University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.
FALLING IN LOVE.

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 001. In-line Illustration. Image of a girl in a pretty dress. She is carrying a parasol and her long hair is loose and wavy.]

“WHO is that beautiful creature?” said John
Seymour, as a light, sylph-like form tripped

up the steps of the veranda of the hotel where he was
lounging away his summer vacation.

“That! Why, don't you know, man? That is the
celebrated, the divine Lillie Ellis, the most adroit `fisher
of men' that has been seen in our days.”

“By George, but she 's pretty, though!” said John,
following with enchanted eyes the distant motions of
the sylphide.

The vision that he saw was of a delicate little fairy
form; a complexion of pearly white, with a cheek of
the hue of a pink shell; a fair, sweet, infantine face surrounded
by a fleecy radiance of soft golden hair. The
vision appeared to float in some white gauzy robes;
and, when she spoke or smiled, what an innocent, fresh,
untouched, unspoiled look there was upon the face!
John gazed, and thought of all sorts of poetical similes:
of a “daisy just wet with morning dew;” of a “violet
by a mossy stone;” in short, of all the things that poets
have made and provided for the use of young gentlemen
in the way of falling in love.

This John Seymour was about as good and honest a
man as there is going in this world of ours. He was
a generous, just, manly, religious young fellow. He
was heir to a large, solid property; he was a well-read
lawyer, established in a flourishing business; he was a
man that all the world spoke well of, and had cause to
speak well of. The only duty to society which John
had left as yet unperformed was that of matrimony.
Three and thirty years had passed; and, with every
advantage for supporting a wife, with a charming home

all ready for a mistress, John, as yet, had not proposed
to be the defender and provider for any of the more
helpless portion of creation. The cause of this was, in
the first place, that John was very happy in the society
of a sister, a little older than himself, who managed his
house admirably, and was a charming companion to his
leisure hours; and, in the second place, that he had a
secret, bashful self-depreciation in regard to his power
of pleasing women, which made him ill at ease in their
society. Not that he did not mean to marry. He
certainly did. But the fair being that he was to marry
was a distant ideal, a certain undefined and cloudlike
creature; and, up to this time, he had been waiting to
meet her, without taking any definite steps towards
that end. To say the truth, John Seymour, like many
other outwardly solid, sober-minded, respectable citizens,
had deep within himself a little private bit of romance.
He could not utter it, he never talked it; he would
have blushed and stammered and stuttered wofully,
and made a very poor figure, in trying to tell any one
about it; but nevertheless it was there, a secluded
chamber of imagery, and the future Mrs. John Seymour
formed its principal ornament.

The wife that John had imaged, his dream-wife, was
not at all like his sister; though he loved his sister
heartily, and thought her one of the best and noblest
women that could possibly be.

But his sister was all plain prose, — good, strong,
earnest, respectable prose, it is true, but yet prose. He
could read English history with her, talk accounts and

business with her, discuss politics with her, and valued
her opinions on all these topics as much as that of any
man of his acquaintance. But, with the visionary Mrs.
John Seymour aforesaid, he never seemed to himself to
be either reading history or settling accounts, or talking
politics; he was off with her in some sort of enchanted
cloudland of happiness, where she was all to
him, and he to her, — a sort of rapture of protective love
on one side, and of confiding devotion on the other,
quite inexpressible, and that John would not have
talked of for the world.

So when he saw this distant vision of airy gauzes, of
pearly whiteness, of sea-shell pink, of infantine smiles,
and waving, golden curls, he stood up with a shy desire
to approach the wonderful creature, and yet with a
sort of embarrassed feeling of being very awkward and
clumsy. He felt, somehow, as if he were a great, coarse
behemoth; his arms seemed to him awkward appendages;
his hands suddenly appeared to him rough, and
his fingers swelled and stumpy. When he thought of
asking an introduction, he felt himself growing very
hot, and blushing to the roots of his hair.

“Want to be introduced to her, Seymour?” said
Carryl Ethridge. “I 'll trot you up. I know her.”

