University of Virginia Library

1. ELINOR WYLLYS.
CHAPTER I.

Rogers.

Had there been a predecessor of Mr. Downing in the
country, some five-and-twenty years since, to criticise Wyllys-Roof,
the home of our friend Elinor, his good taste would
no doubt have suggested many improvements, not only in the
house itself, but also in the grounds which surrounded it.
The building had been erected long before the first Tudor
cottage was transported, Loretto-like, across the Atlantic, and
was even anterior to the days of Grecian porticoes. It was a
comfortable, sensible-looking place, however, such as were
planned some eighty or a hundred years since, by men who
had fortune enough to do as they pleased, and education
enough to be quite superior to all pretension. The house
was a low, irregular, wooden building, of ample size for the
tastes and habits of its inmates, with broad piazzas, which not
only increased its dimensions, but added greatly to the comfort
and pleasure of the family by whom it was occupied.

The grounds were of the simplest kind. The lawn which
surrounded the house was merely a better sort of meadow,
from which the stones and briars had been removed with
more care than usual, and which, on account of its position,
received the attention of one additional mowing in the course
of the summer. A fine wood, of a natural growth, approached

quite near to the house on the northern side, partially sheltering
it in that direction, while an avenue of weeping elms led
from the gate to the principal entrance, and a row of locusts,
planted at equal distances, lined the low, rude stone wall
which shut out the highway. One piazza was shaded by
noble willows, while another was faced by a row of cherry
trees, flanked by peach and pear. Fruit trees, although so
common and so lavish of their blessings in this climate, are
often gathered about American country-houses, instead of
being confined to gardens devoted to the purpose, as in Europe;
a habit which pleasantly reminds us that civilization
has made a recent conquest over the wilderness in this new
world, and that our forefathers, only a few generations back,
preferred the trees of the orchard to those of the forest, even
for ornament. Fruit trees are indeed beautiful objects when
gay with the blossoms of spring, or rich with the offerings of
summer, and, mingled with others, are always desirable about
a dwelling as simple and unpretending in its character as
Wyllys-Roof. Beneath the windows were roses and other
flowering shrubs; and these, with a few scattered natives of
the soil—elm, hickory, sycamore, and tulip trees—farther
from the house, were the only attempts at embellishment that
had been made. The garden, surrounded by a white paling,
was thought an ornamental object, and lay within full view
of the drawing-room windows; and yet it was but a mixture
of the useful and the beautiful, in which the former largely
predominated. As a kitchen-garden it was certainly excellent;
but the narrow flower-borders, which surrounded the
ample beds of melons and strawberries, asparagus and cauliflowers,
would have appeared meanly furnished in the eyes
of a flower-fancier of the present day. There was not a
hybrid among them, nor a single blossom but what bore a
plain, honest name; and although there were lilies and roses,
pinks and violets in abundance, they would probably have
been all rooted out by your exclusive, fashionable gardener
of the last summer, for they were the commonest varieties
only. There were but two walks on the lawn; one of these
was gravelled, and led to the garden-gate; the other was a
common foot-path leading to the river, where the gentlemen
of the family kept their boats, and where the cattle, who often
grazed on the lawn, went to drink. The grounds were
bounded on one side by a broad river, on the other by a
sufficiently well-travelled highway. What particular river
and highway these were, through what particular state and
county they ran, we do not think it incumbent on us to reveal.
It may easily be inferred, however, that Wyllys-Roof belonged
to one of the older parts of the country, at no great distance
from the seaboard, for the trees that shaded the house were
of a growth that could not have been reached by any new
plantation in a western settlement.

The interior arrangements of Wyllys-Roof corresponded
very naturally with the appearance of things outside. The
ceilings were low, and the apartments small and numerous;
much room had been thrown into broad, airy passages, while
closets and cupboards abounded. The whole of the lower
floor had originally been wainscoted, but Miss Agnes Wyllys
was answerable for several innovations in the principal rooms.
When Mr. Wyllys decided to make his country-place a permanent
residence, his daughter, who was at the head of his
establishment, fancied that the furniture they had brought
from their house in town could not be advantageously disposed
of, without cutting folding-doors between the drawing-rooms.
It was fortunate that a couple of adjoining rooms
admitted of this arrangement, for at that day, two drawing-rooms
of equal size, united by wide folding-doors, were considered
a necessary of life to all American families “on hospitable
thought intent.” It seems to have been only very
recently that any other arrangement has been found possible,
an important discovery, which, like many others that have
preceded it, was probably the happy effect of necessity, that
mother of invention. Mr. Wyllys having cut through the
partition, was next persuaded to take down the wainscoting,

and put up in its place a French paper, very pretty in its
way, certainly, but we fear that Miss Agnes had no better
reason to give for these changes than the fact that she was
doing as her neighbours had done before her. Miss Wyllys
was, however, little influenced in general by mere fashion,
and on more important matters could think for herself; this
little weakness in favour of the folding-doors may therefore
be forgiven, and justly ascribed to the character of the age
in which she lived and gave tea-parties.

