HOW THEY RECEIVED HER.
On their return from the cottage the previous night, Alice and Emma
found that during their absence a telegram had come from Colonel
Schuyler, who said he should be home the following day, and asked that
the carriage might meet him at the station.
Miss Rossiter, of course, did not sleep a wink, and came down to
breakfast looking frightfully haggard and yellow, while Julia was pale
and subdued, and Emma showed traces of tears. It was almost as bad as
the day of the first Mrs. Schuyler’s funeral, and only Mrs. Tiffe and
Perry showed any signs of interest in the coming event.
But as the day wore on the girls brightened up, and Alice and the
governess made some bouquets for the dinner table, and put one in
Godfrey’s room, but none in those of the bride. Flowers were not for
her, a woman of forty with a squint and a limp and glasses! So they only
opened the windows of her rooms and let in the soft air of early
September, and Emma cried a little as she looked across the lawn to
where her mother slept, and wondered if she knew, or knowing, cared that
another was in her place. And then she went to her Aunt Christine and
told her it was time to dress, and asked if she was coming down. Miss
Rossiter had the headache and lay upon the couch, and said she must be
excused. She could not meet the woman that night; she must wait till
morning, when she hoped to be stronger and better able to bear it. So
Emma dropped the shades and brought the camphor to her aunt and smoothed
her hair a moment, and almost wished she, too, had the headache, and
then went to Alice and Julia, who were dressing, and who gave her a
meaning look as she entered.
“What, _black_ this warm day?” Emma exclaimed, as she saw Julia had
chosen a plain black grenadine, which, with the simple white band about
her neck, gave her the look of one in mourning.
“Yes, black,” Julia replied. “I do not feel like decking myself as for a
festival. This is no holiday to us, and Kitty has brought out your plain
grenadine for you.”
“And I am horrid in black,” Emma said, plaintively; but she usually
submitted to the stronger will of her sister, and so she donned the
black dress which made her look so like a nun that, braving Julia’s
displeasure, she ventured to tie a bit of lavender ribbon in her hair,
and was delighted at the effect.
“Look, isn’t it becoming?” she said. “Surely half-mourning is admissible
on the occasion of the new mother’s advent.”
Even Julia admitted that the effect was good, and as she was herself an
ardent lover of dress and had adopted her plain garb more from
resentment to the living than respect for the dead, she too tried the
effect of lavender, and fastened at her throat a pretty bow of ribbon,
which brightened her up wonderfully. Alice, who had nothing to resent,
and who wished to be as attractive as possible to Godfrey after his long
absence, indulged her taste to its fullest extent, and succeeded in
getting her hair higher than she had ever gotten it before. Godfrey was
of course accustomed to the very latest styles of Parisian
hair-dressing, and she did not wish to appear singular to him, she said,
when Emma exclaimed:
“Why, Alice, how funny you do look!”
Taken as a whole, she was frightfully and fashionably dressed, and very
much pleased with her _tout ensemble_, and certain she should completely
overawe and confound the plain woman of forty, who was momentarily
expected. The barouche had been sent for the colonel according to his
orders, and Godfrey’s buggy had been sent for him, as he might bring a
friend with him, his telegram said. But Robert Macpherson was not quite
ready to leave New York, and preferred coming to the country a few days
later. So Godfrey drove home alone, choosing a shorter road than that
taken by the barouche, and reaching the house some ten minutes earlier
than his father.
“Oh, girls, girls, there is Godfrey!” Emma cried, as she caught sight of
her brother driving up to the rear of the house; and rushing out to meet
him she threw her arms around him and burst into tears.
“Why, Emma, you dear little goose,” he said, as he bent his tall figure
down to kiss her, “what are you crying about? Sorry to get your scamp of
a brother back, eh?”
“No, no, Godfrey. I’m so glad to have you, only I dread that woman! Is
she so very horrid?”
“Horrid! Who horrid?” Godfrey asked, while every muscle of his face
twitched with suppressed mirth. “Do you mean the new mother? You must
not mind her looks; beauty is only skin deep, and she is like a singed
cat, better than she looks. You are sure to like her. Ah, Julia, my
darling, how like a sister of charity you look!” he continued, as he
released Emma, and kissing his other sister affectionally, he wound an
arm around each of the girls, and walked to the house, where Alice was
waiting for him, and scanning him curiously.
