Book: Elinor Wyllys

S >> Susan Fenimore Cooper >> Elinor Wyllys




Any one, indifferent to dancing or speculation, seeking amusement
as a looker-on, would have been struck, at Uncle Josie's
house-warming, with the generally feminine and pleasing
appearance of the women; there were few faces, indeed, that could
be called positively ugly. Then, again, one remarked, that
puerile as the general tone might be, mixed as the company was,
there were no traces whatever of coarseness, none of that bold
vulgarity which is so revolting.

There was a certain proportion of elderly men collected on the
occasion--they were seen, with a few exceptions, standing in
knots, talking great speculations and little politics, and
looking rather anxious for supper, and the boned turkey. Of the
mothers and chaperons, who filled the sofas, as representatives
of a half-forgotten custom, some were watching the flirtations,
others looking on and enjoying the gaiety of the young people.
Both fathers and mothers, however, were very decidedly in the
minority, and, according to American principles, they allowed the
majority undisputed sway. The young people, in general, held
little communication with their elders, and amused themselves
after their own fashion; the young ladies' bouquets afforded a
favourite subject for small-talk; they were all carefully
analysed--not botanically, but according to the last edition of
that elegant work, the Language of Flowers, which afforded, of
course, a wide field for the exercise of gallantry and
flirtation.

{Probably, Frederic Shoberl (1775-1853), "The Language of
Flowers," (numerous editions, some published by the Cooper
family's regular publisher in Philadelphia)--but there were many
similar books on the "poetic meaning" of different flowers}

Among the dancers, the four young ladies we have pointed out were
acknowledged the most conspicuous. According to Mrs. Tibbs and
Mrs. Bibbs, Jane's was the most beautiful face in the room,
although there were two or three competitors for the title;
Adeline was pronounced the most successful of the rival belles;
Mrs. Hilson the most elegant and airy; Elinor the plainest of the
gay troop. Probably, most of those who thought about the matter,
would have decided as the Longbridge ladies did--although, on the
point of Mrs. Hilson's elegance, many would have protested. There
was one person, at least, who followed Elinor's graceful figure
with partial interest; Miss Agnes found so much that was pleasing
to her, in the fresh, youthful appearance of her adopted
child--in the simple good-taste of her white dress--in the
intelligence and character of her expression--in her engaging
manner, that she forgot to regret her want of beauty; she no
longer wondered, as she had sometimes done, that Harry should so
early have appreciated her niece. Those who knew Elinor
thoroughly, loved her for the excellence of her character;
strangers neglected her for any pretty face at her side; but
every one thrown in her society, must have acknowledged the charm
of her manner. This pleasing manner, however, so frank, yet so
feminine, so simple, yet so graceful, was only the natural result
of her character, and her very want of beauty. She was never
troubled by the fluttering hopes and fears of vanity; she never
seemed to think of effect; when in society, her attention was
always given in the simplest and most amiable way to others.
Forgetful of self, she was a stranger to every forward
affectation, to every awkwardness of mauvaise honte; her good
sense, her gaiety, a sweet disposition, and an active mind were
allowed full play, under no other restraints than those of a good
education; those of principle, and those of youthful, womanly
modesty. Such was Elinor in the eyes of her aunt, but it must not
be supposed that this was the general opinion of Uncle Josie's
guests; by no means; many remarks were made upon Miss Wyllys's
being so decidedly plain; and even her dancing was thought
inferior by some of the company to the more laboured graces of
Mrs. Hilson, or the downright indifference of Adeline: as for
Jane, she unfortunately never danced in time.

{"mauvaise honte" = bashfulness, false shame (French)}

At the proper moment supper was announced--the boned turkey
appeared in full glory. "What is that?"--"Boned turkey"--"Shall I
give you boned turkey?" "I'll thank you for a little boned
turkey"--were sounds heard in every direction. It was very
evident the boned turkey was fully appreciated, and gave great
satisfaction--thus putting the finishing touch to the pleasures
of Uncle Josie's house-warming. We must not forget to mention the
mottoes, which were handed about in silver baskets, for, as
usual, they caused many tender and witty speeches. This was a
part of the entertainment in which Adeline delighted; Jane seemed
quite satisfied with it, and Mrs. Hilson was in her element among
these little bits of pink paper and sentiment.

Before the supper was more than half over, however, the rattling
of spoons and plates, the requests for "boned turkey," and the
flirting over mottoes were suddenly interrupted, and everything
hushed for a moment, by calls for a doctor! "Where is Dr. Van
Horne?" "Have you seen Dr. A?" "There is Dr. B."

