Home as Found by James Fenimore Cooper (easy novels to read .txt) 📖

shrank to the side of John

Effingham, whose arm she took as a step necessary even to decorum.

 

Mrs. Houston received her guests with ease and dignity. She was one

of those females that the American world calls gay; in other words,

she opened her own house to a very promiscuous society, ten or a

dozen times in a winter, and accepted the greater part of the

invitations she got to other people's. Still, in most other

countries, as a fashionable woman, she would have been esteemed a

model of devotion to the duties of a wife and a mother, for she paid

a personal attention to her household, and had actually taught all

her children the Lord's prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments.

She attended church twice every Sunday, and only staid at home from

the evening lectures, that the domestics might have the opportunity

of going (which, by the way, they never did) in her stead. Feminine,

well-mannered, rich, pretty, of a very positive social condition, and

naturally kind-hearted and disposed to sociability, Mrs. Houston,

supported by an indulgent husband, who so much loved to see people

with the appearance of happiness, that he was not particular as to

the means, had found no difficulty in rising to the pinnacle of

fashion, and of having her name in the mouths of all those who find

it necessary to talk of somebodies, in order that they may seem to be

somebodies themselves. All this contributed to Mrs. Houston's

happiness, or she fancied it did; and as every passion is known to

increase by indulgence, she had insensibly gone on in her much-envied

career until, as has just been said, she reached the summit.

 

"These rooms are very crowded," said Sir George, glancing his eyes

around two very pretty little narrow drawing-rooms, that were

beautifully, not to say richly, furnished; "one wonders that the same

contracted style of building should be so very general, in a town

that increases as rapidly as this, and where fashion has no fixed

abode, and land is so abundant."

 

"Mrs. Bloomfield would tell you," said Eve, "that these houses are

types of the social state of the country, in which no one is

permitted to occupy more than his share of ground."

 

"But there are reasonably large dwellings in the place. Mrs. Hawker

has a good house, and your father's for instance, would be thought

so, too, in London even; and yet I fancy you will agree with me in

thinking that a good room is almost unknown in New-York."

 

"I do agree with you, in this particular, certainly, for to meet with

a good room, one must go into the houses built thirty years ago. We

have inherited these snuggeries, however, England not having much to

boast of in the way of houses."

 

"In the way of town residences, I agree with you entirely, as a

whole, though we have some capital exceptions. Still, I do not think

we are quite as compact as this--do you not fancy the noise increased

in consequence of its being so confined?"

 

Eve laughed and shook her head quite positively.

 

"What would it be if fairly let out!" she said. "But we will not

waste the precious moments, but turn our eyes about us in quest of

the _belles_. Grace, you who are so much at home, must be our

cicerone, and tell us which are the idols we are to worship."

 

"_Dites moi premierement; que veut dire une belle a New-York?_"

demanded Mademoiselle Viefville. "_Apparemment, tout le monde est

joli._"

 

"A _belle_, Mademoiselle," returned John Effingham, "is not

necessarily beautiful, the qualifications for the character, being

various and a little contradictory. One may be a _belle_ by means of

money, a tongue, an eye, a foot, teeth, a laugh, or any other

separate feature, or grace; though no woman was ever yet a _belle_, I

believe, by means of the head, considered collectively. But why deal

in description, when the thing itself confronts us? The young lady

standing directly before us, is a _belle_ of the most approved stamp

and silvery tone. Is it not Miss Ring, Grace?"

 

The answer was in the affirmative, and the eyes of the whole party

turned towards the subject of this remark. The young lady in question

was about twenty, rather tall for an American woman, not

conspicuously handsome, but like most around her of delicate features

and frame, and with such a _physique_, as, under proper training,

would have rendered her the _beau ideal_ of feminine delicacy and

gentleness. She had natural spirit, likewise, as appeared in her

clear blue eye, and moreover she had the spirit to be a _belle_.

 

Around this young creature were clustered no less than five young

men, dressed in the height of the fashion, all of whom seemed to be

entranced with the words that fell from her lips, and each of whom

appeared anxious to say something clever in return. They all laughed,

the lady most, and sometimes all spoke at once. Notwithstanding these

outbreakings, Miss Ring did most of the talking, and once or twice,

as a young man would gape after a most exhilarating show of

merriment, and discover an inclination to retreat, she managed to

recall him to his allegiance, by some remark particularly pertinent

to himself, or his feelings.

 

"_Qui est cette dame?_" asked Mademoiselle Viefville, very much as

one would put a similar question, on seeing a man enter a church

during service with his hat on.

 

"_Elle est demoiselle_," returned Eve.

 

"_Quelle horreur!_"

 

"Nay, nay, Mademoiselle, I shall not allow you to set up France as

immaculate on this point, neither--" said John Effingham, looking at

the last speaker with an affected frown--"A young lady may have a

tongue, and she may even speak to a young gentleman, and not be

guilty of felony; although I will admit that five tongues are

unnecessary, and that five listeners are more than sufficient, for

the wisdom of twenty in petticoats."

 

"_C'est une horreur!_"

 

"I dare say Miss Ring would think it a greater horror to be obliged

to pass an evening in a row of girls, unspoken to, except to be asked

to dance, and admired only in the distance. But let us take seats on

that sofa, and then we may go beyond the pantomime, and become

partakers in the sentiment of the scene."

 

Grace and Eve were now led off to dance, and the others did as John

Effingham had suggested. In the eyes of the _belle_ and her admirers,

they who had passed thirty were of no account, and our listeners

succeeded in establishing themselves quietly within ear-shot--this

was almost at duelling distance, too,--without at all interrupting

the regular action of the piece. We extract a little of the dialogue,

by way of giving a more dramatic representation of the scene.