For several years after they removed permanently to
Wyllys-Roof, the family, strictly speaking, consisted of Mr.
Wyllys, his unmarried daughter, and the usual domestics,
only. They were seldom alone, however; they had generally
some friend or relative with them, and in summer the
house was often filled to overflowing, during the whole season,
with parties of friends, or the different branches of a large
family connection; for the Wyllyses had their full share of
that free spirit of hospitality which seems characteristic of all
classes of Americans. After a time, however, another member
was received into the family. This was the orphan
daughter of Mr. Wyllys's eldest son, an engaging little girl,
to whom her grandfather and aunt were called upon to fill
the place of the father and mother she had lost. The little
orphan was too young, at the time, to be aware either of the
great affliction which had befallen her, or of her happy lot in
being committed to such kind guardians, in merely exchanging
one home for another.

The arrival of the little Elinor at Wyllys-Roof was the only
important event in the family for some ten or twelve years;
the Wyllyses were not much given to change, and during
that period things about them remained much as they have just
been described. We defer presenting the family more especially
to the reader's notice until our young friend Elinor had
reached her seventeenth birth-day, an event which was duly
celebrated. There was to be a little party on the occasion,

Miss Agnes having invited some half-dozen families of the
neighbourhood to pass the evening at Wyllys-Roof.

The weather was very warm, as usual at the last of August;
and as the expected guests were late in making their
appearance, Mr. Wyllys had undertaken in the mean time
to beat his daughter at a game of chess. Elinor, mounted on
a footstool, was intent on arranging a sprig of clematis to the
best advantage, in the beautiful dark hair of her cousin Jane
Graham, who was standing for that purpose before a mirror.
A good-looking youth, whom we introduce without farther
ceremony as Harry Hazlehurst, was watching the chess-players
with some interest. There were also two ladies sitting
on a sofa, and as both happened at the time to be
inmates of Wyllys-Roof, we may as well mention that the
elderly gentlewoman in a cap was Mrs. Stanley, the widow
of a connection from whom young Hazlehurst had inherited a
large property. Her neighbour, a very pretty woman, neither
young nor old, was Mrs. George Wyllys, their host's
daughter-in-law, and, as her mourning-dress bespoke her,
also a widow. This lady was now on a visit to Wyllys-Roof
with her young children, whom, as she frequently observed,
she wished to be as much as possible under the influence of
their father's family.

Mr. Wyllys's game was interrupted for a moment, just as
he was about to make a very good move; a servant came to
let him know that a drunken man had been found under a
fence near the house. The fellow, according to Thomas's
story, could not be roused enough to give a straight account
of himself, nor could he be made to move.

“Is it any one you know, Thomas?” asked Mr. Wyllys.

“No, sir, it's no one from hereabouts. I shouldn't wonder
if he was a sailor, by the looks of his trowsers and jacket. I
guess it is some loafer on his way to Longbridge.”

What could be done with him? was the question. The
ladies did not seem to like the idea of having a drunken man,
whom no one knew, brought into the house at night.

“I dare say it is the same person I heard asking the way
to Wyllys-Roof this morning, when we stopped at the turnpike-gate,”
observed Mrs. Stanley. “He looked at the time
as if he had been drinking.”

Elinor suggested that possibly it might be some old sailor,
who fancied he had a claim upon Mr. Wyllys's kindness—
Mr. George Wyllys having died a commander in the navy.

Harry volunteered to go out and take a look at him, and
the party in the drawing-room awaited the result of this reconnoitring.
At the end of five minutes Hazlehurst returned
with his report.

“As far as I can judge by the help of moonlight and a
lantern, it is no very prepossessing personage. He swore at
me roundly for disturbing him, and I take it the fellow is
really a sailor. I asked him what he wanted at Wyllys-Roof,
but we could not make anything out of him. To keep him
from mischief, we locked him up in one of the out-houses.
It is to be hoped in the morning he will be sober enough to
tell his errand.”

