27. XXVII.
BEFORE THE ASSEMBLY.
Since the scenes which we have just
described more than three months had
passed. It was the depth of winter, and
the city of Williamsburg, the capital of
Virginia, residence of the viceroy, and
centre of fashion for the time, was in all
its glory.
Before a mirror, in an upper apartment
of a house near the governor's
“palace,” as it was called, Honoria was
standing one evening, busily arranging, in
multitudinous braids and plaits, the dark
locks of Meta, who half reclined, with a
delighted expression of countenance, in
a velvet arm-chair, gazing at herself in
the low-swung mirror.
Honoria, who stood behind the dark
little beauty at her work, was clad in her
dressing-gown; her hair was in disordered
curls upon her shoulders, and her
toilet was yet to be made. At a window
near stood her sister Lou, in magnificent
ball-costume—all lace, satin, jewels, and
powder—erect, superb, turning her head
from moment to moment to gaze at the
pair in front of the mirror, and beating
an impatient tattoo upon the windowpane.
The last words of Dr. Vandyke to
Lady Brand, on leaving “Rivanna,” after
Honoria's convalescence, had been:
“Madam, if you wish your daughter
to regain her roses and lose the mortal
pallor you see in her cheeks, take her
away from Rivanna. Give her gayety,
change of scene, distraction of some
kind: what she now requires is forgetfulness.”
Lady Brand had repeated these words
to her husband, and that gentleman had
responded—chin elevated, hand passing
slowly and with dignity between his collar
and his neck:
“Hum! — ha! — gayety, distraction,
change of scene? Well, madam, that
comports with my own views. I have
affairs of some importance to transact at
Williamsburg, and design going thither.
You and the young ladies may accompany
me, and make a protracted stay if
you desire to do so.”
The affairs of importance were imaginary.
Colonel Brand had long promised
himself the luxury of exhibiting the
beauty of his daughters in the viceregal
capital; and, greatly alarmed by the
now unmistakable attachment between
Innis and Honoria, he had already determined
to remove the young lady to
new scenes, and, if possible, effect a
match between her and some wealthy
young scion of the seaboard. Dr. Vandyke's
advice, therefore, coincided with
his own views. No time was lost in
making arrangements for spending the
winter with his family in Williamsburg,
whither Lady Brand decided to go. A
house was procured and furnished; every
article of comfort and luxury sent down;
and, in due time, the old, lumbering
chariot, drawn by its four horses, landed
the colonel and his family at their “town
mansion” in the capital.
On the evening when we present the
young ladies to the reader they were
preparing for their first formal ball or
“assembly”—to take place at the palace
of his excellency. Or, rather, Miss Lou
Brand had made her preparations, while
Honoria, busy with Meta, had not begun
her own.
“For Heaven's sake, Honoria, make
haste and have done with Meta!” exclaimed
Miss Lou Brand, at last, out of
all patience. “The chariot will be at
the door in half an hour, and you'll not
be dressed.”
“That is time enough, sister,” said
Honoria, with her habitual smile, full of
sweetness, and a little sadness.
“Time enough! Who ever heard of
a young lady dressing for a ball in thirty
minutes? Your hair alone will take an
hour!”
“If I choose to spend an hour arranging
it, sister; but I shall not.”
“But, begin—begin!”
“Meta's hair is nearly done.”
“Why in the world did you not leave
it to one of the maids?”
“Meta wished me to arrange it, sister,
and you know how obstinate the
poor child is when she takes a fancy.”
“Yes, I do—hateful little creature!”
said Miss Lou Brand, with emphasis.
“We must make allowance for her
infirmity, sister. She is very unfortunate,
and has few pleasures. Something—I
know not what—has made her attach
great importance to this ball—to her appearance—”
“Something!” exclaimed the elder
beauty, with a satirical but not ill-natured
laugh; Lou Brand was incapable
of ill-nature. “`Something!' you know
very well what that something is: Edmund
Innis will be there, and Meta is—
in love with his lordship, Mr. Wythe's
worshipful law-student!”
Honoria blushed, and Meta, as though
she knew when Innis's name was pronounced,
by the very movement of any
one's lips in uttering his name, riveted
her eyes with a dark and angry expression
upon the elder young lady, who
thereupon burst into a ringing laugh.
“The world is full of finesse, secret
motives, and things sans les cartes!”
she
cried. “Women, even girls like Meta,
are eternally scheming! But, come,
come, Honora!—I won't tell you that you
too are blushing—ha, ha!—but I do tell
you that, unless you commence your toilet,
you'll not be at the ball.”
“There, there, sister, I've done,” said
Honoria, hurriedly. “At least, Meta,
poor thing, is pleased; and, it is so good
to make people happy, sister! I'll get
ready in a moment.”
And this remarkable young lady, who
had forgotten her own hair, to fix a poor
girl's, began energetically dressing.
“No!” exclaimed Lou Brand, resolutely,
“you shan't throw your things
on in that way, Honoria! If you don't
know it, I'll tell you, that you are going to
be the belle of the assembly—the centre
of all eyes; and I don't intend to have
those hateful old dowagers in turbans,
ranged, like sunflowers and hollyhocks
gone to seed, along the wall, nodding
and tittering behind their fans, and chattering
to each other, and whispering:
`Just see Miss Honoria Brand, the beauty!
Did you ever see so frightful a toilet?'
No!”
And, sweeping toward Honoria, the
energetic beauty threw down her pearl
fan, took possession of her sister, and
busily began dressing her hair, which,
under the plastic fingers, soon rose in an
exquisite tower of curls, brilliant, powdered,
and interwoven with pearls.
“Now your hair is something like!
Where is your white satin?”
To this abrupt question Honoria replied,
rather timidly:
“I thought of wearing my blue silk,
sister.”
“Your blue silk?”
“Why not?”
“Did anybody ever hear of such an
idea? You are utterly absurd, Honoria!
—at the governor's assembly!”
“That does not impress me greatly;
and you know I am not a bride, sister.”
“You never will be, either, at this
rate, madam! Your blue silk! You positively
shall not!”
“Well, have it your way, sister: the
white satin let it be.”
A maid quickly laid out the gorgeous
costume upon a bed; the young lady's
toilet was finished, and her sister, retreating
a step, looked at her, with head
sidewise, admiringly. Then she rushed
at her, rearranged a curl, retied a bow
of ribbon, slightly drew a fold of lace
across one of the snowy shoulders, and
exclaimed:
“You really are a beauty, Honoria;
and will have everybody looking at you!”
Honoria blushed and smiled. What
woman could listen to such an observation
coldly? She gazed at herself in the
glass, and then, as the thought came to
her “He will see me,” her cheeks grew
crimson. In a corner of the chamber,
Meta, with her strange, crouching attitude,
was watching her. Miss Lou
Brand, who seemed to understand every
thing and everybody, turned and looked
at her, and quickly ran to her, and seized
her arm.
“Go on, you little wretch, and get
into the coach—I hear it at the door!”
she exclaimed.
With which, Miss Lou Brand hustled
Meta out of the room, and shut the
door.
“Now I feel more at my ease!” she
exclaimed. “That hateful creature was
standing there, glowering at you, dear,
and thinking that Edmund Innis would
see her, too! What a goose! He has
no eyes for any one but you! And now
stop blushing, and come on. Your blue
silk? Absurd! The white satin! And
you shall marry him, and be happy, and
wear white as a bride yet, dear!—and I
mean to dance at your wedding—and let
myself be kissed, too, by—my brother
Edmund!”
