TONING DOWN.—BELL’S DIARY CONTINUED.
Such fun as it was to see mother and Juno training Katy, showing her how
to enter the parlor, how to arrange her dress, how to carry her hands
and feet, and how to sit in a chair—Juno going through with the
performance first, and then requiring Katy to imitate her. Had I been
Katy I should have rebelled, but she is far too sweet-tempered and
anxious to please, while I suspect that fear of my lord Wilford had
something to do with it, for when the drill was over, she asked so
earnestly if we thought he would be ashamed of her, and there were tears
in her great blue eyes as she said it. Hang Wilford! Hang the whole of
them; I am not sure I shall not yet espouse her cause myself, or else
tell father, who will do it so much better.
_Dec. —th._—Another drill, with Juno commanding officer, while the poor
little _private_ seemed completely worried out. This time there were
open doors, but so absorbed were mother and Juno as not to hear the
bell, and just as Juno was saying, “Now imagine me Mrs. Gen. Reynolds,
to whom you are being presented,” while Katy was bowing almost to the
floor, who should appear but Mark Ray, stumbling square upon that
ludicrous rehearsal, and, of course, bringing it to an end. No
explanation was made, nor was any needed, for Mark’s face showed that he
understood it, and it was as much as he could do to keep from roaring
with merriment; I am sure he pitied Katy, for his manner towards her was
very affectionate and kind, and when she left the room he complimented
her highly, repeating many things he had heard in her praise from those
who had seen her both in the street and here at home. Juno’s face was
like a thunder-cloud, for she is as much in love with Mark Ray as she
was once with Dr. Grant, and is even jealous of his praise of Katy. Glad
am I that I never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for whom
I cared a pin. There’s Bob Reynolds up at West Point. I suppose I do
think his epaulettes very becoming to him, but his hair is too light,
and he cannot raise whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall,
while I know he looks with contempt upon females who write, even though
their writings never see the light of day; thinks them strong-minded,
self-willed, and all that. He is expected to be present at the party,
but I shall not go. I prefer to stay at home and finish that article
entitled, “Women of the Present Century,” suggested to my mind by my
sister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing of a pretty woman,
with more heart than brains, contrasting her with such an one as Juno,
her opposite.
_January 10._—The last time I wrote in my journal was just before the
party, which is over now, the long talked of affair at which Katy was
the reigning belle. I don’t know _how_ it happened, but happen it did,
and Juno’s glory faded before that of her rival, whose ringing laugh
frequently penetrated to every room, and made more than one look up in
some surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys said, “It’s that charming little
Mrs. Cameron, the prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is so
refreshing and genuine,” the point was settled, and Katy was free to
laugh as loudly as she pleased.
She did look beautifully, in lace and pearls, with her short hair
curling in her neck. She would not allow us to put so much as a bud in
her hair, showing, in this respect, a willfulness we never expected; but
as she was perfectly irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and
when she was dressed, sent her in to father, who had asked to see her.
And now comes the strangest thing in the world.
“You are very beautiful, little daughter,” father said, “I almost wish I
was going with you to see the sensation you are sure to create.”
Then straight into his lap climbed Katy, _father’s_ lap, where none of
us ever sat, I am sure, and began to coax him to go, telling him she
should appear better if he were there, and that she should need him when
Wilford left her, as of course he must a part of the time. And father
actually dressed himself and went. But Katy did not need him after the
people began to understand that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was the rage. Even
Sybil Grey in her palmiest days never received such homage as was paid
to the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was her perfect
enjoyment of everything, and her perfect faith in what people said to
her. Juno was nothing and I worse than nothing, for I _did_ go after
all, wearing a plain black silk, with high neck and long sleeves,
looking, as Juno said, like a Sister of Charity.
Lieut. Bob was there, his light hair lighter than ever, and his chin as
smooth as my hand. He likes to dance and I do not, but somehow he
persisted in staying where I was, notwithstanding that I said my
sharpest things in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last to dance
with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she lacks in
knowledge. Once upon the floor she did not lack for partners, but I
verily believe danced every set, growing prettier and fairer as she
danced, for hers is a complexion which does not get red and blowsy with
exercise.
Mark Ray was there too, and I saw him smile comically when Katy met the
people with that bow she was making at the time he came so suddenly upon
us. Mark is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank in a
measure for Katy’s successful début. He was the first to take her from
Wilford, walking with her up and down the hall by way of reassuring her,
and once as they passed me I heard her say,
“I feel so timid here—so much afraid of doing something wrong—something
countrified.”
“Never mind,” he answered. “Act yourself just as you would were you at
home in Silverton, where you are known. That is far better than
affecting a manner not natural to you.”
After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness which at first was
perceptible passed off, and she was Katy Lennox, queening it over all
the city belles, drawing after her a host of gentlemen, and between the
sets holding a miniature court at one end of the room, where the more
desirable of the guests crowded around, flattering her until her little
head ought to have been turned if it was not. To do her justice she bore
her honors well, and when we were in the carriage and father
complimented her upon her success, she only said,
“If I pleased you all I am glad.”
So many calls as we had the next day, and so many invitations as there
are now on our table for Mrs. Wilford Cameron, while our opera box
between the scenes is packed with beaux, until one would suppose Wilford
might be jealous; but Katy takes it so quietly and modestly, seeming
only gratified for his sake, that I really believe he enjoys it more
than she does. At all events he persists in her going even when she
would rather stay at home, so if she is spoiled the fault will rest with
him.
_February —th._—Poor Katy! Dissipation is beginning to wear upon her,
for she is not accustomed to our late hours, and sometimes falls asleep
while Esther is dressing her. But go she must, for Wilford wills it so,
and she is but an automaton to do his bidding.
Why can’t mother let her alone, when everybody seems so satisfied with
her? Somehow she does not believe that people are as delighted as they
pretend, and so she keeps training and tormenting her until I do not
wonder that Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she shall unconsciously
be guilty of an impropriety. I pitied her last night when, after she was
ready for the opera, she came into my room where I was indulging in the
luxury of a loose dressing-gown, with my feet on the sofa. At first I
think she liked Juno best, but latterly she has taken to me, and now
sitting down before the fire into which her blue eyes looked with a
steady stare, she said,
“I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have heard this opera
before, and it will be so tiresome. I get so sleepy while they are
singing, for I never care to watch the acting. I did at first when it
was new, but now it seems insipid to see them make believe, while the
theatre is worse yet,” and she gave a weary yawn.
In less than three months she had exhausted fashionable life, and I
looked at her in astonishment, asking what would please her if the opera
did not. What would she like?
Turning her eyes full upon me, she exclaimed,
“I do like it some, I suppose, only I get so tired. I like to ride, I
like to skate, I like to shop, and all that, but oh, you don’t know how
I want to go home to mother and Helen. I have not seen them for so long;
but I am going in the spring—going in May. How many days are there in
March and April? Sixty-one,” she continued; “then I may safely say that
in eighty days I shall see mother, and all the dear old places. It is
not a grand home like this. You, Bell, might laugh at it; Juno would, I
am sure, but you do not know how dear it is to me, or how I long for a
sight of the huckleberry hills and the rocks where Helen and I used to
play.”
Just then Will called to say the carriage was waiting, and Katy was
driven away, while I sat thinking of her, and the devoted love with
which she clings to her home and friends, wondering if it were the
kindest thing which could have been done, transplanting her to our
atmosphere, so different from her own.
_March 1st._—As it was in the winter, so it is now; Mrs. Wilford Cameron
is the rage—the bright star of society, which quotes and pets and
flatters, and even laughs at her by turns; and Wilford, though still
watchful, lest she should do something _outré_, is very proud of her,
insisting upon her accepting invitations, sometimes two for one evening,
until the child is absolutely worn out, and said to me once when I told
her how well she was looking and how pretty her dress was, “Yes, pretty
enough, but I am so tired. If I could lie down on mother’s bed, in a
shilling calico, just as I used to do!”
Mother’s bed seems at present to be the height of her ambition—the thing
she most desires; and as Juno fancies it must be the _feathers_ she is
sighing for, she wickedly suggests that Wilford either buy a feather bed
for his wife, or else send to Aunty Betsy for the one which was to be
Katy’s setting out! They go to housekeeping in May, and on Madison
Square, too. I think Wilford would quite as soon remain with us, for he
does not fancy change; but Katy wants a home of her own, and I never saw
anything more absolutely beautiful than her face when father said to
Wilford that No.—— Madison Square was for sale, advising him to secure
it. But when mother intimated that there was no necessity for the two
families to separate at present—that Katy was too young to have the
charge of a house—there came into her eyes a look of such distress that
it went straight to father’s heart, and calling her to him, he said,
“Tell me, sunbeam, what is your choice—to stay with us, or have a home
of your own?”
Katy was very white, and her voice trembled as she replied,
“You have been kind to me here, and it is very pleasant; but I guess—I
think—I’m sure—I should like the housekeeping best. I am not so young
either. Nineteen in July, and when I go home next month I can learn so
much of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah.”
Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking into the fire with an
expression anything but favorable to that visit home, fixed now for
April instead of May. But Katy has no discernment, and believes she is
actually going to learn how to make apple dumplings and pumpkin pies. In
spite of mother the house is bought, and now she is gone all day
deciding how it shall be furnished, always leaving Katy out of the
question, as if she were a cipher, and only consulting Wilford’s choice.
They will be happier alone, I know. Mrs. Gen. Reynolds says that it is
the way for young people to live; that her son’s wife shall never come
home to her, for of course their habits could not be alike; and then she
looked queerly at me, as if she knew I was thinking of Lieutenant Bob
and who his wife might be.
Sybil Grandon is coming in April or May, and Mrs. Reynolds wonders
_will_ she flirt as she used to do. Just as if Bob would care for a
widow! There is more danger from Will, who thinks Mrs. Grandon a perfect
paragon, and who is very anxious that Katy may appear well before her,
saying nothing and doing nothing which shall in any way approximate to
Silverton and the _shoes_ which Katy told Esther she used to bind when a
girl. Will need not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never half as
pretty as Katy, or half as much admired. Neither need Mrs. Gen. Reynolds
fret about Bob, as if he would care for her. Sybil Grandon indeed!