The matter thus settled, nothing farther was thought of it
at the time, and in another moment the game of chess was
won, and the flower secured in a becoming position. Mrs.
Stanley had been watching Elinor's movements with a smile.

“You are an expert hair-dresser; the flowers are much
prettier as you have arranged them,” said the lady to her
young friend.

“Is it not a great improvement? They looked heavy as
Jane had arranged them before—I have taken out more than
half,” replied Elinor.

Mrs. George Wyllys looked up from the newspaper she
was reading, and suggested a change.

“I think the clematis would look better on the other side.”

“Do you really think so, Aunt Harriet? I flattered myself
I had been very successful: it strikes me that it looks
very well.”

“What is it that looks so well, ladies?” said Mr. Wyllys,

rising from the chess-table and drawing near the young
people. “The flower? Yes, the flower and the face are
both very pretty, my dear. What is it? a honeysuckle?”

“No indeed, grandpapa,” answered Elinor, “it is a clematis—this
is a honeysuckle, a monthly honeysuckle, which
Jane had twisted with it; but to my fancy the clematis is
prettier alone, especially as it is so precious—the very last
one we could find.”

“Why don't you put the honeysuckle in your own hair,
Nelly? it is a very pretty flower. Being queen of the evening,
you should certainly wear one yourself.”

“Oh, I never wear flowers, grandpapa; I cannot make
them look well in my hair. This bouquet must proclaim
my dignity to-night.”

“It is pretty enough, certainly, my child, for any dignity—”

“Is it not rather large?” said Harry. “Why, Elinor, you
have smothered my humble offering in a whole wilderness
of sweets!”

“Not quite as bad as that,” said Elinor, smiling—“I only
put with yours, a few Aunt Agnes and Miss Patsey gave me
—look at Jane's if you wish to see a bouquet of a reasonably
fashionable size.”

“Bouquets are worn very large this summer,” said Jane
Graham, in a languid tone, resting her beautiful eyes on the
bunch in her hand.

“Fashion even in flowers!” exclaimed Mr. Wyllys.

“So it would seem,” replied Elinor, smiling.

“And, pray,” said Harry, taking a rose from a vase near
him, “if a friend were to offer a flower for your belt, since
you will not place one in your hair, would fashion permit it
to be worn?”

“I don't believe it would, Nelly,” said her grandfather.

Elinor looked just a little embarrassed, and a little pleased.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the rose Harry offered;
and while securing it in her sash, she felt that she coloured.

But the flush was scarcely observed on a cheek as dark as
hers.

“Well, Agnes, it is high time your friends came, unless
they expect a rout,” said Mr. Wyllys, stepping towards a
window to look out. “Who are we to have?”

“Your new neighbours, sir, the Taylors; your old friends,
the Hubbards, Van Hornes, Bernards—”

“I hope you will like the Taylors, Agnes; but I don't
know much about them. I am glad you thought of asking
them this evening, for he brought me a letter, you remember,
from New York.”

“As there is a young lady in the family, and a son just
grown up. I thought they might like to dance,” replied Miss
Agnes. She then turned to Mrs. Stanley, and asked that
lady, who lived in New York, if she knew anything of these
new neighbours of theirs.

“I never heard of them,” replied Mrs. Stanley. “But
they may be very important people, and make a great deal
of noise, for all that; as I only see my old friends, and live
so quietly myself, I don't even know the names of half the
people who pass for fashionable.”

“I never suspected our new neighbours of being fashionable,”
replied Mr. Wyllys; “but I hope they will turn out
pleasant, sensible people, for your sake, ladies; and, then, if
Taylor is a chess-player, that will leave nothing farther to be
desired.”

“Here comes somebody, at last!” exclaimed Mrs. George
Wyllys, hearing a carriage. “The Van Hornes, I suppose.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Hazlehurst, who was standing
near the window, “that is the Taylor equipage; why the
`tastiness' of the Taylor barouche is visible even by moon-light.”

The party in the carriage, consisting of father and mother,
son and daughter, soon alighted, and appeared in the drawing-room.
They were introduced by Mr. Wyllys, and received
politely by his daughter and her niece.

“I am gratified, sir,” said the tall and thin Mr. Taylor,
with a pompous tone, “in having so early an opportunity of
making our ladies mutually acquainted.”

“We shall hope to see your family often, Mr. Taylor,”
replied his host. “You must not forget that we are near
neighbours; and we country folk think a great deal of neighbourhood,
I assure you.”

“Yes; of course the restraints of society must be much
greater in a city, than in a more sparsely settled section.”

“I hope your new purchase suits you on farther examination.
The farm is certainly a very good one; but the house,
I should think, must want repairs.”

