University of Virginia Library

30. XXX.
Events of Importance Take Place.

Lord Burleigh.

ON a certain fine morning, not long after the
events last spoken of, there arrived at the
port of New York, per steamer, our young cousin,
Mr. Washington Fudge, accompanied by the so-called
Countess de Guerlin.

The two names were in close juxtaposition in the
paper which announced their arrival. This fact
excited not a little invidious remark. Mrs. Solomon
received her son in a rapturous manner: Wilhelmina
even was warmed for the time with a little
natural expression of feeling. My uncle Solomon

was calm, but extended a hearty welcome. I cannot
say that he was altogether satisfied with the
jaunty Parisian air of my cousin Wash, or that he
did not after bed-time, hint his misgivings to Phœbe,
and express a fear lest he might not show a good
aptitude for business. He more than suspected,
indeed, that he had no inclination that way.

My aunt Phœbe thought that he had; and what
was more, that he had shown it. And thereupon
she commented in her rapid manner upon the generous
and energetic way in which Washington had
seconded the undoubted claims of their new cousin,
the Countess.

“O Lord!” said Solomon.

My aunt Phœbe was indignant to find how little
pride Mr. Fudge was disposed to show in Washington;
and, in her indignation, she acquitted herself
of a little commission which she had undertaken on
the part of the son; which was, to break quietly
to the old gentleman the late difficulty, by which
the dear boy had been compelled to make a new and
considerable draft upon his father.

“Yes, he understands making drafts,” said Solomon.

“And large ones, too,” said Phœbe, tartly.

“How much is it now?” said Solomon.

“Four thousand dollars,” said Phœbe.

“Four thousand dollars!” said the old gentleman,
in amazement.

I think the old lady was softened by his anxious
tone. “Remember,” said she, “Soly, that it was a
matter of life and death with him.”

“Life and fiddlesticks,” said Solomon.

“For shame, Mr. Fudge!”

“For shame, Mrs. Fudge,” retorted Solomon,
angrily. “Have you not been encouraging the boy
in all sorts of foppery, recommending Parisian society,
till he comes back, good for nothing, with a
strange woman at his heels, on whose account he
has been drawing on me for a matter of five thousand
dollars! A devilish pretty society that is,
madame! I suppose it will be the same thing with
Miss Wilhe and her `society.' In my opinion, she
had much better be looking out for a sensible husband,
who can support her with his business, than
to be coquetting with your Spindles and Counts.”

“Shame on you, Mr. Fudge!” said Phœbe again.

“Yes, I know,” said Solomon, “and I'm a vulgar
man, and all that, I suppose; but let me tell you,
madame, if you mean to get any profit out of your
`position,' as you call it, you must do it soon; for
unless things take a turn within a month, you and I,
Phœbe, must—budge!”

“Budge, Solomon?”

“Budge! quit! give up the Avenue, and the
house, and the coach, and society!”

There was an earnestness in the old gentleman's
tone, which gave assurance of his truth; and I
think Mrs. Fudge was subdued into one of those
conjugal kisses which, at rare intervals in her life,
brought to mind the old and very brief days of
their sentiment.

But the hint of my uncle Solomon in regard to
the improvement of her present “position” was not
lost upon Mrs. Fudge. She took an early occasion
of calling upon the Countess de Guerlin. She found
her, as might have been expected, a brilliant and
most engaging woman. In consort with Wilhelmina,
she compared her with Mrs. Pinkerton and
Mrs. Spindle, who both lost sensibly by the contrast.

These ladies, on the other hand, getting wind
of the arrival of the Countess, regretted that she
should have fallen into the hands of “so very vulgar
people,” and should carry away such “very
false impressions of American society.”

The same remarks are usual with respect to every
foreigner of title of whom I ever had the honor to
hear. There never was one, I think, who, in the
opinion of all, saw the “very cream” of society.
My own opinion is, however, that the cream of
American society is mostly milk; by which I mean

that what there is good in it is pretty evenly distributed
throughout the mass, and is quite as apt to
be found floating midway, as in the froth that
swims at the top.

The Countess, notwithstanding the hands she was
in, was sought after. Mrs. Fudge and Wilhelmina
were sought after at the same time. Mrs. Fudge,
of course, determined upon giving her a grand
party. Uncle Solomon protested, insisting that
there might be some flaw in the woman's character;
he did think it looked oddly to take such a trip,
even in the company of his son. Madame Fudge
insisted (for Washington had informed her) that it
was the French way.

“Then all I have to say is, madame,” said Solomon,
tartly, “it's a d—d odd way!”

Washington figured grandly at the party; he
introduced a new dance with variations, which he
had learned at the Ranelagh. The Pinkertons
were present, and were affable with the Countess;
they even encouraged Washington to converse with
them. Jemima was invited, as being a good French
scholar; and she subsequently arranged a conversazione
for the Countess, at her mother's small house.
The Countess was not proud, and appeared amiable
at the conversazione, to the great delight of Bridget
and of the old lady, her mother.

Mrs. Fudge had not forgotten the cruel hint of
Solomon, about the improvement of their present
position. She had held a private conversation with
Wilhelmina on the subject, in the course of which
she had made known the embarrassed position of
her father's affairs; she had urged that young lady
to make hay while the sun was shining—in other
words, to carry young Spindle, if it were possible,
by a coup de main.

Wilhelmina devoted herself for the greater part
of the evening to the execution of this task; she
made extraordinary conversational ventures; but,
failing in the end, revenged herself by a spirited
flirtation with the Count Salle, who was there, brilliant
as ever; and—it was remarked afterwards—
particularly coy of advances towards the Countess.
He met the approaches of Wilhelmina with unusual
readiness and spirit. Serious people may even have
observed certain improprieties in her conduct. It
was to be remembered, however, that the Count was
a very old friend—very.

It must have been about ten o'clock on the following
day that Mr. Solomon Fudge and his wife
sat at breakfast over a broiled chicken, in the basement-room
of their Avenue house. Neither son nor
daughter had as yet appeared. Late breakfast
hours were genteel, and Mrs. Fudge rather liked

late hours. The old people were consulting, in a
sulky humor, upon the events of yesterday, when
the maid suddenly came in and announced, in a
frightened way, that Miss Wilhelmina was not in
her room, and had not slept in her bed, and was
nowhere to be found.

Mrs. Fudge, with an exclamation of wonder,
looked over towards her husband; and the old gentleman
growing pale, looked gloomily back into the
face of his wife. There was not much in the countenance
of either to give consolation, or to clear up
the mystery.

The family was alarmed, and the house searched
throughout. Not the slightest trace could be found
of the missing young lady. Circumstances, however,
seemed to point to the Count Salle as a party
to this family bereavement. Some of the servants
had seen her whispering to the Count at a very
late hour; one even had observed her in his company
upon the porch of the street door.

Young Wash, made heroic by his recent Paris
experience, swore that he would shoot the Count,
and ordered a Colt's pistol to be bought for that
purpose. He however yielded to the hysterical
entreaties of Mrs. Fudge, and countermanded the
order.

My uncle Solomon wore an air of more calmness

than might have been expected; he seemed to
regard the matter as a judgment upon Phœbe. I
think he may have hinted as much; whereupon
Mrs. Fudge renewed her hysterics to such a degree
that the family physician was called in.

For my own part, I think it was an event—I
speak of the elopement—that might have been
looked for. I think the progress of her education
had encouraged a hope of some such brilliant denoument.
I think it was only the dashing way in which
my cousin Wilhelmina undertook to illustrate her
advance upon elegant life.

And should it appear that the Count has given
the affair a creditable tone, by a recognition of the
marriage ceremony, I am by no means prepared to
say that the event would be a disagreeable one to
my aunt Phœbe.

Indeed, I think quite the contrary.