“He certainly has improved in looks, and there is quite a foreign air
about him, and his clothes are Paris made,” she thought, and her spirits
rose proportionately as she advanced leisurely to meet him.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Alice,” he exclaimed. “_Comment vous portez vous_,”
and kissing her loudly on both cheeks he continued: “_Que pensez-vous de
cela?_ Doesn’t it _smack_ of foreign travel?”
Alice had not quite expected this, but the French delighted her, though
she inly pronounced the accent horrid, and the hearty kisses pleased
her, even if they were wet and loud, and she blushed very becomingly,
and called him a “dear, naughty boy,” and kept hold of his hand until he
freed it from her, thinking to himself that she was unusually gushing,
and not a whit pretty either.
“By George, Allie,” he began, as his eyes rested on her hair. “No, I
don’t mean that. I’ve quit slang,” he added, with a thought of Gertie
Westbrooke; “but, Allie, what _is_ that on the top of your head? It
looks like the door-knob, and makes me think of that picture of William
Tell’s boy with the big apple on his head. Got a story above the style
this time. Should think you’d take cold in the back of your neck. They
don’t wear it so in _Par-ee_.”
And with his light badinage he demolished Alice’s hopes of admiration,
and struck a blow at the wonderful structure she had spent so much time
in rearing.
“Godfrey, Godfrey,” Julia cried in a tremor of distress and agitation as
she caught the sound of wheels, and felt that the catastrophe so dreaded
was coming at last. “Tell us true, is she so fearfully ugly?”
“She’s wonderful, and you may as well bring out your smelling salts and
camphor,” Godfrey replied; and then grasping Julia by the shoulder and
calling to his other sister: “Come, Em, and see the elephant,” he led
the way to the front door, where Edith stood looking eagerly about her,
not limping nor squinting, nor ugly, nor old, but a marvellously
beautiful woman, with ease and grace in every motion, and no sign of
embarrassment or awkwardness about her.
There was a flush on her cheek and a glitter in her eyes, but otherwise
she was calm and self-possessed when her husband took her hand and led
her up the steps to the group of astonished and bewildered girls, who
had looked this way and that, and then, under their breath, had
ejaculated, hurriedly:
“Why—what—who—oh—oh—Godfrey, _Godfrey_, you WRETCH!”
And that last word embodied Julia’s feelings, as, with one glance at her
brother, who stood choking with laughter, she went to meet the stranger.
“Julia, my eldest daughter; Mrs. Schuyler, your new mother, and I hope
you will love each other,” the colonel said.
And then Julia felt her hand taken in one as soft, and small, and
perfectly formed as her own, and a sweet voice said, as if to relieve
her from any embarrassment respecting the mother:
“We will be sisters, I am sure. Kiss me, Julia.”
This was not what the young lady had expected. No thought of kissing had
entered her mind. Indeed, she meant to freeze the adventuress by her
formality and dignity, and lo, the woman was dictating terms to her,
saying they would be sisters and asking for a kiss! But it was not hard
to kiss the smooth, round cheek offered to her, and, when the sweet
voice said again, “You will love me, Julia, I am sure, and let me love
you,” the haughty girl answered involuntarily, “Yes, I will,” and then,
with a tear actually wetting her eyelashes, stood back to give place to
Emma, who, more impulsive than herself, went headlong into the arms
which Edith held toward her, and cried like a little child.
Miss Creighton came next, bowing almost to the ground and offering the
tips of her fingers to the lady, who received her just as coldly, though
with far more ease and graceful breeding perceptible in her manner.
They were in the hall by this time, and Mrs. Tiffe stood waiting to
greet her new mistress, her black silk rustling at every step and her
yellow lace showing age and cost, as with her gold-bowed glasses in her
hand and her bunch of keys jingling suggestively on the chain at her
side, she paid her respects to madame, and thought as she did so how she
would like to thrash the scapegrace, Godfrey, who had so misled them. He
was choking with laughter just outside the door, where his sisters were
going through with a pantomime of threatening gestures for the trick
played upon them.
