Book: Elinor Wyllys

S >> Susan Fenimore Cooper >> Elinor Wyllys




We have said that these two sisters were very much alike. Mrs.
Hilson, however, was the most distinguished of the two, for she
carried the family follies several degrees farther than Miss
Emmeline. Taken altogether, she was an absurd compound.
Personally, she was thoroughly American, very pretty and delicate
in form and features, and thus far appeared to great advantage;
but she had, also, an affected mincing manner, and drawling
voice. Of course, her dress was as Parisian as possible;
everything she wore was a faithful copy from "Le Courier des
Dames." Her feelings and opinions; Mrs. Hilson was proud to call
English in the extreme, for she had chosen to imbibe a great love
of "aristocracy," and many other things which she did not in the
least understand. She had a set of common-place phrases of this
description in constant use, having borrowed them from an
intimate friend, living in the same boarding-house, a Mrs.
Bagman, an Englishwoman, of a very equivocal position. Then, she
read nothing but English novels; these were her only source of
amusement and instruction in the way of books; and as she
followed the example of Mrs. Bagman, in rejecting every tale that
had not its due share of lords and ladies, she called herself
fastidious in the selection. She was a great talker, and not a
day passed but what cockney sentiments fell from her pretty
little mouth, in drawling tones, from under a fanciful Parisian
coiffure. John Bull would have stared, however, if called upon to
acknowledge her as a daughter; for Yankee vulgarity and English
vulgarity are very different in character--the first having the
most pretension, the last the most coarseness.

These ladies had scarcely driven from the door, before Mrs.
Wyllys exclaimed: "Is it possible, Agnes, that these Hubbards are
a good specimen of the Longbridge people!"

"No, indeed; one such family is quite enough for any place."

"How ridiculous they are! How can you tolerate them?"

"Now, pray, Aunt Agnes," said Elinor, "do not say one word in
their favour."

"No; as regards the ladies of the family, one can say little.
They are not perhaps, by nature, as ridiculous as they have made
themselves. Time may do something for them. But their father is a
very worthy, respectable man; you must have seen him at our house
last summer. Don't you remember one day two uncles of Patsey
Hubbard dining with us?"

"Yes, I do remember them; one Charles Hubbard called Uncle Josey
{sic}, and he seemed quite a sensible man; the other fell asleep
I know, the one they called Uncle Dozie."

"The napping uncle is the old bachelor; Uncle Josie is the father
of these ladies."

"He seemed a sensible man; how came he to have such daughters?"

"They are very like their mother, who died a year or two since."

"They are very disagreeable, certainly. How often shall we be
required to encounter this desperate elegance? I almost begin to
repent having fixed myself at Longbridge."

"And between Mrs. Bibbs, and Mrs. Tibbs, too!" said Elinor,
laughing. "However, for your consolation, Aunt, I can assure you
these two ladies are far from being so very 'fascinating' as the
Hubbards. Mrs. Hilson and her sister rise high above the rest of
us in that respect--they are, decidedly, 'our Corinthian
capital.'"

"You will find the Van Hornes, the Bernards, and several other
families, very pleasant neighbours, on farther acquaintance,"
said Miss Agnes. "You have really been unfortunate in this
specimen."

"And where did these ladies contrive to pick up so much
absurdity?"

"With a miserable education to begin with, no other reading than
the worst novels, and the chance association of second-rate
boarding-houses, that point, I think, is easily accounted for,"
said Miss Agnes.

The conversation was interrupted by the hurried return of Mr.
Wyllys, who held a newspaper in his hand.

"They have arrived!" cried Elinor, springing from her chair, as
she saw her grandfather enter the gate.

"Good news!" said Mr. Wyllys, as he joined the ladies. "The Erie
is in, and our friends with her! They must have arrived in the
night, and to-morrow morning we shall have them here."

Of course, all the family were gratified by the good news. Elinor
was quite agitated, though her aunt had the pleasure of seeing
her look very happy.

"Here it is," said Mr. Wyllys, reading from the paper the arrival
of "'the Packet Ship Erie, Capt. Funck, from Havre, consigned to
----- ----- & Co.;' that you won't care about. But here is the
list of passengers: 'Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson, and a dozen
Masters and Misses Johnson, from Natchez;'--strangers, you will
say, but here are acquaintances: 'Mrs. Creighton, Mr. Francis
Ellsworth, and servant, of Phil.; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Hazleworth,
and family, of Phil.; Miss Graham, of Phil.; Madame Gigot, of
Paris:' wait a moment, Nelly, all in good time. 'Capt. Flint, of
British Army; Achille Bureau, of Paris; T. Davis, of Charleston;
Dr. Brackett, of St. Louis;' and, though last, not least in our
estimation, W. Hazleworth, of Phil.; with seventy-nine in the
steerage.' Of course, for W. Hazleworth, read H. Hazlehurst; they
never spell a name right. We shall have them all here to-morrow I
hope, Nelly."

If Elinor said little, she thought and felt a great deal.

They were still talking over the arrival, when Mrs. Wyllys's
little girl came skipping in, again, and said; "Here comes a
gentleman, mamma." She was followed in an instant, by a young
man, who, in a hurried, eager manner, had kissed the hand of Miss
Agnes, and Elinor's cheek, before either had time to exclaim
"Harry!"

It was, in fact, Hazlehurst, still in his travelling-cap. They
had arrived in the night, he said, and the rest of the party was
to follow him the next day.



CHAPTER IX.

"How taught shall I return?"
CRABBE.

{George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: VI
The Farewell and Return" line I.62}

OF course, Harry was established at Wyllys-Roof. And, after a few
days passed with her parents at Longbridge, Elinor persuaded Jane
to pay her a short visit.

It is a pleasant moment for people of mature years, when they can
sit idly by, as affectionate observers, while a gay party of
young people, in whom they are interested, are chatting
familiarly together, with the lively tone and light spirits of
youth, free alike from the restraints of childhood, and the cares
of middle age. Every varied shade of character, unconsciously
betrayed by the young group--the playful remark--the just
observation--the pleasing acquirement--an act of good-nature--a
graceful motion--the bright eye and the careless smile--ay, even
the proof of inexperience and want of worldly wisdom--all is
attractive to the partial friends. They feel such a moment to be
the reward of many a previous hour of care and anxiety; it is
their happy privilege to mark each improvement in person, mind
and heart--the fruit of past labours and prayers--the cheering
promise amid the doubts of the future. Happy they, who can look
upon the young people committed to their charge, with the
consciousness that no important duty towards them has been
neglected; happy the young person, who, with a clear conscience
and an open countenance, can meet the approving smile of a
parent; thrice happy the youth, who, having taken a false step at
the beginning of his career, has had the courage and wisdom to
turn, ere too late; that precious approbation of wise and true
friends, may still be fully his; he has turned from danger,
temptation and shame, into the sure and safe path that leads to
everything most to be valued, even in this world.

As for our friends at Wyllys-Roof, the joy of re-union, after a
long absence, gave additional zest to the first pleasant meetings
of the young people, in whom Miss Agnes and Mr. Wyllys were so
warmly interested. Elinor was in gay spirits--even Jane was more
animated than usual, in her expressions and manners. As for
Harry, he was decidedly improved; the last two years had done a
great deal for him. He was now a clever, well-educated, agreeable
young man of three-and-twenty, whose judgment and taste were much
improved by travelling.

"A very good-looking fellow, too, Agnes," remarked Mr. Wyllys.

It was easy to gather, from the natural, healthful tone of his
conversation, that in more important points, while he had gained
much, he had lost nothing by wider observation of the world.

As for Jane, Miss Agnes had not expected much from her, and she
was pleased with the changes she observed. Her young kinswoman's
temper seemed to have become more even than formerly, and she was
quite as much pleased to return to her family, as she ought to
have been. It appeared natural, that everybody who saw Jane
should be satisfied with looking at her. Beauty like hers
disarmed their attempts at severity, and disposed them to
indulgence. It seemed scarcely reasonable to expect any striking
quality, or great virtue, with beauty so rare. But if the
Wyllyses had thought her beautiful before she left them, they
were really astonished to find how much it had been possible for
her to gain in appearance. Her face was now perfectly lovely, in
the finest style of beauty. Miss Wyllys was pleased to find her
manners much improved; a change from the society of Adeline
Taylor, and her lively young friends, to that of older and
better-bred people, had been of great advantage. Jane's labours
of liveliness had annoyed Miss Agnes not a little; and more than
once she had ventured a remark on the subject; but her young
relative had been too well advised, by Adeline and her
school-companions, to believe that Miss Wyllys could possibly
know, as well as themselves, what were the fashionable airs and
graces of the day. Since her visit to Paris, however, Jane's
manner, without her being aware of it herself, had become much
more quiet and natural. During the last twelvemonth, she had not
found it necessary to make perpetual exertions to attract, or
retain admirers. She had learned to look upon the attentions of
society as a matter of course.