“No, thank you,” said John, stiffly. In his heart, he
felt an absurd anger at Carryl for the easy, assured
way in which he spoke of the sacred creature who
seemed to him something too divine to be lightly
talked of. And then he saw Carryl marching up to
her with his air of easy assurance. He saw the bewitching

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 005. In-line Illustration. Image of a man, who is holding a fan, talking to a woman who is holding a closed parasol. The caption reads, "I didn't know he was such a puppy."] smile come over that fair, flowery face; he
saw Carryl, with unabashed familiarity, take her fan
out of her hand, look at it as if it were a mere
common, earthly fan, toss it about, and pretend to fan
himself with it.

“I didn't know he was such a puppy!” said John to
himself, as he stood in a sort of angry bashfulness,
envying the man that was so familiar with that loveliness.

Ah! John, John! You wouldn't, for the world,
have told to man or woman what a fool you were at
that moment.

“What a fool I am!” was his mental commentary:
“just as if it was any thing to me.” And he turned,
and walked to the other end of the veranda.

“I think you 've hooked another fish, Lillie,” said
Belle Trevors in the ear of the little divinity.

“Who...?”

“Why! that Seymour there, at the end of the veranda.
He is looking at you, do you know? He is
rich, very rich, and of an old family. Didn't you see
how he started and looked after you when you came up
on the veranda?”

“Oh! I saw plain enough,” said the divinity, with
one of her unconscious, baby-like smiles.

“What are you ladies talking?” said Carryl Ethridge.

“Oh, secrets!” said Belle Trevors. “You are very
presuming, sir, to inquire.”

“Mr. Ethridge,” said Lillie Ellis, “don't you think it
would be nice to promenade?”

This was said with such a pretty coolness, such a
quiet composure, as showed Miss Lillie to be quite mistress
of the situation; there was, of course, no sort of
design in it.

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 007. In-line Illustration. Image of a man introducing his male friend to a young woman. The man is bowing and tipping his had and the woman is curtseying. The caption reads, "Let me present my friend, Mr. Seymour."]

Ethridge offered his arm at once; and the two sauntered
to the end of the veranda, where John Seymour
was standing.

The blood rushed in hot currents over him, and he
could hear the beating of his heart: he felt somehow as
if the hour of his fate was coming. He had a wild
desire to retreat, and put it off. He looked over the
end of the veranda, with some vague idea of leaping it;
but alas! it was ten feet above ground, and a lover's leap
would have only ticketed him as out of his head. There
was nothing for it but to meet his destiny like a man.

Carryl came up with the lady on his arm; and as he
stood there for a moment, in the coolest, most indifferent
tone in the world, said, “Oh! by the by, Miss Ellis, let
me present my friend Mr. Seymour.”

The die was cast.

John's face burned like fire: he muttered something
about “being happy to make Miss Ellis's acquaintance,”
looking all the time as if he would be glad to jump
over the railing, or take wings and fly, to get rid of
the happiness.

Miss Ellis was a belle by profession, and she understood
her business perfectly. In nothing did she show
herself master of her craft, more than in the adroitness
with which she could soothe the bashful pangs of new
votaries, and place them on an easy footing with her.

“Mr. Seymour,” she said affably, “to tell the truth, I
have been desirous of the honor of your acquaintance,
ever since I saw you in the breakfast-room this morning.”

“I am sure I am very much flattered,” said John, his
heart beating thick and fast. “May I ask why you
honor me with such a wish?”

“Well, to tell the truth, because you strikingly resemble
a very dear friend of mine,” said Miss Ellis, with
her sweet, unconscious simplicity of manner.

“I am still more flattered,” said John, with a quicker
beating of the heart; “only I fear that you may find me
an unpleasant contrast.”

“Oh! I think not,” said Lillie, with another smile:
“we shall soon be good friends, too, I trust.”

“I trust so certainly,” said John, earnestly.

Belle Trevors now joined the party; and the four
were soon chatting together on the best footing of
acquaintance. John was delighted to feel himself
already on easy terms with the fair vision.

“You have not been here long?” said Lillie to John.

“No, I have only just arrived.”

“And you were never here before?”

“No, Miss Ellis, I am entirely new to the place.”

“I am an old habituée here,” said Lillie, “and can
recommend myself as authority on all points connected
with it.”

“Then,” said John, “I hope you will take me under
your tuition.”

“Certainly, free of charge,” she said, with another
ravishing smile.