“It does, sir; I calculate to build, however, next year.
The present dwelling is much too small.”

“The house might suit us, I think,” observed Mrs. Taylor,
who, with Miss Agnes, had taken a seat, while the young
people were standing, chatting, near them. “If husband
would put up a back-building, we should have room enough.”

Miss Wyllys remarked, that even a small addition, often
increased very much the convenience of a house.

“Certainly, madam; but I apprehend, if I had added
wings and a back-building to the premises, as I first intended,
Mrs. Taylor would still have found the house not sufficiently
spacious. Now our young ladies and gentlemen are growing
up, we must have more room for company.”

“Well,” added his wife, “I expect to see a good deal of
tea and dinner company, next summer, with the house as
it is.”

“The young people will be much obliged to you for your
kind intentions, Mrs. Taylor; ours is not a very gay neighbourhood,”
said Miss Wyllys.

“So I should conclude,” remarked Mr. Taylor.

“I don't know, Agnes,” said her father; “if you include
Longbridge in the neighbourhood, I think we may call ourselves
a gay set.”

“True, sir,” said Miss Agnes; “but as we seldom go

there ourselves in the evening, it had not struck me in that
light. But very possibly, Mrs. Taylor and her young ladies
may be more enterprising than Elinor and myself.”

“Four miles, madam,” interposed Mr. Taylor, “with a good
vehicle and good horses, is no great distance. Longbridge
seems to be in a very flourishing condition, sir;” turning to
Mr. Wyllys.

“Yes, the place is looking up; they are very busy just
now. They are building a good deal, this summer.”

“I observed several tasty mansions, in what may be called
the suburbs; in particular a brick edifice, being erected, I
understand, by Joseph P. Hubbard.”

“The brick house near the bridge? Yes, it will be the
largest about here. Hubbard is building it more to please
his daughters than himself, I fancy.”

“It promises a great display of taste—I observe he has
reserved half his lot, in front of the mansion, for a park.”

“Hem—Yes, there will be just half an acre in it. Does
Hubbard call it a park?” asked Mr. Wyllys, with an amused
expression about his eyes.

“I applied the term myself,” replied the knowing Mr.
Taylor. “I was altogether much pleased with the appearance
of your village, sir. It has a lively business for such a
small place—things really look quite citified there. If I had
seen Mr. Hubbard's mansion, before concluding my bargain
for my present location, I think I should have made him an
offer.”

“I am very glad you did not, husband. I was brought up
on a farm, Miss Wyllys, and I am very happy that we have
got in the open country. Besides, Mr. Hubbard's house will
be too large for comfort.”

“Ha, ha!” faintly laughed Mr. Taylor; “you seem to like
room out of doors better than within, Mrs. Taylor.”

At this moment two persons walked quietly into the room,
and were received very kindly by Miss Wyllys and Elinor.
One was a woman of about forty, plainly, but neatly dressed,

with a pleasing face, remarkable for a simple expression of
common sense and goodness. Her manners corresponded
perfectly with her appearance; they were quiet and pleasant.
The lad who accompanied her was a boy of sixteen, small,
and slightly made, with good features, and an uncommonly
spirited and intelligent countenance. They might very naturally
have been taken for mother and son; but they were, in
fact, brother and sister.

“Well, Charlie, my lad,” said Mr. Wyllys, placing a hand
on the boy's shoulder, “I hear the important matter is at last
under full consideration.”

“Yes, sir; my friends have all but consented; even sister
Patsey is coming round. It will be all settled next week, I
hope.”

“I wish you joy of your success, Charlie,” cried Hazlehurst.

“Not yet, if you please, Mr. Hazlehurst,” said Miss Patsey
Hubbard, smiling good-naturedly. “It is only a conditional
consent, Charles, you must remember.” Then turning to
Mr. Wyllys, she added—“All our friends seem to agree with
you, sir, and Miss Wyllys: my uncles think Charles ought
to show what he has done to some experienced painters,
and have their opinions. We feel very anxious on the
subject.”

“Remember to persevere, young man, if you once begin,”
said Mr. Wyllys.

“No danger but I shall, sir,” said the boy rather proudly.

“I hear, Charles, that half the fault of your obstinacy is
thrown upon my shoulders,” said Elinor. “Those Lives of
the Painters were an unfortunate present; they seem quite to
have turned your head; I am afraid Miss Patsey will not
soon forgive me.”

“I can't thank you enough for them, Miss Elinor—you
don't know what pleasure I have had with them.”