The observations of Mr. Wyllys and his daughter were not all
confined to the two young travellers; they watched the graceful
movements of Elinor, and listened with interest to the gay
remarks made in her pleasant voice. She had never been in better
spirits, and was evidently happy. Elinor was really attached to
Jane; and yet, never were two girls less alike, not only in
person, but in mind and disposition. Jane's beauty was a great
charm, in Elinor's eyes. The homeliness of her own features only
increased her admiration for those of her cousin, who had always
filled, with her, the place of a younger sister and pet, although
the difference in their ages was very trifling. If these feelings
were not returned as warmly as they deserved, Elinor had never
seemed to expect that they should be; it was not in Jane's nature
to do so. That Harry's arrival should have made her happy, was,
of course, only natural; she betrayed, at times, a touch of
embarrassment towards him, when Aunt Agnes had smiled too openly,
or Mr. Wyllys had rallied too strongly; but it was graceful, like
every shade in her manner.

Miss Agnes was well aware that the last two years had not been
lost with Elinor, although passed in quiet every-day life. She
knew, from close observation, that the character of her adopted
child had been gradually approaching nearer to all she wished it
to be. As the two young girls sat chatting together, Miss Wyllys
could not but mark the striking difference in their appearance;
but she also felt that if Jane's loveliness were a charm, even to
her, knowing Elinor thoroughly, she loved her far more deeply for
the want of beauty. But, of course, the world would have decided
differently.

The morning after Jane's arrival at Wyllys-Roof, the young people
were engaged in one of the gay conversations we have alluded to,
when Mr. Wyllys called off Hazlehurst's attention.

"Harry, what was that clumsy contrivance about the French horses,
you were describing to Van Horne, last night? I wanted to ask
you, at the time, but you began to talk with Miss Patsey. You
said something about a wooden collar, I think."

Harry changed his seat, for one nearer Mr. Wyllys, and began a
long explanation of the harness used by the French teamsters.

"I have several engravings in my trunks, that will show you my
meaning, sir, better than words can do."

"I should like to see them. But, are these wooden wings to the
collars, as you describe them, used throughout France, or only in
Normandy, and the neighbourhood of Paris?"

"We saw them wherever we went. All the carters and farmers seem
to use them. They have, besides, a great deal of clumsy, useless
ornament, and they contrive to want twice as much tackle as we
do."

The gentlemen continued to discuss the subject of horses and
harness, Harry relating, for Mr. Wyllys's amusement, many
observations he had made, on these matters, in the different
countries where he had been.

Jane had brought down, from her room, an arm-full of pretty
things, evidently Parisian. She had just given Elinor a very
pretty bag, which Miss Agnes was called upon to admire.

"My dear Aunt," cried Elinor, "do look at this; Jane, I think we
must call it a sac--'bag' sounds too heavy. Look at the
material--the finest cachemere. And then the colour, so rich and
so delicate at the same time."

"Yes; it is a very pretty shade of ponceau," said Jane.

{"ponceau" = poppy red (French)}

"And then the shape! so Parisian! And the ornaments--"

"It is very pretty," said Miss Wyllys, after due examination.

"That is the way with everything that comes from Paris," said
Elinor; "it is always so complete; not one part good and others
clumsy--or good in quality, but ugly in form and colour. The
French seem to have an instinct about these things; they throw a
grace about everything."

"Yes; they have a perfect taste," said Jane.

"While I was up-stairs, with Louisa, yesterday," said Elinor, "we
talked over Paris all the morning, Aunt Agnes. I was amused with
a great deal she told me. Louisa says, there is a fitness in all
that a French-woman does and says, and even in everything she
wears--that her dress is always consistent--always appropriate to
the occasion."

"That is true," replied Jane; "their dress is always of a piece."

"And yet, Louisa insists upon it, that they do not bestow more
time and thought upon the subject, than the women of other
countries--and, certainly, not so much money."

"Everything is so easy to be had, and so much cheaper, in Paris,"
said Jane.

"But, she remarked, that they are never ashamed to wear a pretty
thing merely because it is cheap; nor to make themselves
comfortable, by wearing thick shoes in the mud, and a coarse,
warm shawl in a fog."

"We have not much mud or fog to trouble us, in this country;"
said Miss Agnes.

"No, aunt; but we have hard showers in summer, and cold weather
in winter; in spite of which, you know, our ladies must always be
dressed like fairies."