“Godfrey Schuyler, how could you?” Julia began in a whisper, while
Godfrey suddenly remembering that he had not seen his Aunt Christine,
stepped back into the hall and asked where she was.
On being told she had a headache, he said:
“I must go up and see her,” and with a sign for Julia and Alice to
follow, he ran up the stairs in the direction of Miss Rossiter’s room.
But Emma was there before them. As soon as the first moment of amazement
was over she had gone swiftly to her aunt’s chamber, and rushing in
unannounced, had exclaimed:
“Oh, Aunt Christine, she is the most beautiful woman you ever looked
upon. It was all a fib he wrote us. She is splendid and hasn’t a bit of
a limp nor anything, and looks about twenty. Do get up, auntie, and go
to dinner.”
Miss Rossiter was amazed, and sitting up on the side of her bed, was
trying to knot her long black hair under her net, while she put some
questions to Emma, when the door burst open a second time, and Godfrey
himself came in full of life, and health, and vigor, and by his very
presence doing more to dissipate the lady’s headache than all the drugs
in her closet.
“Hallo, Aunt Christine,” he said; “done up in camphor and herbs, as
usual? Let’s try what a little exercise will do for you.”
And taking her in his arms he waltzed gayly about the room, the girls
laughing and the lady protesting and struggling to get free, until she
had danced her hair down and a bright color into her face.
“There, auntie, you are real handsome now,” Godfrey said, as he released
her with a hearty kiss, and leading her to the couch, seated himself
beside her, with his arm around her waist. “Now, girls, pitch in; I’m
ready for you,” he said; as they began to accuse him of deceit in its
most aggravating form, asking how he could do it.
“Do what?” he asked. “What are you making such a fuss about?”
“I should think you’d ask,” Julia replied. “Telling us she was forty and
had a glass eye, and a squawk in her voice, and everything else that is
bad.”
“I never told you any such thing,” Godfrey answered, with great gravity;
and the three girls exclaimed, in chorus:
“Oh, Godfrey Schuyler! You did, you did. We have the letter. You wrote,
‘Think of father’s marrying a woman of forty with a glass eye, and——’”
“Oh, yes, well, of course, that’s a different thing,” Godfrey replied.
“I did tell you to _think of it_, I know, and you evidently have thought
of it, and had a good time at it, but I never said it was so. I told you
‘she would take your breath away when you saw her,’ and she did. You all
three opened your eyes and mouths and stared at her as if you never saw
a handsome woman before. And she is handsome, isn’t she? Now, confess
it, girls; and say she is the loveliest creature you ever saw——”
“Oh, Godfrey, I do believe you are half in love with her yourself,”
Alice said, a little reproachfully, and the young man replied:
“To be sure I am; and if she had been younger there’s no telling what I
might have done, but when I subtracted eighteen from twenty-eight, I
said to myself, ‘that will never do; a man may not marry his
grandmother;’ and then, Alice, I knew there was a little pug nose over
the sea, which would get very red and ugly looking if I did that,” he
added, mischievously, as he saw the disturbed look on Alice’s face, and
knew why it was there.
“Is she twenty-eight? She does not look it,” Emma said, while Julia and
Alice declared she did; and then as women, especially envious ones, will
do, they picked her to pieces, from her head to her feet, and putting
her together again, decided that though they had seen much finer faces
and prettier, too, her _tout ensemble_ was very good, and they were so
much relieved, as they had expected something horrid, of which even the
villagers would make fun.
“Wait till you see her in her dinner dress,” Godfrey said. “I tell you
her gowns are elegant, Paris made, too. I’ve seen them. I know. I’ve
travelled.” (This with a wink at Alice.) “And that reminds me, Jule and
Em, why are you rigged out in black, this warm, pleasant day? You look
as if you were in mourning. I believe you did it on purpose too, but I
tell you she is stunning in her dinner costumes, and if you don’t wish
to be thrown quite in the shade, I’d take off those black things, and
put on something fluffy and light and airy and becoming; and you,
auntie, certainly do not mean to stay mewed up here on toast and
oatmeal, while we are at dinner. Take a big drink from every bottle in
the closet, and if that don’t do, try some of your lightning. I’ll fix
the battery; and then dress yourself and go down, and look handsome and
bright. Why, I think you’ve grown pretty and young while I was gone, and
I want that beauty to see that all the good looks are not on her side.
The Schuylers have some of it. Come, girls, hurry up.”
They could not withstand Godfrey, especially when he mingled a little
seasonable flattery with his persuasions, and both Julia and Emma went
to their rooms to change their dress, while Miss Rossiter expressed her
willingness to go down if she could be ready in time.
“I’ll help you. I can do it first-rate,” Godfrey said, mischievously,
but Miss Rossiter declined his services, and ringing for Kitty, sent him
from the room, telling him he might as well attend to his own toilet.
“That’s a fact,” he said. “But my dressing won’t take long. Come, Alice,
let’s go out on the balcony awhile;” and leading Miss Creighton to the
glass door at the end of the hall, he brought her a chair and seated her
in it. “You won’t have to dress, and can talk with me. You’ve got
yourself up stunningly, especially that ball on the top of your head.
Couldn’t have put that a peg higher if you tried, could you? I say,
Alice, why do you want to make yourself such a fright? Do you think it
is the style? It isn’t. I saw a few shop-girls and bar-maids with their
heads tricked out like yours, but not one lady. I believe you would wear
a boot-jack if you thought it was the fashion in Paris!”
“Oh, Godfrey, don’t, please, and you just come home, too,” Alice said,
with a tremor in her voice and tears in her eyes.
It hurt her that he should find fault with her personal appearance
within an hour of his return after so long an absence, especially as she
had taken so much pains to dress for him. Godfrey saw she was hurt, and
said to her, coaxingly, as he put his arm around her:
“Never mind, Alice. You are real stylish anyway, and I’m so glad to see
you again. I am, upon my word, and you used to write to me such nice,
sisterly letters. Do you find me improved?”
“Yes, Godfrey, ever so much. I knew you would be. Travel always does
that,” Alice said, her spirits a good deal lightened by his few words of
commendation. “And, Godfrey,” she continued, “I guess I’ll go and fix my
hair now. There will be time.”
She choked a little, for “fixing her hair” was a vast amount of trouble,
but if Godfrey was suited, she did not care.
“Nonsense,” he said, tightening the grasp of his arm about her waist,
“your hair is well enough for once. Stay with me and let’s talk. Only
think how long it is since you had a chance to lecture me except by
letter, which does not go for much, and I’m real glad to see you, Allie.
I am, by Jo——. No, I mean I am, Allie; I am trying to quit my slang,
though it is like pulling teeth sometimes.”
“Yes, Godfrey,” and folding her small, fat hands on her lap, Alice
looked happy, and content, and satisfied. “Yes, Godfrey, I knew that
trip abroad would effect great things for you.”
“Oh, bother, Allie, it isn’t that. I heard just as much slang, and saw
just as many clowns, and snobs, and fools abroad as I ever saw here; and
more too. Travel didn’t improve my mind or manners; it was a little
girl. Oh! don’t look so disturbed,” he added, as Alice bridled at the
mention of a girl. “You needn’t be jealous at all. She isn’t bigger than
my thumb, and is only twelve years old. She was on the ship with us and
awful sick, and so was I. I tell you what, I have been down to the very
depths and felt deep calling unto deep in a way I never wish to hear it
call again. Ugh! the very thought of that cold creep which begins at the
toes and ends in the spittoon makes me dizzy; and with a swaying motion
Godfrey rocked from side to side until his head rested on Alice’s
shoulder.
But she moved away from him with dignified propriety, saying:
“Yes, I know, I have been sea-sick too; it is dreadful; but what of the
little girl, and who was she?”
“Oh, yes, I was telling you about her. She had been sick, and was
sitting on deck, all wrapped up in shawls and blankets, and looking so
like some pure white pond lily, that I kissed her right on the mouth!”
