Pink and white tyranny :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Oh, pshaw, John! I am as happy as I ought to be,
I dare say; there isn't much the matter with me, only
a little blue, and I don't feel quite strong.”

“You don't feel strong! I 've noticed it, Lillie.”

“Well, you see, John, the fact is, that I never have
got through this month without going to the sea-side.
Mamma always took me. The doctors told her that
my constitution was such that I couldn't get along
without it; but I dare say I shall do well enough in
time, you know.”

“But, Lillie,” said John, “if you do need sea-air,
you must go. I can't leave my business; that 's the
trouble.”

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“Oh, no, John! don't think of it. I ought to make
an effort to get along. You see, it 's very foolish in me,
but places affect my spirits so. It 's perfectly absurd
how I am affected.”

“Well, Lillie, I hope this place doesn't affect you
unpleasantly,” said John.

“It 's a nice, darling place, John, and it 's very silly in
me; but it is a fact that this house somehow has a depressing
effect on my spirits. You know it 's not like
the houses I 've been used to. It has a sort of old look;
and I can't help feeling that it puts me in mind of those
who are dead and gone; and then I think I shall be dead
and gone too, some day, and it makes me cry so. Isn't
it silly of me, John?”

“Poor little pussy!” said John.

“You see, John, our rooms are lovely; but they
are n't modern and cheerful, like those I 've been accustomed
to. They make me feel pensive and sad all the
time; but I 'm trying to get over it.”

“Why, Lillie!” said John, “would you like the rooms
refurnished? It can easily be done if you wish it.”

“Oh, no, no, dear! You are too good; and I 'm sure
the rooms are lovely, and it would hurt Gracie's feelings
to change them. No: I must try and get over it.
I know just how silly it is, and I shall try to overcome
it. If I had only more strength, I believe I could.”

“Well, darling, you must go to the sea-side. I shall
have you sent right off to Newport. Gracie can go
with you.”

“Oh, no, John! not for the world. Gracie must stay,

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and keep house for you. She 's such a help to you,
that it would be a shame to take her away. But I
think mamma would go with me, — if you could take me
there, and engage my rooms and all that, why, mamma
could stay with me, you know. To be sure, it would
be a trial not to have you there; but then if I could
get up my strength, you know,” —

“Exactly, certainly; and, Lillie, how would you like
the parlors arranged if you had your own way?”

“Oh, John! don't think of it.”

“But I just want to know for curiosity. Now, how
would you have them if you could?”

“Well, then, John, don't you think it would be
lovely to have them frescoed? Did you ever see the
Folingsbees' rooms in New York? They were so
lovely! — one was all in blue, and the other in crimson,
opening into each other; with carved furniture, and
those marquetrie tables, and all sorts of little French
things. They had such a gay and cheerful look.”

“Now, Lillie, if you want our rooms like that, you
shall have them.”

“O John, you are too good! I couldn't ask such
a sacrifice.”

“Oh, pshaw! it isn't a sacrifice. I don't doubt I
shall like them better myself. Your taste is perfect,
Lillie; and, now I think of it, I wonder that I thought
of bringing you here without consulting you in every
particular. A woman ought to be queen in her own
house, I am sure.”

“But, Gracie! Now, John, I know she has associations

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with all the things in this house, and it would
be cruel to her,” said Lillie, with a sigh.

“Pshaw! Gracie is a good, sensible girl, and ready
to make any rational change. I suppose we have been
living rather behind the times, and are somewhat rusty,
that 's a fact; but Gracie will enjoy new things as
much as anybody, I dare say.”

“Well, John, since you are set on it, there 's Charlie
Ferrola, one of my particular friends; he 's an architect,
and does all about arranging rooms and houses
and furniture. He did the Folingsbees', and the Hortons',
and the Jeromes', and no end of real nobby
people's houses; and made them perfectly lovely. People
say that one wouldn't know that they weren't in
Paris, in houses that he does.”

Now, our John was by nature a good solid chip of
the old Anglo-Saxon block; and, if there was any thing
that he had no special affinity for, it was for French
things. He had small opinion of French morals, and
French ways in general; but then at this moment he
saw his Lillie, whom, but half an hour before, he found
all pale and tear-drenched, now radiant and joyous,
sleek as a humming-bird, with the light in her eyes, and
the rattle on the tip of her tongue; and he felt so
delighted to see her bright and gay and joyous, that he
would have turned his house into the Jardin Mabille, if
that were possible.