"I have often heard Madame de Bessieres praise the good sense of
her countrywomen, on those subjects," observed Miss Wyllys.

"Louisa maintains that the French-women have a great deal of
common sense; she says, that is the foundation of their good
taste; and, I suppose, after all, good taste is only good sense
refined."

"I suppose it is, my dear. Louisa seems to have come back even
more of a French-woman than you, Jane," observed Miss Agnes.

"Oh! I like the French very well, Aunt Agnes."

"But Louisa is quite eloquent on the subject."

"She was so very fortunate, Aunt, in having so kind a friend in
Paris, as Madame de Bessieres. Louisa describes the de Bessieres
as living in a delightful set of people--she mentioned half a
dozen persons whom she met habitually there, as not only amiable,
and highly accomplished, and well-bred, but high-principled, too.
She says she used often to wish you could know them, Aunt Agnes."

"I can readily believe anything good of the intimate friends of
Madame de Bessieres, for I never knew a woman whose character was
more worthy of respect. It was a great loss to us, when she
returned to France. She was very fond of you, Elinor."

"How kind in a person of Madame de Bessieres' age, to remember
me! I long to see the letter she wrote me; Robert says I shall
have it, certainly, to-morrow, when all their baggage will be at
Longbridge."

"Madame de Bessieres often spoke of you, Elinor," said Jane. "She
bid me ask if you remembered all the pet names she used to call
you, but I forgot to mention it when I wrote."

"Just as you forget many other things, naughty girl; I must say
you are anything but a model correspondent, Jenny, dear."

"Well, I can't help it--I do dislike so to write!"

"You need not tell me that," said Elinor, laughing. "But I do
remember all Madame de Bessieres' kind names very well. It was
sometimes, mon lapin, mon lapin dore, mon chou, ma mere--they all
sounded pleasantly to me, she spoke them so kindly. But sometimes
to vex me, the other children--Master Harry among others--used to
translate them; and, though rabbit, and golden rabbit, sounded
very well in English, I did not care to be called cabbage."

{"mon lapin" = my rabbit; "mon chou" = my cabbage, a term of
endearment; "dore" = golden; "ma mere" = my mother (French)}

"Did you like the young people you met in Paris, Jane?" asked
Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, yes; the young men don't trouble you to entertain them, and
the girls are very good-natured and pleasant."

"Louisa seems to think the French girls are charming--so
graceful, and pleasing, and modest; really accomplished, and well
educated, too, she says--all that young women ought to be."

"Yes, she says that she hopes her little girls will be as well
educated as Madame de Bessieres' grand-daughters," said Jane.

"Well, I hope my little namesake may answer her mother's
expectations. She is a sweet little puss now, at any rate. Louisa
was quite vexed yesterday, with Mrs. Van Horne, who asked her if
the French girls were not all artful, and hypocritical. She
answered her, that, on the contrary, those she saw the most
frequently, were modest, ingenuous, and thoroughly
well-principled in every way, besides being very accomplished.
She laid great stress on one point, the respect invariably paid
by the young to the old, not only among the women, but the men,
too."

"Yes," observed Miss Agnes; "I remember to have heard the same
remark from Madame de Bessieres; she observed, that after having
been in many different countries, she could justly claim for her
own, that in no other was so much deference paid to age as in
France."

"That agrees precisely with Louisa's opinion. She says it is a
striking feature in French society, and appears thoroughly part
of their character--not at all assumed for appearance sake."

"It is a duty too little remembered in this country. It seems to
be only in our very best families that the subject is properly
attended to," said Miss Agnes.

"Louisa likes the manners of the men for the same reason; she
says that in society they are always respectful and obliging,
whatever other agreeable or disagreeable qualities they may have.
She remarked, that she had never met with a rude Frenchman in
society; but she had, repeatedly, met with rude Englishmen, in
very good company."

"What fault, pray, did Louisa find with the Englishmen you met,
Jane?" asked Miss Agnes.

"There is a certain set, who say and do rude things."

"I should not have thought that;" said Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, they have a way of making themselves disagreeable; now, a
Frenchman never tries to be disagreeable."

"One would think no one would try that," said Elinor.

"The English do, though, I assure you; at least a certain set. I
don't believe any other people do. I remember one evening, Harry
was very angry with a certain Mr. Ellery, son of Lord Greystone,
who used to come to our house quite often last spring. Do you
remember him, Harry?" she added, as Hazlehurst again approached
the table covered with French knicknacks {sic}, where the girls
were sitting.

"Whom were you talking about?" he asked.

"Mr. Ellery;--do you remember his manner?"

"Ellery?--To be sure I do!--Insufferable coxcomb!"

"Pray, what was his great offence?" asked Elinor, laughing.

Harry coloured violently. "Oh, it was his intolerable English
manner. I have known him stretch himself out nearly full length
on a sofa, on which Jane or Louisa was sitting, and stare at
them, with the most sickening expression, for half an hour at a
time."

"Half an hour, Harry! how can you talk so? Half a minute, you
mean."

"Well, until he drove you away, at any rate. I was often
surprised that you could endure it as long as you did. But
happily, Louisa cooled him off after a while; though I had a
strong inclination to undertake the job myself."

"It was much better as it was; it was Louisa's place to do it,"
observed Miss Agnes.

"But I thought you liked the English," said Elinor, with some
surprise. "You were speaking very highly of several of your
English friends, last night."

"I do like the better sort very much. They are fine, manly
fellows, as ever breathed."

"What people did you like best?" asked Miss Agnes.

"A man who does not cherish prejudice, must naturally like the
best qualities and the best individuals of all nations."

"But have you no preference?"

"There cannot be a doubt, that society is more agreeable in
France, in Paris, than elsewhere."

"Are not the French too artificial?"

"I honestly do not think them more so than the English. English
simplicity often has a very artificial twist; with the French it
is just the reverse; art becomes a second-nature, with them."

"We hear the French accused of selfishness--"

"I think you would find both French and English more selfish than
we are. But they have different ways of showing it. The
Englishman is exclusive, and reserved; the Frenchman egotistical.
Reserve may seem dignified; but it often covers a great deal of
cold self-love; while French egotism--not EGOISME--is often
mingled with much naivete and bonhommie {sic}. Both nations,
however, are more selfish than the Italians, or Germans, I should
say."

"Still, you seem to like the French the best of the two."

"Well, the French generally treat Americans more civilly than the
English. John Bull is very fond of giving himself airs of
superiority, after a disagreeable fashion of his own. Now a
Frenchman fancies himself so much more civilized than the rest of
the world, that he has a good-natured feeling towards everybody
but John Bull: he thinks he can afford to be amiable and
friendly."

"If you are speaking of the best people in each country,
however," said Mr. Wyllys; "that is not the surest way of judging
national character. We must take the average."

"I am aware of that, sir."

"At any rate, you don't seem to have liked this Mr. Ellery," said
Elinor.

"Not in the least; I used to think him excessively impertinent,"
exclaimed Harry, and as his choler rose, while certain
recollections passed through his mind, he coloured again. To
change the subject, he took up the bag the young ladies had been
admiring.

"What fanciful name may belong to this piece of finery; for, of
course, it is not a bag?" he asked.

"Oh, it is too useful, not to have a straight-forward, common
name; you may call it a sac, though, if you like. I could not
think of anything more imaginative; can you, Jane?"

"I dare say, there is another name; but I have forgotten it;
everything has a name of its own, in Paris."

"Your table looks like a fancy-shop, Aunt Agnes," continued
Hazlehurst; "gloves, bags, purses, boxes, muslins, portfolios,
and twenty other things, jumbled together."

"What sort of wood is the work-box that you chose for Miss
Patsey?" asked Elinor. "I am very glad you thought of her."

"Harry does not seem to have forgotten any of his friends, while
in Paris," said Miss Agnes.

Hazlehurst looked down.

"It is some dark wood; not rose-wood, however. It is rather
plain; but a serviceable-looking box," he said.

"Just the thing for Miss Patsey," observed Elinor.

"Here, Elinor," said Jane, "is the cape I spoke of;" and she
unfolded a paper, and drew from it a piece of muslin which had
evidently received a very pretty shape, fine embroidery, and
tasteful bows of riband from some Parisian hand. "This is the one
I spoke of.--Is it not much prettier than any you have seen?"

Elinor received the cape from her cousin, who was unusually
animated in its praises; it was held up to the light; then laid
on the table; the delicacy of the work was admired; then the
form, and the ribands; and, at last, Elinor threw it over Jane's
shoulders, observing, at the same time, that it was particularly
becoming to her. Harry seemed determined not to look; and, in
order to resist any inclination he may have felt, to do so, he
resolutely took up a Review, and began turning over its pages.
The young ladies' admiration of the cape lasted several minutes,
and, at length, Elinor called upon the rest of the party to
admire how becoming it was.

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