"Alonzo, the fainting-room; remember," said Mrs. Hilson.

But it proved to be none of the company who required a physician.
A stranger, a sailor, some one said, who had been for the last
week at a low tavern opposite, had been seized with a fit; Dr.
Van Horne was soon found, and hastened to the relief of the sick
man. The interruption was soon forgotten; the mottoes and boned
turkey were again in demand. Dr. Van Horne did not return,
however; his family went home without him; and Mrs. Clapp, on
looking around for her husband, found that he also had
disappeared.

"I saw Clapp going into the tavern last evening," observed Uncle
Josie. "Perhaps this poor fellow is some client of his; he may
have gone to look after him."

Mrs. Clapp was obliged to ask Uncle Dozie to accompany her home;
and as he was no somnambulist, with all his napping, he carried
his niece safely to her own door.

Miss Wyllys was one of those who left the house immediately after
supper. Adeline and Jane ran up stairs before Elinor and
herself--like the Siamese twins, each with an arm encircling the
other's waist. The close intimacy between Jane and Adeline
continued to surprise Elinor. She began to think there must be
something more than common, something of the importance of a
mystery which drew them so often together, causing so many
confidential meetings. Even when the two girls were in society,
she could not but observe that Adeline often made some allusion,
or whispered some remark that seemed both pleasing and
embarrassing to Jane. Miss Taylor was evidently playing
confidante, and occasionally Jane appeared to wish her less open
and persevering in the affair. As for Mrs. Graham, she was too
much occupied with the care of her younger children to pay much
attention to her daughter's intimacies. She rather disliked
Adeline and all her family, and Mr. Graham had a real antipathy
for Mr. Taylor; still Jane was allowed to do as other young girls
about her, select whom she pleased for her associates. Mrs.
Graham was one of those mothers who devote themselves with great
assiduity to the care of their childrens' {sic} bodies, their
food and raiment, pains and aches--leaving all anxiety for their
minds to the school-mistress, and their characters to themselves.
With the eldest daughter this plan had succeeded very well;
Louisa Graham was clever and well-disposed, and had taken of her
own accord what is called a good turn; and Mr. Robert Hazlehurst
had every reason to congratulate himself upon his choice of a
wife. Mrs. Graham seemed to take it as a matter of course that
the same system would succeed equally well with all her family.
But Jane's disposition was very different from her sister
Louisa's; she had no strength of character, and was easily led by
those about her. The greatest fault in her disposition was
thought by her family to be indolence; but Miss Wyllys sometimes
wished that she had less selfishness, and more frankness.

{"Siamese twins" = Chang and Eng (1811-1874), born joined
together in Thailand (Siam), of Chinese parents, who were
exhibited in America for many years by P.T. Barnum; the condition
was named after them}

Elinor was not a little startled at something which passed in
Miss Hubbard's dressing-room, between Jane and Miss Taylor, and
which she accidentally overheard, before she was aware the
conversation was confidential.

"Don't pretend any longer, Jane, that you didn't know it,"
whispered Adeline, as they were stooping together over a bundle
of hoods and shawls. Jane made no answer. "Now, confess that you
knew he was serious before you left Paris."

"I did not think much of it for some time," said Jane.

"Well, I supposed from your letters that you knew long ago that
he was desperately in love with you. Trust me, we'll settle it
all between us."

"Oh, hush," said Jane, "there is somebody coming--I know it's
wrong--"

"Nonsense--wrong indeed! I should like to know where is the great
harm if he does break his engagement?"

Elinor moved away when she found the conversation was meant to be
private. But she had unintentionally heard enough to make her
anxious for Jane. "Was not Adeline leading her into difficulty?"
She felt uneasy, and thought of nothing else during her drive
home. It would not do to consult Miss Wyllys; but she determined
to speak to Jane herself, the first time she saw her.
Unfortunately, her cousin was going to New York, and nothing
could be done until she returned to pass a fortnight at
Wyllys-Roof before going to town for the winter.



CHAPTER XV.

-------------------------"the reward
Is in the race we run, not in the prize."
ROGERS.

{Samuel Rogers (English poet, 1763-1855), "Italy: A Character"
lines 39-40}

MISS PATSEY had never, in her life, been to a regular ball,
before this house-warming of Uncle Josie's; but not even the
novelty of a ball could keep her in bed an hour later than usual.
Charlie and herself had returned home some time after midnight,
with the Wyllyses; but the next morning she rose with the
chickens, and before the October sun, to pursue, as usual, her
daily labours. It was truly surprising how much Patsey Hubbard
found time to do in a single day, and that without being one of
your fussy, utilitarian busy-bodies, whose activity is all
physical, and who look upon half an hour passed in quiet thought,
or innocent recreation, as so much time thrown away. Our friend
Patsey's career, from childhood, had been one of humble industry,
self-forgetfulness, and active charity; her time in the gay hours
of youth, as well as in the calmer years of mature experience,
had been devoted to the welfare and happiness of her parents, her
brothers and sisters. From a long habit of considering the wants
and pleasures of others first, she always seemed to think of
herself last, as a matter of course. She had had many laborious,
anxious hours, many cares; but it is far from being those who
have the most trouble in this world, who complain the loudest; no
one had fewer wants, fewer vanities, fewer idle hours than Miss
Patsey, and, consequently, no one could be more generally
cheerful and contented. There is nothing so conducive to true,
healthful cheerfulness, as the consciousness of time well-spent:
there is no better cure for the dull spirit of French ENNUI, or
the gloom of English BLUES, than regular, useful occupation,
followed by harmless recreation.

Any one who had followed Patsey Hubbard through the varied duties
of a single day, would have acknowledged that there is no
spectacle in this world more pleasant, than that of a human
being, discharging with untiring fidelity, and singleness of
heart, duties, however humble. The simple piety of her first
morning prayer, the plain good sense of her domestic
arrangements, and thorough performance of all her household
tasks, her respectful, considerate kindness to her step-mother,
and even a shade of undue indulgence of Charlie--all spoke her
character--all was consistent.

Happy was Patsey's little flock of scholars. Every morning, at
nine o'clock, they assembled; the Taylor children usually
appeared in Leghorn gipsies, and silk aprons; the rest of the
troop in gingham "sun-bonnets," and large aprons of the same
material. There were several little boys just out of petticoats,
and half-a-dozen little girls--enough to fill two benches. The
instruction Patsey gave her little people was of the simplest
kind; reading, spelling, writing, and arithmetic, learning a few
simple verses, with sewing and marking for the girls, made up the
amount of it. Most people, in these days of enlightenment, would
have been very much dissatisfied with her plan, for it actually
excluded all the sciences, and all the accomplishments. Patsey
had two reasons for confining herself to the plainest branches of
education only; in the first place, she did not think herself
capable of teaching anything else; and, secondly, she doubted
whether her scholars were capable of learning anything better or
more useful for themselves. Mr. Taylor thought she had very low
views of infant education; and yet, you could not have found
anywhere a set of children, between three and ten, who were more
thoroughly taught what their instructor professed to teach. Happy
would it be for these little creatures, if they never acquired
any worse knowledge than they gained under Patsey's care! She had
an eye to their tempers, their morals, and their manners; she
trained the little girls to be modest and gentle--the little boys
to be respectful and obliging; while she endeavoured to make all
alike honest, open, cheerful, and sincere. Were not these lessons
quite as important to most children, between the ages of three
and ten, as chemistry, astronomy, and natural philosophy?

{"Leghorn gipsies" = fashionable hats (named after Leghorn,
Italy) with large side flaps; "marking" = embroidering
identifying names or initials on linen}

The day following Uncle Josie's house-warming, Miss Patsey
released her little flock an hour earlier than usual; they were
allowed to pass the time playing in an adjoining meadow, until
sent for by their parents. There was to be a tea-party at the
"old gray house" that evening--a very unusual event; ten
invitations had been sent out. The fact is, Miss Patsey had
received a basket of noble peaches, the day before, from one of
her neighbours; and Uncle Josie had already, early in the
morning, sent over a wagon-load of good things to replenish his
niece's larder--the remains of the last night's supper; among
other delicacies there was a bit of boned turkey, for Mrs.
Hubbard's especial benefit. Patsey scarcely knew what to do with
so many luxuries. She sent a basket of fruits and jellies to a
couple of sick neighbours, by Charlie; still, there was more than
her mother, Charlie, and herself, could possibly do justice to in
a week. She determined to give a little tea-party; it was
eighteen months since she had had one, and that had been only for
the Wyllyses. Dr. and Mrs. Van Horne, the Taylors, the Wyllyses,
and the Clapps were accordingly invited; and Patsey proceeded to
burn some coffee, and make short-cake. The little parlour was
more carefully swept and dusted than ever, five additional chairs
were brought in, and a fire was made, on account of Mrs. Hubbard.
Then, about four o'clock, the ladies made their toilette; Mrs.
Hubbard was dressed in a smart new calico, with a cap, made by
Elinor, and was then seated in the best rocking-chair. As for
Patsey, herself, she could not think of wearing the elegant new
dress, Uncle Josie's present--that was much too fine; she
preferred what had now become her second-best--a black silk,
which looked somewhat rusty and well-worn. To tell the truth,
this gown had seen good service; it had been not only turned, but
re-turned--having twice gone through the operation of ripping and
sponging; and doubtful as the fact may appear to the reader, yet
we have Miss Patsey's word for it, that a good silk will bear
twice turning, but then it must be a silk of a first-rate
quality, like her own. It had been, indeed, the standing opinion
of the family for the last five years, that this particular dress
was still "as good as new." As for the changes in fashion that
this black silk had outlived, who shall tell them? It was
purchased in the days of short waists and belts, "gig-ohs," and
"pal-reens," as they were called by the country damsel, whose
scissors first shaped the glossy "gro de nap." Waists, long,
longer, longest, succeeded; sleeves, full, fuller, fullest,
followed; belts were discarded, boddices {sic} began to appear;
still Miss Patsey's silk kept up with the changes, or rather, did
not entirely lose sight of them. If you had seen her at a little
tea-party at Wyllys-Roof, wearing this silk, "nearly as good as
new," with a neat and pretty collar of Elinor's work, you would
have been obliged to confess that her dress answered a rule given
by a celebrated philosopher--you would not have remarked it. Had
you chanced to meet her of a Sunday, in Mr. Wyllys's
carriage--the Wyllyses always stopped on their way to St. John's
Church, at Longbridge, to offer a couple of seats to the
Hubbards, who were set down at the door of their father's old
Meeting-house--had you seen her of a Sunday, with a neat straw
hat, and the black silk gown, you would have been obliged to
acknowledge that her dress had the double merit, by no means
common, of according with her circumstances, and the sacred
duties she was going to fulfil; the devotion of her neighbours
would not be disturbed by admiration of her toilette.

{"burn some coffee" = roast some coffee; "gig-oh" = a puffed
"gigot" or "leg of mutton" sleeve; "pal-reen" = "pelerine", a
cape or mantle; "gro de nap" = "gros de Naples", a weave of silk
with a corded effect (French)}

At five o'clock, Miss Patsey's company began to assemble; the
Wyllyses were the first to appear; then came Mrs. Taylor, Mrs.
Van Horne, and Mrs. Clapp; Adeline excused herself, she thought
it a bore, Charlie was not worth flirting with. The doctor, Mr.
Taylor, and Mr. Clapp, were expected after tea. And a pleasant,
good-natured evening it proved to be. Miss Patsey's coffee was
excellent; the little black girl, engaged for the occasion,
performed her duties to admiration. Mrs. Taylor thought that she
had scarcely passed such a quiet, pleasant afternoon, since the
halcyon days before her husband was a rich man; she was much
interested in discussing with Miss Patsey, and Miss Wyllys, and
Mrs. Van Horne, various recipes for making bread, hoe-cake, and
other good things. As for Elinor, she told Charlie she had left
her work at home, on purpose that she might have time enough to
look over all his sketches--everything he had to show, old and
new. The drawings, and several oil-paintings were accordingly
produced, and looked over by the young people, and Mr. Wyllys,
who had taken a chair by the table, and joined them. Elinor knew
nothing of drawing, but her general taste was good; she asked
many questions about the details of the art, and was amused and
interested by Charlie's remarks.

{"left her work at home" = the knitting or similar hand-work
engaged in by ladies while they conversed}

"Show us everything, Charlie," said Mr. Wyllys. "I befriended
your genius, you know, in the days of the slate and compound
interest; and, of course, I shall think it due to my own
discernment to admire all your works."

"Of course, you are not afraid of my criticisms," said Elinor; "I
don't know enough to be severe."

"People who know little, my child, generally make very severe
critics," said Mr. Wyllys.

"When they know LITTLE, grandpapa; but mine is honest, humble
ignorance. I know nothing at all on the subject."

"Do you remember, Miss Elinor, that Hogarth said anybody
possessing common sense was a better judge of a picture than a
connoisseur?"