“Godfrey!” Alice exclaimed, indignantly; while he rejoined:
“You are not half as angry as she was. I never saw anything like the
gleam in her blue eyes. Had I really insulted her she could not have
taken it worse than she did, or reproached me more sharply. I never
heard anything like the way she talked to me. Why, I felt as ashamed as
a dog, and when she attacked my slang, as she called my free style of
talk, I promised her I would break myself of it and try to come up to
her idea of a gentleman.”
“_Her_ idea,” Alice said. “Who was she, pray, that she should presume to
lecture you?”
“I tell you, there’s no need to be jealous,” Godfrey replied. “Not of
her, at least. She is only a child,—not in ‘our set,’—no pretension,—no
family,—though I believe she does boast a grandmother and forty pounds a
year.”
“Oh, I know,—Gertie Rogers, that yellow-haired girl down at the
cottage!” Alice exclaimed, with a tone of irritation in her voice.
“And so you have seen Gertie. Isn’t she a beauty?” Godfrey said.
Before Alice could reply there was the rustle of a dress and the sound
of voices and footsteps on the stairs. The colonel and Edith were coming
down, and they went into the drawing-room, where Godfrey and Alice
joined them, the latter scanning the bride curiously, and mentally
acknowledging her to be the most elegant woman she had ever seen, both
in face, and manner, and dress. How exquisitely beautiful Edith was in
the grayish silk, with the pink tinge, which fitted her fine form as
only a Paris-made garment can fit. The silk was of the richest texture,
while the lace upon it was in itself a fortune, and the bertha was the
most exquisite thing of the kind Alice had ever seen.
“How can she be so easy and self-possessed, and she only a hired
companion?” Alice thought, as she saw how wholly unembarrassed Edith
was, even when Mrs. Rossiter swept into the room in her long trailing
dress of black tissue, with her scarlet scarf around her, and a few
geranium leaves in her hair.
Miss Rossiter usually wore black when in full dinner dress. She knew it
became her better than any other color, especially when relieved with
scarlet or white, and she was handsome now as she came in with a
half-eager, half-wondering look upon her face.
“Ah, Christine, I am glad to see you and find you looking so well,” Col.
Schuyler said, as he went hastily forward to meet her. “Let me present
you to my wife. Mrs. Schuyler, this is Miss Rossiter, my sister,—or
rather,—yes,—the sister of my wife; that is, I mean,—the late lamented
Emily,—yes.”
“That’s what I call a very remarkable introduction,” Godfrey whispered
to Alice, who turned away to hide her laughter, while the faintest
resemblance of a smile lurked in Edith’s eyes and about the corners of
her mouth as she extended her hand to the sister of the lamented Emily!
Otherwise she was perfectly collected, and did not seem to notice that
only the tips of two fingers were given her, and that though the thin
lips of Miss Rossiter moved, the words they uttered were wholly
inaudible. Miss Rossiter had seen at a glance that the lady’s beauty was
not exaggerated, but she could not feel altogether cordial toward one
whom she considered an intruder, and she purposely threw as much
coldness and haughtiness as possible into her manner, hoping thus to
impress the stranger with a sense of the vast difference there was
between the Rossiters and the Lyles. But Edith did not seem in the least
affected by the lady’s hauteur, and inquiring kindly if her head was
better, suggested that she sit down, as she must feel rather weak, and
set the example by sitting down herself.
“If she is not assuming the _rôle_ of mistress and patronizing me so
soon,” was Miss Rossiter’s mental comment, and resolving not to be
patronized she remained standing as straight as an arrow and almost as
stiff, talking to her brother-in-law until the bell rang for dinner, and
Julia and Emma came in, dressed in white and looking infinitely better
than when Godfrey criticised them so severely.
The dining-room at Schuyler Hill was one of the pleasantest rooms in the
house, and it looked beautifully now with its glass and silver and
flowers, and Edith felt a pardonable glow of pride and satisfaction in
the thought that this pleasant home, with all its luxury, was hers, the
gift of the man who led her so proudly to her seat at the head of his
table, and pressing her hand as he relinquished it and went back to his
post of honor as master of the house. The colonel, who was inclined to
be a little stiff in his manners among strangers, appeared well at home
and especially well at his own table, and Edith, as she looked at him
presiding with so much dignity and ease, thought what a handsome
gentleman he was, and felt herself blessed in the possession of him.