Lillie had the prettiest little caressing tricks and
graces imaginable; and she perched herself on his
knee, and laughed and chatted so gayly, and pulled his

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[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 706EAF. Page 108. In-line Illustration. Image of a girl sitting in a man's lap with one are around his neck and the other hand on his cheek. The caption reads, "She perched herself in his knee."] whiskers so saucily, and then, springing up, began arraying
herself in such an astonishing daintiness of device,
and fluttering before him with such a variety of well-assorted
plumage, that John was quite taken off his feet.
He did not care so much whether what she willed to
do were, “Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best,” as feel
that what she wished to do must be done at any rate.

“Why, darling!” he said in his rapture; “why
didn't you tell me all this before? Here you have
been growing sad and blue, and losing your vivacity
and spirits, and never told me why!”

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“I thought it was my duty, John, to try to bear it,”
said Lillie, with the sweet look of a virgin saint. “I
thought perhaps I should get used to things in time;
and I think it is a wife's duty to accommodate herself
to her husband's circumstances.”

“No, it 's a husband's duty to accommodate himself
to his wife's wishes,” said John. “What 's that
fellow's address? I 'll write to him about doing our
house, forthwith.”

“But, John, do pray tell Gracie that it 's your wish.
I don't want her to think that it 's I that am doing
this. Now, pray do think whether you really want it
yourself. You see it must be so natural for you to like
the old things! They must have associations, and
I wouldn't for the world, now, be the one to change
them; and, after all, how silly it was of me to feel
blue!”

“Don't say any more, Lillie. Let me see, — next
week,” he said, taking out his pocket-book, and looking
over his memoranda, — “next week I 'll take you down
to Newport; and you write to-day to your mother to
meet you there, and be your guest. I 'll write and
engage the rooms at once.”

“I don't know what I shall do without you, John.”

“Oh, well, I couldn't stay possibly! But I may run
down now and then, for a night, you know.”

“Well, we must make that do,” said Lillie, with
a pensive sigh.

Thus two very important moves on Miss Lillie's
checker-board of life were skilfully made. The house

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was to be refitted, and the Newport precedent established.

Now, dear friends, don't think Lillie a pirate, or a
conspirator, or a wolf-in-sheep's-clothing, or any thing
else but what she was, — a pretty little, selfish woman;
undeveloped in her conscience and affections, and strong
in her instincts and perceptions; in a blind way using
what means were most in her line to carry her purposes.
Lillie had always found her prettiness, her littleness,
her helplessness, and her tears so very useful in carrying
her points in life that she resorted to them as
her lawful stock in trade. Neither were her blues
entirely shamming. There comes a time after marriage,
when a husband, if he be any thing of a man,
has something else to do than make direct love to
his wife. He cannot be on duty at all hours to fan her,
and shawl her, and admire her. His love must express
itself through other channels. He must be a full man
for her sake; and, as a man, must go forth to a whole
world of interests that takes him from her. Now
what in this case shall a woman do, whose only life lies
in petting and adoration and display?

Springdale had no beau monde, no fashionable circle,
no Bois de Boulogne, and no beaux, to make amends
for a husband's engrossments. Grace was sisterly and
kind; but what on earth had they in common to
talk about? Lillie's wardrobe was in all the freshness
of bridal exuberance, and there was nothing more to be
got, and so, for the moment, no stimulus in this line.
But then where to wear all these fine French dresses?

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Lillie had been called on, and invited once to little
social evening parties, through the whole round of
old, respectable families that lived under the elm-arches
of Springdale; and she had found it rather stupid.
There was not a man to make an admirer of, except the
young minister, who, after the first afternoon of seeing
her, returned to his devotion to Rose Ferguson.

You know, ladies, Æsop has a pretty little fable as
follows: A young man fell desperately in love with
a cat, and prayed to Jupiter to change her to a woman
for his sake. Jupiter was so obliging as to grant his
prayer; and, behold, a soft, satin-skinned, purring,
graceful woman was given into his arms.

But the legend goes on to say that, while he was
delighting in her charms, she heard the sound of mice
behind the wainscot, and left him forthwith to rush
after her congenial prey.

Lillie had heard afar the sound of mice at Newport,
and she longed to be after them once more. Had
she not a prestige now as a rich young married lady?
Had she not jewels and gems to show? Had she
not any number of mouse-traps, in the way of ravishing
toilets? She thought it all over, till she was sick
with longing, and was sure that nothing but the sea-air
could do her any good; and so she fell to crying, and
kissing her faithful John, till she gained her end, like a
veritable little cat as she was.