{"Hogarth" = William Hogarth (1697-1764), English artist and
printmaker.}

"Did Hogarth say so?--I shall begin to feel qualified to find
fault. That is a very pretty group of children, grandpapa."

"Very pretty;--some of Miss Patsey's little people. And here is
another, quite natural and graceful, Charlie."

"I never see my sister's little scholars but I am tempted to
sketch them. Children are such a charming study; but I am never
satisfied with what I do; a picture of children that is not
thoroughly childlike is detestable. Those are mere scratches."

"What are these faint outlines of figures, with dashes of
colouring here and there?" asked Elinor.

"Oh, those are mere fancies, made entirely for amusement. They
are rude sketches of my own ideas of celebrated pictures that I
have never seen, of course; only as exercises for idle
moments--one way of practising attitudes of figures, and
composition. I keep them more as a lesson of humility than
anything else, for me to remember my own poor conceits when I see
the originals, if that happy day ever come."

"I thought you gave yourself up entirely to landscapes,
Charlie--do you think seriously of pursuing both branches?" asked
Mr. Wyllys.

"No, sir; I give the preference to landscapes; I find, at least,
that field quite wide enough. It seems scarcely possible to unite
both, they are so different in character and detail, and require
such a different course of study."

"That is the great point with you, my boy; you must not waste too
much time upon the ideal portion of the art; you must remember
that the most beautiful ideas in the world will be lost, if the
execution is not in some measure worthy of them."

"I am so well aware of that, sir, that I have done nothing but
study the practical part of my trade for the last three months,
and I feel that it has been of service to me."

"There is water in all your sketches, I believe," said Elinor.
"You must be very partial to it."

"I am, indeed--it is a most delightful study--I should be afraid
to tell you all the pleasure I have in painting water--you would
laugh at me, if I once set off upon my hobby."

"Not at all; you have made me an honest admirer of every variety
of lakes and rivers, since I have seen your pictures."

"When did you first take to water, Charlie?" asked Mr. Wyllys.

"Oh, long ago, sir, when I was a little bit of a shaver. Have you
never when a child, Miss Elinor, received great pleasure, perhaps
a lasting impression, from some natural object that you still
remember distinctly?"

"Yes, I know what you mean--I recollect perfectly several things
of the kind. I believe children have more observation, and
feeling for what is beautiful, than is generally supposed."

"It is very probable that most children have similar sensations.
I am glad that you do not laugh at me; there are few persons to
whom I confess my violent partiality for water; most people would
think it ridiculous."

"You are right, Charlie; one can talk to the world in action
only; it never believes the truth in any shape, until forced to
acknowledge it. You are pursuing the right course, however; you
have spoken quite clearly in your view from Nahant--your friends
have every reason to urge you to persevere. But does not Mr.
----- tell you to pay more attention to your foliage and
buildings? you rather neglect them for the water."

"Yes, sir; I am well aware of my defects in that respect, and
next summer I hope to devote a great deal of time to foliage."

The conversation was here interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Van
Horne and Mr. Taylor, followed shortly after by Mr. Clapp.

"You are late, William," said pretty little Mrs. Clapp to her
husband. "Did you leave the children all safe? Did the baby cry
for me?"

"Perfectly safe--all sound asleep," replied Mr. Clapp, passing
his fingers through his curls. But his wife, who knew every
expression of the face she thought so handsome, fancied William
looked pale and uneasy; some business had gone wrong, perhaps.

"Quite a select circle," observed Mr. Taylor, sitting down by
Miss Wyllys, leaning his chair back, and rolling his thumbs, one
over the other.

"I have not had a pleasanter evening in a great while," said Mrs.
Taylor. "It puts me in mind, husband, of old fashioned
tea-parties, when we lived altogether in the country. We used to
go at two o'clock, and stay until sunset. I think such sociable
parties are much pleasanter than late, crowded balls."

"Ha! ha!--that may be your opinion, Mrs. Taylor; a quiet party
does very well where one is intimate, no doubt; but I conclude
that younger ladies, Adeline, and her friends Miss Graham and
Miss Wyllys, would give a different verdict."

"Miss Taylor seems quite partial to large parties," said Elinor,
quietly, for the remark was addressed to her.

"Yes, Adeline and her 'chum' both like plenty of balls and beaux,
I reckon."

"What has become of your patient, doctor?" inquired Miss Patsey.
"The poor man at the tavern--do you think he will get well?"

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.