University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
THE RATTLE OF TONGUES.

A month had flown onward, making the gorgeous
forests still more brilliant in their coloring; the mountains
still more beautiful; freshening still more the bracing
air, which, long dreaming of the warmth of the summer
sun, was loth to give up all at once the glories of his
smile. But that smile if not so warm was brighter—and
its splendor flashed along the morning streams, and broke
above the waving trees at noon, and broadened to a red
faced, silent burst of merry laughter, when across the
mountain the great orb went dragging with him one more
golden autumn day.

Barry had never thought the mountains so beautiful—
though he made the discovery, very soon, that Sally's
smile added much to their attraction.

At last the day approached for the marriage of the
“young folks;” and Doctor Thomas averred that never
in all his travels had he seen such a commotion; perhaps
this was in consequence of Sally's great popularity with
the young (and old too) of both sexes, in the neighborhood.
Certainly, her wedding was looked forward to with
rejoiceful expectation, and the young girl was scarcely
suffered to “sew a stitch” for herself; her friends insisted
on doing it all for her. Hunter John had brought back
from Martinsburg what all considered a magnificent white
watered silk, and dozens of consultations were held before
the precise fashion of the dress was determined on. Nina

Lyttelton was here the loudest and most authoritative
speaker.

“Oh! low necked by all means!” she cried. “Who
would have a great stiff silk up to her throat?”

“But,” suggested one of the young ladies, “it is not
summer time.”

“What of that?”

“Low necks are for summer!”

“Nonsense!” cried Nina, laughing.

“I know why you are for low necks!”

“Why?”

“You are wearing a low-necked dress now.”

Nina laughed still more loudly.

“I appeal to Doctor Thomas,” she said, as that gentleman
entered, “if that is not the prettiest and most
suitable.”

“What, ladies?” asked the doctor.

“The neck bare in a bride.”

“Why, now—”

“Come, doctor, you shall decide—”

“I can easily decide one question, madam; namely,
whether such fashions are becoming. Mrs. Lyttelton
has never looked more radiant.”

Nina laughed.

“Still,” said the doctor, “it seems to me only proper
and reasonable, that Miss Sally herself should have some
part in this discussion, as she is to wear the dress.”

This decision was on all sides voted down, as ridiculous,
and an unwarrantable innovation on established usage; and
in the midst of the clamor Sally herself entered, looking
like a rose-bud. The important question was finally decided,
and the young girl was entering her room when the
doctor made her a sign that he wished to speak to her.

“A present for you, Miss Sally, from your friend—or
rather my friend, Mrs. Courtlandt,” he said, giving her a
costly pair of ear-rings.

“Oh, thank you!” said the girl, delighted; “that's just
what I wanted: but do you think father would let me
take them from—” she paused; and the doctor smiled.

“They are good friends now,” he said, “since the gun
is unwitched; but here he is, ask him.”

Hunter John in fact entered at the moment.

“Where did your pretty ear-drops come from, pet?”
said he; “your servant, doctor.”

“From Mrs. Courtlandt, father.”

The hunter looked grave; then laughed.

“I begin to think my old superstitious head has been
making me think her too much of a witch,” he said. “I
used to see her oftentimes in Martinsburg, years back, and
she wasn't such a dreadful person. It's only since she
came to the mountains here, some four years ago, when
her school was broke up, I have felt afraid of her. Most
old people now are like me though—all were in the back
times.”

Then taking the jewels, and looking tenderly at his
daughter, he said to the doctor:

“And you brought these, I reckon; well, Mrs. Courtlandt
must have fallen in love with you; what do you
say? ha! ha!”

“Why, I don't know.”

“She's still handsome.”

“Yes.”

“And you're certain—come now, doctor—that she
hasn't taken a fancy to you?”

“Why, she received me with a kiss when I arrived,”
said the doctor gravely; “and now I come to remember
my friend, the care she takes of my wardrobe signifies
much. That should have opened my eyes.”

This speech threw the whole company into profound
astonishment. It is probable that such was the intention
of the speaker. Nina, however, said nothing; for “matters
had become very serious” between herself and the

doctor lately, it was said. Doctor Thomas was immediately
overwhelmed with questions; and for some minutes
was in despair. The storm at last settled down, and
he had an opportunity, all thought, of explaining himself.

Nina, above all, waited for this explanation; not that
she feared a rival in Mrs. Courtlandt, but it is one peculiarity
of that position in which this lady now stood toward
the doctor, that the mind does not weigh clearly
and decide rationally. Nina was therefore determined to
quarrel with her suitor.

The doctor gave her no opportunity, however, but
mentioning as a piece of pleasant and agreeable news that
his friend Mrs. Courtlandt was then preparing a new coat
and moccasins to attend the wedding, he took his departure.
Having cast this bombshell into the midst of
the company, he very rationally supposed that it would
form the topic of conversation—and thus he himself
escape “abuse;” and he was not mistaken.

No sooner had he disappeared, than the storm burst
forth with overwhelming power.

“That Mrs. Courtlandt!”

“No better than a witch!”

“She's handsome though.”

“You ought to be ashamed to say so—she handsome!
with that old cap on her head and that odious boy's
roundabout!” cried Nina.

Every one laughed.

“Nina is jealous of her,” said one; “the doctor is her
beau, you know, girls! and she can't bear Mrs. Courtlandt.”

“I think Mrs. Courtlandt is still very handsome,” said
another.

“And I think you very impudent,” said Nina, laughing,
“to say the doctor is my beau!”

“You know he is, Nina.”

“I don't care that for him,” snapping her fingers; “and

I'm sure,” she added pouting, “he don't value me more
than that himself.”

“Why only yesterday he told me that he had lost his
heart completely.”

Nina blushed, and turning away hid her confusion by
asking for “a piece of bobbin edge.”

“Bobbin edge on that!” cried one.

“Certainly,” said Nina.

“I never heard of such a thing! It won't suit!”

“I appeal to you, girls—”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“It will ruin it!”

“It will make it beautiful!”

And forgetting completely the affairs of Nina and the
doctor, these young ladies again plunged into the weighty
considerations of trimming, and assorting colors—at which
point we leave them with great pleasure.