“You haven't seen the boiling spring yet?” she
added.

“No, I haven't seen any thing yet.”

“Well, then, if you 'll give me your arm across the
lawn, I 'll show it to you.”

All of this was done in the easiest, most matter-of-course
manner in the world; and off they started, John
in a flutter of flattered delight at the gracious acceptance
accorded to him.

Ethridge and Belle Trevors looked after them with a
nod of intelligence at each other.

“Hooked, by George!” said Ethridge.

“Well, it 'll be a good thing for Lillie, won't it?”

“For her? Oh, yes, a capital thing for her!”

“Well, for him too.”

“Well, I don't know. John is a pretty nice fellow;
a very nice fellow, besides being rich, and all that; and
Lillie is somewhat shop-worn by this time. Let me
see: she must be seven and twenty.”

“Oh, yes, she 's all that!” said Belle, with ingenuous
ardor. “Why, she was in society while I was a school-girl!
Yes, dear Lillie is certainly twenty-seven, if not
more; but she keeps her freshness wonderfully.”

“Well, she looks fresh enough, I suppose, to a good,
honest, artless fellow like John Seymour, who knows as
little of the world as a milkmaid. John is a great, innocent,
country steer, fed on clover and dew; and as honest
and ignorant of all sorts of naughty, wicked things as
his mother or sister. He takes Lillie in a sacred simplicity
quite refreshing; but to me Lillie is played out. I
know her like a book. I know all her smiles and wiles,
advices and devices; and her system of tactics is an old
story with me. I shan't interrupt any of her little
games. Let her have her little field all to herself: it 's
time she was married, to be sure.”

Meanwhile, John was being charmingly ciceroned by
Lillie, and scarcely knew whether he was in the body or
out. All that he felt, and felt with a sort of wonder,
was that he seemed to be acceptable and pleasing in the
eyes of this little fairy, and that she was leading him
into wonderland.

They went not only to the boiling spring, but up and
down so many wild, woodland paths that had been cut
for the adornment of the Carmel Springs, and so well
pleased were both parties, that it was supper-time before
they reappeared on the lawn; and, when they did
appear, Lillie was leaning confidentially on John's arm,
with a wreath of woodbine in her hair that he had
arranged there, wondering all the while at his own

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 011. In-line Illustration. Image of a couple walking arm-in-arm and looking at each other. The caption reads, "Lillie was leaning confidentally on John's arm."] wonderful boldness, and at the grace of the fair entertainer.

The returning couple were seen from the windows
of Mrs. Chit, who sat on the lookout for useful information;
and who forthwith ran to the apartments of
Mrs. Chat, and told her to look out at them.

Billy This, who was smoking his cigar on the veranda,
immediately ran and called Harry That to look at
them, and laid a bet at once that Lillie had “hooked”
Seymour.

“She 'll have him, by George, she will!”

“Oh, pshaw! she is always hooking fellows, but you
see she don't get married,” said matter-of-fact Harry.

“It won't come to any thing, now, I 'll bet. Everybody
said she was engaged to Danforth, but it all ended
in smoke.”

Whether it would be an engagement, or would all
end in smoke, was the talk of Carmel Springs for the
next two weeks.

At the end of that time, the mind of Carmel Springs
was relieved by the announcement that it was an
engagement.

The important deciding announcement was first
authentically made by Lillie to Belle Trevors, who had
been invited into her room that night for the purpose.

“Well, Belle, it 's all over. He spoke out to-night.”

“He offered himself?”

“Certainly.”

“And you took him?”

“Of course I did: I should be a fool not to.”

“Oh, so I think, decidedly!” said Belle, kissing her
friend in a rapture. “You dear creature! how nice!
it 's splendid!”

Lillie took the embrace with her usual sweet composure,
and turned to her looking-glass, and began taking
down her hair for the night. It will be perceived
that this young lady was not overcome with emotion,
but in a perfectly collected state of mind.

“He 's a little bald, and getting rather stout,” she
said reflectively, “but he 'll do.”

“I never saw a creature so dead in love as he is,”
said Belle.

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 013. In-line Illustration. Image of a blond young woman brushing her hair while a brunette young woman stands behind her. The caption reads, "I think he's nice myself."]

A quiet smile passed over the soft, peach-blow cheeks
as Lillie answered, —

“Oh, dear, yes! He perfectly worships the ground
I tread on.”

“Lil, you fortunate creature, you! Positively it 's
the best match that there has been about here this summer.
He 's rich, of an old, respectable family; and then
he has good principles, you know, and all that,” said
Belle.

“I think he 's nice myself,” said Lillie, as she stood
brushing out a golden tangle of curls. “Dear me!”
she added, “how
much better he is
than that Danforth!
Really,
Danforth was a
little too horrid:
his teeth were
dreadful. Do you
know, I should
have had something
of a struggle
to take him,
though he was so
terribly rich?
Then Danforth had been horridly dissipated, — you
don't know, — Maria Sanford told me such shocking
things about him, and she knows they are true. Now,
I don't think John has ever been dissipated.”

“Oh, no!” said Belle. “I heard all about him. He

joined the church when he was only twenty, and has
been always spoken of as a perfect model. I only think
you may find it a little slow, living in Springdale. He
has a fine, large, old-fashioned house there, and his sister
is a very nice woman; but they are a sort of respectable,
retired set, — never go into fashionable company.”

“Oh, I don't mind it!” said Lillie. “I shall have
things my own way, I know. One isn't obliged to live
in Springdale, nor with pokey old sisters, you know;
and John will do just as I say, and live where I
please.”

She said this with her simple, soft air of perfect assurance,
twisting her shower of bright, golden curls;
with her gentle, childlike face, and soft, beseeching,
blue eyes, and dimpling little mouth, looking back on
her, out of the mirror. By these the little queen had
always ruled from her cradle, and should she not rule
now? Was it any wonder that John was half out of
his wits with joy at thought of possessing her? Simply
and honestly, she thought not. He was to be
congratulated; though it wasn't a bad thing for her,
either.

“Belle,” said Lillie, after an interval of reflection,
“I won't be married in white satin, — that I 'm resolved
on. Now,” she said, facing round with increasing earnestness,
“there have been five weddings in our set,
and all the girls have been married in just the same
dress, — white satin and point lace, white satin and
point lace, over and over, till I 'm tired of it. I'm
determined I 'll have something new.”

“Well, I would, I 'm sure,” said Belle. “Say white
tulle, for instance: you know you are so petite and fairy-like.”

“No: I shall write out to Madame La Roche, and
tell her she must get up something wholly original. I
shall send for my whole trousseau. Papa will be glad
enough to come down, since he gets me off his hands,
and no more fuss about bills, you know. Do you know,
Belle, that creature is just wild about me: he 'd like to
ransack all the jewellers' shops in New York for me.
He 's going up to-morrow, just to choose the engagement
ring. He says he can't trust to an order; that he
must go and choose one worthy of me.”

“Oh! it 's plain enough that that game is all in your
hands, as to him, Lillie; but, Lil, what will your Cousin
Harry say to all this?”

“Well, of course he won't like it; but I can't help it
if he don't. Harry ought to know that it 's all nonsense
for him and me to think of marrying. He does
know it.”

“To tell the truth, I always thought, Lil, you were
more in love with Harry than anybody you ever knew.”

Lillie laughed a little, and then the prettiest sweet-pea
flush deepened the pink of her cheeks.

“To say the truth, Belle, I could have been, if he
had been in circumstances to marry. But, you see, I
am one of those to whom the luxuries are essential. I
never could rub and scrub and work; in fact, I had
rather not live at all than live poor; and Harry is poor,
and he always will be poor. It 's a pity, too, poor fellow,

for he 's nice. Well, he is off in India! I know
he will be tragical and gloomy, and all that,” she said;
and then the soft child-face smiled to itself in the
glass, — such a pretty little innocent smile!

All this while, John sat up with his heart beating
very fast, writing all about his engagement to his
sister, and, up to this point, his nearest, dearest, most
confidential friend. It is almost too bad to copy the
letter of a shy man who finds himself in love for the
first time in his life; but we venture to make an extract:
—

Whether the charming vision was realized; whether
the little sovereign now enthroned will be a just and
clement one; what immunities and privileges she will
allow to her slaves, — is yet to be seen in this story.