 

"Do you think the youngest Miss Danvers beautiful?" asked the

_belle_, while her eye wandered in quest of a sixth gentleman to

"entertain," as the phrase is. "In my opinion, she is absolutely the

prettiest female in Mrs. Houston's rooms this night."

 

The young men, one and all, protested against this judgment, and with

perfect truth, for Miss Ring was too original to point out charms

that every one could see.

 

"They say it will not be a match between her and Mr. Egbert, after

every body has supposed it settled so long. What is your opinion, Mr.

Edson?"

 

This timely question prevented Mr. Edson's retreat, for he had

actually got so far in this important evolution, as to have gaped and

turned his back. Recalled, as it were by the sound of the bugle, Mr.

Edson was compelled to say something, a sore affliction to him

always.

 

"Oh! I'm quite of your way of thinking; they have certainly courted

too long to think of marrying."

 

"I detest long courtships; they must be perfect antidotes to love;

are they not, Mr. Moreland?"

 

A truant glance of Mr. Moreland's eye was rebuked by this appeal, and

instead of looking for a place of refuge, he now merely looked

sheepish. He, however, entirely agreed with the young lady, as the

surer way of getting out of the difficulty.

 

"Pray, Mr. Summerfield, how do you like the last Hajji--Miss Eve

Effingham? To my notion, she is prettyish, though by no means as well

as her cousin, Miss Van Cortlandt, who is really rather good-

looking."

 

As Eve and Grace were the two most truly lovely young women in the

rooms, this opinion, as well as the loud tone in which it was given,

startled Mademoiselle Viefville quite as much as the subjects that

the belle had selected for discussion. She would have moved, as

listening to a conversation that was not meant for their ears; but

John Effingham quietly assured her that Miss Ring seldom spoke in

company without intending as many persons as possible to hear her.

 

"Miss Effingham is very plainly dressed for an only daughter"

continued the young lady, "though that lace of her cousin's is real

point! I'll engage it cost every cent of ten dollars a yard! They are

both engaged to be married, I hear."

 

"_Ciel!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville.

 

"Oh! That is nothing," observed John Effingham coolly. "Wait a

moment, and you'll hear that they have been privately married these

six months, if, indeed, you hear no more."

 

"Of course this is but an idle tale?" said Sir George Templemore with

a concern, which, in despite of his good breeding, compelled him to

put a question that, under other circumstances, would scarcely have

been permissible.

 

"As true as the gospel. But listen to the _bell_, it is _ringing_ for

the good of the whole parish."

 

"The affair between Miss Effingham and Mr. Morpeth, who knew her

abroad, I understand is entirely broken off; some say the father

objected to Mr. Morpeth's want of fortune; others that the lady was

fickle, while some accuse the gentleman of the same vice. Don't you

think it shocking to jilt, in either sex, Mr. Mosely?"

 

The _retiring_ Mr. Mosely was drawn again within the circle, and was

obliged to confess that he thought it was very shocking, in either

sex, to jilt.

 

"If I were a man," continued the _belle_, "I would never think of a

young woman who had once jilted a lover. To my mind, it bespeaks a

bad heart, and a woman with a bad heart cannot make a very amiable

wife."

 

"What an exceedingly clever creature she is," whispered Mr. Mosely to

Mr. Moreland, and he now made up his mind to remain and be

'entertained' some time longer.

 

"I think poor Mr. Morpeth greatly to be pitied; for no man would be

so silly as to be attentive seriously to a lady without

encouragement. Encouragement is the _ne plus ultra_ of courtship; are

you not of my opinion, Mr. Walworth?"

 

Mr. Walworth was number five of the entertainees, and he did

understand Latin, of which the young lady, though fond of using

scraps, knew literally nothing. He smiled an assent, therefore, and

the _belle_ felicitated herself in having 'entertained' _him_

effectually; nor was she mistaken.

 

"Indeed, they say Miss Effingham had several affairs of the heart,

while in Europe, but it seems she was unfortunate in them all."

 

"_Mais, ceci est trop fort! Je ne peux plus ecouter._"

 

"My dear Mademoiselle, compose yourself. The crisis is not yet

arrived, by any means."

 

"I understand she still corresponds with a German Baron, and an

Italian Marquis, though both engagements are absolutely broken off.

Some people say she walks into company alone, unsupported by any

gentleman, by way of announcing a firm determination to remain single

for life."

 

A common exclamation from the young men proclaimed their

disapprobation; and that night three of them actually repeated the

thing, as a well established truth, and two of the three, failing of

something better to talk about, also announced that Eve was actually

engaged to be married.

 

"There is something excessively indelicate in a young lady's moving

about a room without having a gentleman's arm to lean on! I always

feel as if such a person was out of her place, and ought to be in the

kitchen."

 

"But, Miss Ring, what well-bred person does it?" sputtered Mr.

Moreland. "No one ever heard of such a thing in good society. 'Tis

quite shocking! Altogether unprecedented."

 

"It strikes me as being excessively coarse!"

 

"Oh! manifestly; quite rustic!" exclaimed Mr. Edson.

 

"What can possibly be more vulgar?" added Mr. Walworth.

 

"I never heard of such a thing among the right sort!" said Mr.

Mosely.

 

"A young lady who can be so brazen as to come into a room without a

gentleman's arm to lean on, is, in my judgment at least, but

indifferently educated, Hajji or no Hajji. Mr. Edson, have you ever

felt the tender passion? I know you have been desperately in love,

once, at least; do describe to me some of the symptoms, in order that

I may know when I am seriously attacked myself by the disease."

 

"_Mais, ceci est ridicule! L'enfant s'est sauvee du Charenton de New-

York._"

 

"From the nursery rather, Mademoiselle; you perceive she does not yet

know how to walk alone."

 

Mr.