course, it is impossible not to admire her; but I am
afraid of her,” said Mr. Stryker, shrugging his shoulders.
“I am horribly afraid of all pretty widows.”
“Mr. Hazlehurst does not seem afraid of her.”
“Not a bit—he is there half his time; but then he is
young and venturesome. We old campaigners are more
wary.”
“He is an old friend of her brother's, I believe; is Mr.
Ellsworth here?”
“Yes, there he is, talking to Miss Wyllys. Perhaps he
may interfere with your prediction about her and my friend
Hazlehurst.”
“Possibly; but à-propos of weddings; why don't you
marry, yourself, Mr. Stryker? You have been a delightful
beau now, for how many years?” asked the lady, mischievously.
“Oh, these five lustres, I suppose; for I began early.”
replied Mr. Stryker, who had too much worldly wisdom, not
to make a merit of frankness, where he could not help it.
“Six, you mean,” said Mrs. de Vaux, laughing.
“No, five, honestly counted. I don't know exactly how
`Stryker can't be more than five-and-forty;' and I dare say
he was right.”
“Well, allowing you are only five-and-forty, don't you
mean to marry, one of these days?”
“Certainly.”
“Don't you think it time to look about you?”
“High time; but who will have me?” continued Mr.
Stryker, with great complacency of manner.
“Oh, half the young ladies in the room, I dare say; excepting,
of course, those who have refused you already,”
said Mrs. de Vaux, mischievously; for it was suspected that
Mr. Stryker had met with several rebuffs. This lady and
gentleman, in spite of their smiling countenances and friendly
manners, owed each other a grudge, of old standing. Who
does not know that where the spirit of littleness and vanity
is all-powerful, these petty trials and triumphs are too often
the chief spring of action; as was the case with Mr. Stryker
and Mrs. de Vaux. Happy they, who have good principle
and good feeling enough, to cast off folly on so small a scale!
“Tell me what is your taste, and I will look out for you,”
continued Mrs. de Vaux.
“How kind you are!—you don't include Miss de Vaux,
of course; for she can't endure me. Like all modest men,
I require only nine hundred and ninety-nine perfections in
my wife. But then I insist chiefly on two essentials: she
must have money, and she must not have brothers and sisters;
I have an invincible antipathy to collaterals, whether of blood
or connexion.”
“Miss Wyllys is the very person for you. Quite a fortune
now, they say; and an orphan, without brother or sister; all
you require. Then, you like her appearance, you say;
though she is plain, she is clever, too, and amiable.”
“Of course; all young ladies are amiable, are they not?”
“I only know of one objection—she is too good for you.”
“Goodness is not to be despised in a wife. I shall require
about the rest of the world. I am much obliged to you, Mrs.
de Vaux, for the suggestion; I'll think of it,” said Mr.
Stryker, deliberately crossing one leg over the other, to make
himself comfortable.
“You, who know everybody, Mr. Stryker,” said the lady,
“pray, tell me, who is that bright-faced young man, or
rather, boy, standing near Mr. Wyllys and Mrs. Stanley?”
“You wish to mortify me—I never saw the lad before.”
“I can answer your question, Mrs. de Vaux,” observed
Harry, who had just approached, and made his bow; “that
is my friend, Charlie Hubbard, the artist. Don't you remember
the fine view of Lake Ontario, that was so much
admired at the Exhibition, this spring?”
“Certainly. Is that the young man?—He looks like a
genius.”
“Rather as a genius should look; your great lions are
often very tame-looking animals,” observed Mr. Stryker.
“Hubbard's face only does him justice, however; he is
full of talent,” said Harry.
“Some of his pictures are certainly very fine,” observed
Mrs. de Vaux.
“I never saw water like his,” continued Hazlehurst; “such
variety, and always true to nature. He almost persuades
one to believe all he says about water: he maintains that it
has more variety of expression than any other inanimate
object, and has, withal, an independent character of its own;
he says it is second only to the human countenance.”
“He seems quite an enthusiast,” said Mrs. de Vaux.
“Won't he take it all out in talk?” asked Mr. Stryker,
drily.
“Look at his view of Hell-Gate on a cloudy evening, and
say so if you can!” exclaimed Harry, warmly.
“Well, after all, he says no more for water, than has been
said by the poets of all nature, from the time of the first
pastoral; they tell us that the sun will make a bare old
into a fuss.”
“I defy you to prove any fuss upon Charlie's works!”
“Perhaps not—Where is his study? I should like to see
what he has done. Is his pencil always amphibious?”
“Yes; I believe he has never yet painted a landscape,
without its portion of water. If you wish to see his study,
you must go soon; he sails for Italy next month.”
“If his partiality for water is really honest, it may help
him on in his profession. Has he a good execution?—that is
all-important.”
“Decidedly good; and he improves every day. Execution
is really all-important to Hubbard; for there can be no
doubt that he possesses all an artist's conception.”
“I suspect though, his notion about expressive water is
not original. It appears to me, some German or other calls
water, `the eyes of a landscape.”'
“Very possibly; but Charlie Hubbard is not the man to
steal other people's ideas, and pass them off for his own.”
“You make a point of always believing the worst of everybody,
Mr. Stryker,” said Mrs. de Vaux.
“I wish I could help it.” said the gentleman, raising his
eyebrows.
“Suppose, Mr. Hazlehurst, you take him to Mr. Hubbard's
studio, and force him to admire that fine picture of Lake
Ontario. I should like to see it again, myself; and Mr. de
Vaux has been talking of carrying us all to Mr. Hubbard's,
some time.”
Harry professed himself quite at Mrs. de Vaux's service.
Mrs. Stanley, he said, was going to see his friend's pictures
the very next day. A party was soon arranged, the hour
fixed, and everything settled, before supper was announced.
As Mrs. de Vaux and Mr. Stryker moved towards the door,
they were followed by Mrs. Creighton and Harry.
“Who was the young man you were talking with at
supper, Josephine?” asked Mr. Ellsworth, as he stepped into
from the wedding.
“Which do you mean?”
“A mere boy — one of the groomsmen, by the white
favours in his button-hole.”
“Oh, that was the groom's brother, Mr. Pompey Taylor,
the younger, a very simple, and rather an awkward young
gentleman. I had the honour of making the acquaintance
of all the family, in the course of the evening. I was quite
amused with Mr. Taylor, the father; he really seems to have
as great a relish for the vanities of life, as any young girl of
fifteen.”
“Because they are quite as new to him,” said Hazlehurst.
“That is difficult to believe of a clever, calculating man
of fifty,” observed Mr. Ellsworth.
“All clever men of fifty are not quite free from nonsense,
take my word for it,” said the lady. “I appeal to Mr. Hazlehurst,
who knows Mr. Taylor; as for myself, I am convinced
by the man's manner this evening.”
“You are certainly correct in your opinion, Mrs. Creighton.
Mr. Taylor is, no doubt, a clever man; and yet he
takes delight in every piece of finery about his house. He
is more possessed with the spirit of sheer ostentation, than
any man I ever met with.”
“Ah, you want to save the credit of your sex, by setting
him down as an exception!—that is not fair, Mr. Hazlehurst.”
It was a pity that the pretty smile which the lady bestowed
on her brother's friend was entirely thrown away: but the
lamp-light happened to be little more than darkness visible.
| CHAPTER XXIII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |