 | CHAPTER XXIII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
23. CHAPTER XXIII.
“Is not true love of higher price
Than outward form, though fair to see?”
Coleridge.
Harry had a busy autumn that year. He had two important
objects in view, and within a few weeks he suc
ceeded in accomplishing both. He was very desirous, now
all difficulties were removed, that his marriage with Elinor
should not be deferred any longer than was absolutely necessary.
“There cannot be the shadow of a reason, love, for waiting,”
he said to her within a few days of the explanation.
“Remember, it is now six years since you first promised to
become my wife—since we were first engaged.”
“Six years, off and on,” said Elinor smiling.
“Not really off more than a moment.”
Elinor shook her head and smiled.
“No; not really off more than a very short time.”
“Very well,” said Elinor archly; “but don't you think
the third and the fourth too.”
“No indeed; I have been thinking it all over; and in the
first place there has not been a moment in those six years
when I have not loved you; though to my bitter mortification
I confess, there was also a moment when I was in love with
another, but it was a very short moment, and a very disagreeable
one to remember. No; I wish you to look well into
those six years, for I honestly think they will appear more to
my credit than you are at all aware of. I shan't be satisfied
until we have talked them over again, my part at least; I
don't know that you will submit to the same examination.”
“Oh, you have already heard all I have to say,” she replied,
blushing deeply; “I shan't allude to my part of the
story again this long while.”
Nevertheless, Harry soon succeeded in obtaining her consent
to be married within six weeks; in fact she made but
few objections to the arrangement, although she would have
preferred waiting longer, on account of the recent afflictions
of Jane and the Hubbards.
The important day soon arrived, and the wedding took
place at Wyllys-Roof. A number of friends and relatives
of both parties were collected for the occasion; Mrs. Stanley,
Robert Hazlehurst and his wife, the late Mrs. George Wyllys
and her new husband, or as Harry called them, Mr. and
Mrs. Uncle Dozie, the Van Hornes, de Vauxes, Bernards,
and others. Mary Van Alstyne was bridesmaid, and Hubert
de Vaux groomsman. The ceremony which at length united
our two young friends, was impressively performed by the
clergyman of the parish to which the Wyllyses belonged;
and it may be doubted whether there were another couple
married that day, in the whole wide world, whose feelings
as they took the solemn vows were more true, more honourable
to their natures, than those of Harry and Elinor.
Talking of vows, it was remarked by the spectators that
the groom made his promises and engagements in a more
for, strange to say, your grooms, happy men, are often awkward,
miserable swains enough in appearance; though it
would be uncharitable in the extreme, not to suppose them
always abounding in internal felicity. There was also another
observation made by several of the wedding-guests,
friends of Harry, who were then at Wyllys-Roof for the
first time, and it becomes our duty to record the remark,
since it related to no less a person than the bride; it was
observed that she was not as pretty as a bride should be.
“Mrs. Harry Hazlehurst is no beauty, certainly,” said
Albert Dangler to Orlando Flyrter.
“No beauty! She is downright ugly—I wonder at Hazlehurst's
taste!”
Unfortunately for Elinor, the days are past when benevolent
fairies arrive just at the important moment, and by a
tap of the wand or a phial of elixir, change the coarsest
features, the most unfavourable complexion, into a dazzling
image of everything most lovely, most beautiful. Nor had
she the good luck of certain young ladies of whom one reads
quite often, who improve so astonishingly in personal appearance
between fifteen and twenty—generally during the
absence of the hero—that they are not to be recognized, and
a second introduction becomes necessary. No; Elinor was
no nearer to being a beauty when Harry returned from
Brazil, than when he went to Paris; she was just as plain
on the evening of her wedding as she was six years before,
when first presented to the reader's notice.
Jane, though now in widow's weeds, was just as beautiful
too, as when we first saw her; she was present at her cousin's
wedding, as Elinor wished her to be there, although in a
deep mourning dress. Patsey Hubbard was also in the
drawing-room during the ceremony, and in deep black; but
she left her friends as soon as she had expressed her warmest
wishes for the happiness of her former pupil: she wept as
she turned from the house, for she could not yet see that
one bright young face from the group.
Among those who had declined invitations to the wedding,
were Mr. Ellsworth and Mrs. Creighton, although both had
expressed many good wishes for the affianced couple; the
gentleman wrote sincerely, but a little sadly perhaps, as it
was only six weeks since his refusal; the lady wrote gracefully,
but a little spitefully it is believed, since it was now
generally known that Harry must recover entire possession
of his fortune.
This vexatious affair was, in fact, finally settled about the
time of Harry's marriage; and, thanks to the disclosures of
Stebbins, it was no longer a difficult matter to unravel the
plot. As soon as William Stanley's representative, or in
other words, Hopgood, found that Stebbins had betrayed him,
he ran off, but was arrested shortly after, tried and convicted.
He was no sooner sentenced, than he offered to answer any
questions that might be asked, for he was anxious that his
accomplice, Clapp—who had also taken flight, and succeeded
in eluding all pursuit—should be punished as well as himself.
It appeared that his resemblance to the Stanleys was
the first cause of his taking the name of William Stanley;
he was distantly related to them through his mother, and, as
we may often observe, the family likeness, after having been
partially lost for one or two generations, had appeared quite
strongly again in himself; and as usual, the peculiarities of
the resemblance had become more deeply marked as he grew
older. Being very nearly of the same age, and of the same
pursuit as William Stanley, he had actually been taken for
the young man on several occasions. He had been in the
same lawyer's office as Clapp, whom he had known as a
boy, and had always kept up some intercourse with him;
meeting him one day accidentally, he related the fact of his
having passed himself off for William Stanley by way of a
joke. “The sight of means to do ill deeds, makes deeds
ill done:” Clapp seemed from that moment to have first
to Hopgood, who was quick-witted, a good mimic, and quite
clever enough for the purpose. The idea was repeatedly
abandoned, then resumed again; Hopgood having purposely
shipped under the name of William Stanley, several times,
and practised an imitation of William Stanley's hand by
way of an experiment. Finding no difficulties in these first
steps, they gradually grew bolder, collecting information
about the Stanleys, and carefully arranging all the details.
Stebbins had frightened them on one occasion; but after
having obtained possession of the papers in his hands, Clapp
determined to carry out their plan at once; he thought the
probability of success was strongly in their favour, with so
much evidence within their reach; and the spoils were so
considerable, that they were in his opinion worth the risk.
The profits of their roguery were to be equally divided, if
they succeeded; and they had also agreed that if at any
moment matters began to look badly, they would make their
escape from the country together. Hopgood, who was generally
supposed by those who had known him, to have died
at New Orleans twenty years since, had been often with
William Stanley when a lad in the lawyer's office; he knew
the house and neighbourhood of Greatwood perfectly, and had
a distinct recollection of Mr. Stanley, the father, and of many
persons and circumstances that would prove very useful.
Clapp easily obtained other necessary information, and they
went to Greatwood, examining the whole house and place,
in order to revive Hopgood's recollections; while at the same
time they made but little mystery of their excursion, hoping
rather that when discovered it would pass off as a natural
visit of William Stanley to the old home which he was
about to claim. The whole plan was carefully matured
under Clapp's cunning management; on some doubtful
points they were to be cautious, and a set of signals were
agreed upon for moments of difficulty; but generally they
were to assume a bold, confident aspect, freely offering an
forged handwritting as a letter to Mrs. Stanley. The volume
of the Spectator was a thought of Clapp's; he bribed a boy
to admit him into the library at Greatwood one Sunday,
when the housekeeper was at, church, and he selected the
volume which seemed well suited to his purpose; removing
the boy from the neighbourhood immediately after, by giving
him high wages in a distant part of the country. As for
Mr. Reed he was completely their dupe, having been himself
honestly convinced of the identity of Clapp's client.
It was nine years from the time the plot first suggested itself,
until they finally appeared as public claimants of the estate
and name of William Stanley, and during that time, Clapp,
who had never entirely abandoned the idea, although Hopgood
had repeatedly done so, had been able to mature the
plan very thoroughly.
The declarations of Stebbins and Hopgood were easily
proved; and Harry had no further difficulty in resuming
possession of Greatwood.
Clapp was not heard of for years. His wife, little Willie,
and two younger children, became inmates of the old grey
cottage, under the care of Miss Patsey, who still continues
the same honest, whole-souled, benevolent being she was
years ago. Patsey was now quite at her ease, and enabled
to provide for her sister Kate and the three children, and it
was to poor Charlie she owed the means of doing so; by
an unusual precaution in one so young, he had left a will,
giving everything he owned to his mother and eldest sister.
Shortly after his death, some of his friends, Hazlehurst
among the number, got up an exhibition of all his pictures;
they made a fine and quite numerous collection, for Charlie
had painted very rapidly. The melancholy interest connected
with the young painter's name, his high reputation
in the particular field he had chosen, the fact that all his
paintings were collected together, from the first view of Chewattan
lake taken when a mere boy, to the sketch of Nantucket
death, and the sad recollection that his palette was now
broken for ever, attracted unusual attention. The result of
that melancholy exhibition, with the sale of some remaining
pictures, proved sufficient to place his mother and sister,
with their moderate views, in very comfortable circumstances;
thus even after his death Charlie proved a blessing to his
family. In looking over the young man's papers, Patsey
found some lines which surprised her, although they explained
several circumstances which she had never before fully understood;
they betrayed a secret, underclared attachment,
which had expressed itself simply and gracefully in verses
full of feeling and well written. It was evident from these
lines that poor Charlie's poetical imagination, even from
early boyhood, had been filled with the lovely image of his
young companion, Jane Graham: there was a beautiful
sketch of her face among his papers, which from the date,
must have been taken from memory while she was in Paris.
It was clear from the tone of the verses, that Charlie had
scrupulously confined his secret within his own bosom, for
there were a few lines addressed to Jane since her widowhood,
lamenting that grief should so soon have thrown a shadow
over that lovely head, and concluding with a fear that she
would little value even this expression of sympathy from
one, to whom she had only given careless indifference, and
one who had never asked more than the friendship of early
companionship. Patsey hesitated for a moment, but then
decided that the miniature and the verses should never be
shown—they should meet no eyes but her own; Charlie had
not spoken himself, his secret should remain untold.
We must not omit to mention, that a few weeks after
Charlie's death young Van Horne offered himself to Mary
Hubbard, the youngest daughter of the family; he was accepted,
and the connexion, which was very gratifying to
Patsey and her mother, proved a happy one. Mrs. Hubbard
survived her daughter's marriage several years. Kate
from the time of Clapp's flight; the children are now growing
up promising young people, and they owe much to Patsey's
judicious care. Willie, the hero of the temperance meeting,
is her favourite, for she persuades herself that he is like her
lost Charlie; and in many respects the boy happily resembles
his uncle far more than his father. Last year Mrs. Clapp
received for the first time, a letter in a handwriting very like
that of her husband; its contents seemed distressing, for she
wept much, and held several consultations with Patsey. At
length quite a little sum was drawn from their modest means,
Kate packed up her trunk, took leave of her sister and children,
and set out upon a long and a solitary journey. She
was absent for months; but letters were occasionally received
from her, and at length she returned to the grey cottage in
deep mourning. It was supposed that she was now a widow;
and as Patsey upon one single occasion confirmed the report,
the opinion must have been correct, for Patsey Hubbard's
word was truth itself. No public account of Clapp's death,
however, reached Longbridge, and his name was never
mentioned by the Hubbards; still, it seemed to be known at
last that Mrs. Clapp had gone to a great distance, to attend
her husband during a long and fatal illness: and Mrs. Tibbs
also found out by indefatigable inquiries, far and near, that
about the same time one of the elders of Joe Smith, the
Mormon impostor, had died of consumption at Nauvoo; that
he had written somewhere several months before his death,
that a delicate-looking woman had arrived, and had not
quitted his side as long as he lived; that immediately after
his death she had left Nauvoo, and had gone no one knew
whither. It is quite certain that a young man from Longbridge
travelling at the west, wrote home that he had seen
Mrs. Clapp on board a Mississippi steamer, just about that
time. The story is probably true, although nothing very
positive is known at Longbridge.
As for Hopgood, we have already mentioned that he had
imprisonment for his share in that unprincipled, audacious
conspiracy. A year afterwards, however, it pleased those in
authority to send him out into the community again; he
was pardoned—
As all reserve is generally dropped in the last chapter, we
may as well tell the reader a secret of Mrs. Creighton's.
We have every reason to believe that she never cared much
for Harry, although she always cared a great deal for his
fortune. She was determined to marry again, for two reasons;
in the first place she did not wish to give way to a
sister-in-law, and she knew her brother intended marrying;
and then she never could manage that brother as she wished;
he was by no means disposed to throw away as much time,
thought, and money upon dissipation, as she would have
liked. She wanted a rich husband, of course; Harry did
very well in every particular but one—she thought him too
much like her brother in his tastes to be all she desired; still
he suited her better than any of her other admirers, and she
would have been quite satisfied to accept him, had he kept
his fortune. Without that fortune, it was a very different
affair; he was no longer to be thought of for a moment.
We strongly suspect also, that the pretty widow saw farther
than any one else into the true state of matters between
Elinor and Harry, long before the parties themselves had
had an explanation; and for that reason, so long as she was
determined to take Hazlehurst for her second husband, she
decidedly encouraged Ellsworth's attention to Elinor. Since
we are so near the last page, we shall also admit that Mrs.
Creighton had quite a strong partiality for Mr. Stryker, while
the gentleman was thoroughly in love with her; but neither
was rich, and money, that is to say wealth, was absolutely
necessary in the opinion of both parties; so Mr. Stryker
went off to New Orleans in quest of a quadroon heiress recommended
to him, and Mrs. Creighton became Mrs. Pompey
Taylor, junior; marrying the second son of the merchant,
and resembled his brother in every respect except in
being much less handsome. The happy couple sailed for
Europe immediately after the ceremony.
We are sorry to say that Mr. Taylor, the father, suffered
severely, not long after the marriage of his second son, by
the great fire; he suffered also in the great panic, and in
various other panics which have succeeded one another.
Still he has not failed, but he is a poorer man than when we
first had the honour of making his acquaintance. In other
respects he is much what he was fifteen years ago, devoted
as much as ever and as exclusively as ever to making money;
still valuing everything, visible or invisible, by the market-price
in gold, silver, or bank-notes; although unfortunately
much less successful than at the commencement of his career,
in accumulating dollars and cents; his seems to be “the fruitless
race, without a prize;” and yet Mr. Taylor is approaching
the time of life when the end of the race cannot be very
distant.
Adeline is improved in many respects, her mother's advice
has had a good effect on her; still it is amusing to see her
already training up several little girls for future belles, on her
own pattern; rather it is believed to the annoyance of her
quiet husband. Emma Taylor is decidedly less lively, she
too having in some measure composed herself, after achieving
belle-ship and matrimony.
Mr. and Mrs. Uncle Dozie removed from Longbridge not
long after their marriage; they have since returned there
again, and now, by the last accounts, they are again talking
of leaving the place.
Mrs. Hilson still continues to annoy her family with a
persevering ingenuity, for which certain silly women appear
peculiarly well qualified; at times she talks of taking the
veil in a nunnery, at others, of again entering the bands of
Hymen with some English aristocrat of illustrious lineage;
she confesses that either step would be sufficiently romantic
and aristocratic to suit her refined tastes, but which she will
er Emmeline has profited much more than the “city lady”
herself by the follies of the past; she has lately married a
respectable man, one of their Longbridge neighbours, much
to her father's satisfaction.
Mary Van Alstyne remains single, and passes much of
her time with Elinor.
Some eighteen months after Harry's marriage, one evening
as he was sitting on the piazza at Wyllys-Roof, he received
a letter which made him smile; calling Elinor from the
drawing-room, he communicated the contents to her. It was
from Ellsworth, announcing his approaching marriage with
the lovely Mrs. Taylor, or in other words, our friend Jane.
Harry laughed a good deal, and coloured a little too, as he
plainly saw by the tone of the letter, that his friend was
going through precisely the same process as himself, during
his Paris days, when he first discovered such wisdom in the
depths of Jane's dark eyes, such delicacy of sentiment in the
purity of her complexion, such tenderness in every common
smile of her beautiful lips. Ellsworth, however, would probably
not find out as soon as himself, that all these beauties
made up a lovely picture indeed, but nothing more; for his
friend was an accepted suitor, and might indulge himself by
keeping agreeable fancies alive as long as he chose; while
Harry had been rather rudely awakened from his trance by
very shabby treatment in the first place, and a refusal at last.
To Hazlehurst, the most amusing part of Ellsworth's story
was, an allusion to a certain resemblance in character between
Mrs. Taylor and `one whom he had so much admired, one
whom he must always admire.'
“Now, Elinor, do me the justice to say I was never half
so bad as that; I never pretended to think Jane like you, in
one good quality.”
“It would be a pity if you had—Jane has good qualities
of her own. But I am rejoiced to hear the news; it is an
excellent match for both parties.”
“Yes; though Jane is a lovely puppet, and nothing more,
look after her. It is to be hoped they are satisfied; I think
we are, my sweet wife; don't you?”
His frank, natural, affectionate smile as he spoke, was tolerably
satisfactory, certainly as to his estimate of his own fate;
and it is to be hoped the reader is by this time sufficiently
well acquainted with Elinor and Harry, to credit his account
of the matter. From all we know of both, we are ourselves
disposed to believe them very well qualified to pass through
life happily together, making the cheerful days pleasanter,
and the dark hours less gloomy to each other.
Harry seems to have given up his diplomatic pursuits for
the present at least; he remains at home, making himself
useful both in private and public life. Last year he and
Elinor were at the Rip-Raps, accompanied by Mr. Wyllys
and Miss Agnes, and a little family of their own—several
engaging, clever, well-trained children. The little girls,
without being beauties, are not plain; they are indeed quite
as pretty as Jane's daughters; the only ugly face in the
young troop belongs to a fine-spirited little fellow, to whom
it is of no consequence at all, as he has just discarded his
petticoats for ever. Perhaps, both father and mother are
pleased that such is the case; the feeling would seem to be
one of those weaknesses which will linger about every
parent's heart. Yet Elinor acknowledges that she is herself
a happy woman without beauty; and Harry, loving her as
he does for a thousand good reasons, and inclinations, and
partialities, sometimes actually believes that he loves her the
better for that plain face which appeals to his more generous
feelings. Many men will always laugh at an ugly woman,
and the idea of loving her; but is it an error in Hazlehurst's
biographer to suppose that there are others who, placed in
similar circumstances, would feel as Harry felt?
| CHAPTER XXIII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |